Day 158, 159, 160 and 161: Paris

If you had to pick a single cuisine for each meal of the day what would you choose. For example you would have to eat Moroccan food for dinner everyday, American for lunch and aztecan for breakfast. But let’s imagine in this scenario all the food is magically delivered to you so We don’t have to consider the accessibility or practically of different cuisines.

So this is what I’m currently thinking.
Breakfast: Australian cafe cuisine
Morning snacks: Chinese
Lunch: Italian
Afternoon snacks: Malaysian
Dinner: Thai
Dessert: French

Some things I’m still struggling over – I’m no so sure about my choice my for breakfast or afternoon snacks. The one thing I’m really sure of is dessert. As if you’d pick anything else. Now that I’m in France I’ve been living it up. Breakfast dessert, lunch dessert, dessert snacks, dinner dessert, actual dessert – when you’re keen enough it pops up everywhere.

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These have been some of my favourites:
Chocolate tart, day one:
Rich, dense chocolate cream in a crumbly biscuit case topped with caramel flakes that snap at the bite

Chocolate croissant, day three:
I bought this at the bakery which makes baguettes for the president. Simply the best chocolate croissant I’ve ever had.

Strawberry tart, day three:
From the pres-bakers. Glazed strawberries on vanilla custard in a solid and sweetened short crust base.

Pierre Herme macaroons, day three:
1. Passionfruit and chocolate
2. Carrot and orange
Exactly like what their named after with a perfect balance between the two flavours. Perfect texture and rich taste. Fucking excellent.

Pierre Herme chocolates, day three:
1. Dark chocolate with chocolate mousse.
2. Milk chocolate with Hazelnut praline centre
I don’t think I really have to say anything here.

I love mega cities.

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I love them for the same reason I like Tree of Life – they’re everything. They’re all of life. But unlike Tree of Life things actually happen in big cities.

Last night Honey Vader and I went for a bike ride down the Seine. Along the bank near the Bastille end were four amphitheater shaped arenas with dance parties in them. Nothing organised – just a bunch of strangers jiggling and wiggling to some impro music. Each stage had a different theme.
1. Latino rap. There were a bunch of dudes drumming and hitting boxes and things while one ultra charismatic muscly dude free style rapped. Some other guys tried to make something happen but they failed because next to king-charisma they may as well have been gangrenous rat-people.
2. French folk music from a stereo with people dancing formally.
3. One of those songs people dance professionally to – samba, rumba, salsa or something. I’ve always found the faces of people who do these dances rather frightening and this was no different. Everyone was grooving very sensually (dorkiest sentence ever) but no one looked even slightly capable of enjoying it. All the faces were stern or flabbed like a fattening tv kid. It looked like a group of aliens had academically watched people dance and this was their first field trip to try out what they’d learnt.
4. One guy with a piano harmonica breathlessly and operatically smashing out folk songs from Britany. About ten others dancing in sync.

Another time I was going for a long walk and I stumbled upon a large square. It was very busy with all kinds of things – food stalls, wheelchair basketball, beach volleyball, art and a pop up shop which gave out free soda water called ‘water of Paris’. This was all on a rainy, cold Tuesday afternoon.

Mega cities. Love em.

I’ve done shite all cooking on this trip because I’ve been too damn excited to eat all the things I’d never eaten before. I love cooking. I especially love cooking off the cuff with whatever is around. I’m not particularly good at it, just enthusiastic. On my first night in Paris I cooked dinner. I thought it was going to be only Honey Vader and I eating so I did what I usually do. Bit of this, bit of that, fucking yep that’ll do. After I’d started getting in to it I found out two of Honey Vader’s friends were joining us. I looked down at what I was cooking. Some plums frying in a pan with fennel and olive oil, a bowl of torn chèvre, some tomato sauce, a mug of curry spices and a bowl of raw eggs. What am I doing?

Orienttouille:

6 eggs
A large bottle of tomato passata
2/3 plums sliced in chunks
80g of chèvre
2 medium sized cinnamon sticks
Teaspoon of coriander seeds
Teaspoon of fennel seeds
Teaspoon of mustard seeds
Pinch of dried ginger
Teaspoon turmeric powder
Teaspoon of cumin powder
Teaspoon of ginger powder
3 white onions chopped
6 cloves of garlic diced

Heat olive oil in a small pan over medium heat. Throw in plums and fennel seeds. Just before the plums start loosing their shape remove them from the heat, discard the oil and seeds and set aside.

Heat generous splash of olive oil in large pan over high heat. Throw in onions, coriander and mustard seeds, dried ginger and turmeric powder. If the spices burn add a little olive oil, water or vegetable stock. Once the onions are translucent throw in the garlic, cumin powder and ginger powder. Fry for 30 seconds and then add the cinnamon sticks and passata. Cook over low heat with lid on. After ten minutes stir in the plums and add the eggs in one by one. Be careful not to disturb the shape of the eggs. Once the eggs are all in, place the lid back on and cook until the egg whites are almost completely visible. Add the chunks of chèvre and cook until the cheese has melted. Then remove from the heat and serve on cous cous, rice or whatever.

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