Green.

Tags

Birds, East Tennessee, Greenbelt Lake, Maryville, Smoky Mountains, Spring, Wildflowers

I still remember my first assignment as a 10th grade art student. My teacher herded us outside and set us down on the concrete patio adjacent to our classroom, and instructed us to draw. I looked around, and picked a subject: a ratty bush directly in front of me. Leaning up against the side of the building, pencils in hand, I carefully outlined the curves of the branches, and filled in the shape with bright green leaves. My teacher peered over my shoulder. “It’s good,” she said. “But do you notice anything else about the color of the leaves?”

I looked again. The leaves were still green. I shrugged my shoulders.

She instructed me to look closely. Is green really all I see? Is any color really what it seems?

 

The easiest way to take yourself from being a poor artist to passable is to look a little closer, and to notice that green is really not so green. Trees are not green, grass is not green.  In each of these, there are a million other colors in that will never be captured by a single colored pencil. The blue of the sky is reflected in shadows, the play of light gives golden highlights to each sunlit leaf. In this way all nature performs together to create one perfect, harmonious picture.

Once you start seeing the world in full color, You’ll never again return to the monotone green grass you once knew. 

You’ll begin to notice all the flowers hidden underneath the tall grass, with their cheerful faces turned up bravely to the sky. 

And if you’re lucky you’ll meet this little blue swallow, whose looks out on the world with fierce curiosity.You’ll see beyond the greenish waters near the bank–made so by the thick moss growing on the rocks below–and greet the turtle before he dives back into the blue.On the opposite bank, duck families are paddling out for their afternoon exercise. The tiny ones, in suits of mottled yellow and brown, hop and trip over the flower stalks as they make their way toward the water’s edge. And nearby, this red-faced friend gives his wings a defiant stretch after losing an embarrassing battle over pond territory to a pair of geese. All these things you would miss if you chose to only see the world in green.

A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten on the influx of better thoughts. We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities, which we call doing our duty. We loiter in winter while it is already spring. In a pleasant spring morning all men’s sins are forgiven. Such a day is a truce to vice. While such a sun holds out to burn, the vilest sinner may return.

Henry David Thoreau, Walden, Spring

 

 

Post Prompted by The American Resident as part of her weekly “Where I Live” Linkup.

Red Barns and Buttercups

Tags

barns, Buttercups, Country Roads, East Tennessee, Smoky Mountains, Springtime

Birds flyin’ high, you know how I feel
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel
Breeze driftin’ on by, you know how I feel
It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me.
And I’m feelin’ good.Fish in the sea, you know how I feel
River runnin’ free, you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel
It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me,
And I’m feelin’ goodStars when you shine, you know how I feel
Scent of the pine, you know how I feel
Yeah, freedom is mine, and I know how I feel..
It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for meDragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don’t you know?
Butterflies all havin’ fun, you know what I mean.
Sleep in peace when day is done: that’s what I mean.

And this old world is a new world and a bold world for me.

5 Years and Counting…

Tags

birding, container gardening, dairy, gardening, homemade yogurt, quilt blocks, whey

I got an interesting email from WordPress today, wishing me a happy anniversary. Anniversary of what, you ask?? I asked that too. But apparently, today marks 5 years of me being a blogger. I gasped audibly when I read that….has it been that long, really?? It’s kind of remarkable, isn’t it? 5 years is a lot of time to spend writing on the internet, but for the most part I consider it time well spent.

Obviously this isn’t my first blog (although  here we’re creeping up on our 2 year birthday here early next month!), but it was meant to be the blog that tied all the other blogs together—the craft blog, the travel blog, the music blog….I wanted it to be a place to write about anything. To an extent, I do, but there’s still a lot of posts I want to write but choose not to publish because I’m trying not to be political. I’d rather write about things that we can all agree with—there’s a lot of world to see and a lot of creative and delightful things to discover.

So, in appreciation of this lets-talk-about-almost-everything approach to blogging, here’s a recap of what widely varied activities have been going on here lately

First of all, I am very excited by how my little plantlings have been growing along. Peas have shot up even more since that photo was taken, and I think I might get some strawberries soon. Fingers crossed! I finally took the time to thin them out, and instead of just throwing the excess greens over the balcony, I gathered them up and put them in a salad. it’s mostly pea tendrils and beet greens, which are delicious on their own. I’d be pretty satisfied even if i don’t get a single fruit. Simply tossed with oil and vinegar and a bit of lemon zest.

We’ve gotten a bit of rain this weekend…rain that might better be described as a hurricane dumping on us. The little creek behind my apartment has completely flooded, any more and I’m afraid we’d be evacuated or something.

I had grand plans to go to church this morning, but when I woke up and saw that outside my window, I decided my best decision would be to stay off the roads.There was a festival in downtown Knoxville this weekend too, and a couple other things I wanted to see, but the rain has been so nasty it’s hard to muster up the will to leave the house.

Don’t feel too sorry for me though. I used that time at home wisely and embarked on an exploration of dairy products. It’s kind of embarrassing, but how many people can actually tell the difference between, say, Sour Cream and Creme Fraiche? Cottage cheese and Ricotta? Sure, they come in different tubs in the grocery store, but they all start with the same basic product. How are they made?? And then there are totally different products we rarely see…Clabber used to be commonplace, but most people today have no idea what it is. Or how about Skyr, a personal favorite of mine? Lassi?? It’s like I always say, it’s amazing how much common knowledge we’ve lost in the last century, and how much more there is out in the world we’ve yet to learn about. So, in the name of discovery, I’ve been experimenting. That’s my first batch of yogurt (and also an example of why you shouldn’t take pictures in dark rooms, and why you should always give your yogurt a whisk before photographing so it doesn’t look so lumpy…it isn’t!). It turned out pretty delicious, and I’m excited to never buy yogurt again–future batches can be made by simply introducing cultures to a quart of milk by adding a couple dollops of yogurt from the last batch. There’s some heating and cooling involved too, but it’s not rocket science. You’ve got to keep it consistently warm for hours while it does its thing, which is the hard part, and why most people buy yogurt makers (whose only purpose, as far as I can tell, is to monitor the temperature).  But to get around this, I had a brainstorm. When I first moved in here, Grandma Ida (hi grandma!) sent me some soup, which kept cold for hours in a styrofoam box. The box has been wasting space in the closet since then, but now it’s my offical yogurt inoculation box, and she is probably never getting it back. I poured hot water in the bottom, set in my little container of milk+yogurt starter, and voila, worked like a charm.

The best thing about yogurt is that along with the tangy and creamy substance we all know, when you make it yourself you are gifted with a tremendous byproduct–whey. You also get this from cheese, and it’s basically liquid protein. People could probably save themselves a ton of money on powdered shakes if they just made their own yogurt. The first time I encountered whey was last year during my extremely brief foray into mozzarella making (I intend to try again soon), and i didn’t really know what it was, so I threw it out. This time though, I was smart enough to strain it and save it. Let’s just say I have plans.

I made some ice-cream too, but I think I’m going to experiment a little more before I officially post about that. It had a perfect texture, but it tasted kind of like sweetened condensed milk. Good for a couple bites, then just a bit sickening.

I’ve started another project, too…still need to trim up those squares, but it’s fun to see them start to come together. Vote: which do you like best, Flying Geese or Pinwheels??To be honest, I’m probably going to use both of them. Why not

Staying at home a couple days also proved useful in one other respect: I finally got to see what nuisance is visiting my bird feeder.

I knew someone was coming because it was flinging seeds all over the porch. I’m still not sure what that’s about. I think it must be some sort of nasty-bird game. Anyway, I was sitting on the couch one afternoon and all of a sudden there was a nasty racket outside. So i looked, and here was this guy sitting on top of the feeder and screaming his lungs out. I scared him off, he came back and screamed some more. We’ve been doing this for 3 days straight. He doesn’t eat the seeds, just throws them around, yells at me, and scares off the cute birds. I’m about to take down the feeder to shut him up but I really wanted some nice little birds to stop in So, seriously, if anyone knows how to win this battle, let me know!!

Anyway, that’s about all I’ve got to write about. Not much going on at work, but I think I’m progressing and they’re giving me a few more interesting things to do. We did a wedding last week where the plan was to pass appetizers at the wedding site just after the ceremony while the photos were being done, before the guests made their way up to the barn for the reception. They actually sent me down alone to do it, which i thought was quite brave of them. It wasn’t anything fancy, just simple cooking or assembling, but it was nice to be on my own. Not to mention that the wedding site was a cute little cabin next to a creek, and the weather was perfect, and when everything was done the servers gave me lemonade and I got to sit outside and enjoy myself until they finally sent someone with a golf cart to come pick me and my stuff up I’ve also now done two successful services on fish station, so I guess I’m not exclusively Garde Manger anymore. I’m honestly a little surprised, because when I interviewed they told me clearly that I shouldn’t expect to do anything but GM until toward the end of my internship, so this is a bit ahead of schedule. I don’t really know if they were just testing to see how/what I’d do, or if they really think I’m ready to start rotating me around. We shall see.

Anyway it’s now 2:30am and I still have to be at work tomorrow, so off I go.

 

The Cluny Museum

Tags

Lady and the Unicorn, Medieval Art, Museums. Cluny Museum, Notre Dame de Paris, Paris, tapestry

When all museums and monuments in Paris were open for free to celebrate French heritage day last September, I bypassed the long lines at more popular museums, and instead enjoyed a crowd-free browse through the collections of the Musee de Cluny.I know, September was a long time ago, but I wrote this post shortly after my visit, and it has been sleeping in my drafts folder ever since. I finally decided it’s time to do a little housecleaning and press “publish” on some of these posts.

I LOVE medieval art. I first discovered this fact during my High School art history class, and reinforced it with a ridiculously long research paper on stained glass during my freshman year of college. By the end of my career as a student, I had enough classes on european art that I narrowly missed counting it as a second major (and in hindsight, I don’t know why I didn’t just complete it). Since then, I’ve seldom had another opportunity to do in-depth study on the subject, but I still like to talk about it, look at it, and pretend I know anything.

The Cluny is a special museum. It’s housed between two unique buildings-the first being one of the city’s two surviving medieval homes, and the other being the remains of an ancient Roman bath that was unearthed on the site. Guests can happily wander through both structures as they please, taking in the art exhibits and enjoy the fitting architecture surrounding them. There is also a reconstructed medieval garden around the building, which is a perfect place to sit quietly and enjoy the atmosphere of Paris’ St Germain district (and perhaps eat the chocolates you just bought down the street at Patrick Roger, not that I know anything about that).

The museum has, as the unequivocal highlight of its collection, the tapestries of The Lady and the Unicorn–reason enough to visit, even if you haven’t yet discovered in yourself a love of medieval art. These tapestries are displayed in a special room constructed just for them, and are among the most stunning works of art created in all of Europe during the Medieval period. Its a shame that so many people visit Paris without seeing them.

I didn’t take pictures myself because snapping images in a dark room seemed pointless, and using my flash to take a pictures of these priceless works seemed unnecessarily damaging. So, I’m back to stealing images from the internet.

Despite the fact these tapestries are quite famous even outside the circles of art admirers, I’d never before seen all 6 tapestries together. This is a shame considering that if you analyze them individually, you miss the overarching theme that is carried across—the exploration of the senses. The first five tapestries each concentrate on one of the five senses—for example, in the “taste” tapestry, the lady is seen taking candies from a dish, while the monkey nibbles a candy of his own at her feet. In the “Sight” tapestry, we find the lady and unicorn kneeling together, gazing into a mirror. And so the theme continues, until the sixth tapestry, which stands alone, its meaning somewhat more obscure. There, the lady is seen dropping her strand of pearls into a box held by her maid servant, while on the banner above her are the words, “À mon seul désir.” I’m not a scholar, but I disagree with the usual (and thoroughly unimaginative) suggestion that the 6th sense here is “love.”  In fact, I’m not sure the 6th tapestry depicts a sense at all…I’m more inclined to think it represents something a little more figurative that ties the other 5 tapestries together. Medieval theology was often inclined to teaching that submission our earthly desires can elicit sinful behavior, the way the joy of taste can lead to gluttony, or the gift of sight can make one vain. In the tapestries, the lady allows herself to appreciate the gifts of the senses, but in moderation; after getting her enjoyment she takes off the necklace she wears in the first 5 tapestries, and puts it away until next time. As suggested by the text, the senses she experiences are not really what her soul desires, although she is free to enjoy them as she likes, but instead she dedicates them to something even greater.  In the middle ages, this virtue of prudence formed the very basis of one’s path to salvation, the “mother virtue” to medieval Christians. Its not hard to see how perhaps the tapestries represent the careful and diligent control of one’s senses toward a higher purpose.

Just a thought.

ANYWAY I really didn’t mean to spend so much time analyzing the Lady, instead I really wanted to just highlight a few of the awesome pieces from the Cluny’s collection. Here’s a sampling:

This is a statue of Adam that was originally displayed on the facade of Notre Dame. Unfortunately the cathedral (and much of its original decoration) was torn apart during the French Revolution, but luckily some of the statues resurfaced and made their way to the Cluny. Many people seem to think of medieval art (and the medieval period in general) as a time when humans reverted to some retrogressive, primitive state, which I simply don’t believe is true. Adam’s poise is natural and his body realistic, and overall it shows a fine awareness of Greek and Roman sculpture. Speaking of which—keep your eye out for the Roman Column of Jupiter, which is currently considered the oldest piece of art in Paris.

Heads on display (these were also recovered from the ransacked Notre Dame). Some are still identifiable, but unfortunately some are too damaged now to put a definite name to.

One of the museum’s stunningly beautiful galleries. I love how everything is displayed together, a mix of different mediums all crowded together, and it’s easy to get up-close-and-personal with the works. This isn’t one of those museums where you have to stand 10 feet away and look through glass windows at everything. It’s real art, made by real people, and meant to be enjoyed and appreciated by everyone. And so it is.

Another tapestry, this one depicting the body of St Stephen being transported to Rome. If you’re multi-lingual, you can easily follow the story being told, but for the rest of us, there are helpful english-language info cards to help you along. I love how demons are portrayed in medieval art. From modern perspective, they’re almost comical.

A few of my favorites—too bad about the glare on the glass! I love medieval art for its expressiveness…to the point of being pure theatrics. Just look at their faces!

And when was the last time you went to a museum with a ceiling like this?!

I loved the museum back in September when i was still new to Paris, and even after living there for 6 months and visiting some of the greatest museums the city has to offer, the little Cluny Museum is still among my favorites.

On Drive-Ins and Donuts

Tags

Char Grill, Donuts, Drive-Ins, History, Hum-Dingers, Memory, Richy Creme

Today I ate a 2-patty super burger, a corndog, french fries, and 5 donuts. Thats right. Two big, hand-shaped patties, topped with lettuce, dripping with cheese, and with a generous dollop of ketchup. It wasn’t exactly what I ordered, but the carhop brought me someone else’s meal and I didn’t realize until I’d already got home with it. What else could I do?  It was all very fortuitous, though, I’ve had an unexplainable corndog craving all day, and then God miraculously gave me one. So, if you’re one of those people who thinks he doesn’t answer prayers…..well, I just got a free corndog. Even though, in hindsight, I don’t know why I didn’t just order one in the first place. But whatever, it all worked out. Oh, and before you judge, I didn’t actually finish the burger or the fries, but I had a good time trying. As for the donuts…well I don’t know what kind of self control you guys have, but to be honest I don’t have any.

I only hope whoever got my baby burger and fries instead of all that is just as happy as I am about the exchange!

As you can see by the picture above, the donuts are a little flat. They’re kind of misshapen, the holes aren’t round, and the icing is a little sloppy. The cream filling is bursting out the sides. When you peek through their back door, you don’t see a donut assembly line a-la Krispy Kreme churning out picture-perfect specimens, just a simple flour-covered baking table. And oh man, they are delicious. Light, fluffy, and the perfect quantity of filling. The lemon one had what tasted like real lemon curd, not some cheap artificially flavored gel.  Before purchasing, the lady brought me some samples of the sour cream donut, claiming she’d “put on 5 pounds since they started carrying it.” After a taste, I could see why. And then I went against my better judgement and bought a half dozen for $3.

This silly little donut place, Richy Creme Donuts, turned 65 last year, making it just a few years older than the drive-in down the street, where the burger mix-up took place. When I was a kid, I figured drive-in’s were a thing of myth, until finally a Sonic opened and we all excitedly drove like a half hour down the road for mini banana splits. It’s a little silly perhaps, but we’re all a little bit led by nostalgia, aren’t we? I’m not sure we left feeling satisfied by Sonic’s mass-produced fare, but whether it’s a local dive or a chain restaurant, it’s still a fun experience, isn’t it?

Then, while a student, I got a job at an art gallery in downtown Raleigh, and started venturing down the road to the old Chargrill Burger joint for lunch. Chargrill is still my favorite burger in town, not just because the burger itself is pretty darn good (there’s usually a reason places stick around for 50 years), but because I like walking up to the window, writing my order on a slip of paper and sticking it through the slot to the cooks, who then make my burger to order exactly how I like it. Sticking slips through the window is a kind of a silly system when you think about it, but it’s just part of what Chargrill is.

It’s kind of special, y’know, a ritual of sorts, something that doesn’t happen just anywhere you go.

And perhaps it’s not as efficient as a drive-thru where they’ve already got hamburgers packaged up and sitting under heat lamps, ready to toss carelessly into bags and then shove out a window at a moment’s notice, but sometimes you don’t just want fast food, you want to feel you’re enjoying something authentic, something that is lasting, something that is important to the history of your town and your personal experience. And crazy as it sounds, sometimes something as simple as a hamburger can be all that.

Hum-dinger Drive-In definitely wasn’t fast, but it was authentic…at least, it was to me, a 25-year-old who never got to experience drive-in’s the first time around and to whom the 50′s just look a lot like Poodle Skirts and Grease. But perhaps that’s why I always find myself at places like this. Why, when it’s not even suppertime and I’m not hungry and I just left the donut shop with a whole bag of donuts, I still can’t resist swinging in to the parking lot to see what it’s all about.

It’s kind of like something Chuck Klosterman wrote once, “It’s uncomfortable to admit this, but technology has made the ability to remember things borderline irrelevant. Having a deep memory used to be a real competitive advantage, but now it’s like having the ability to multiply four-digit numbers in your head — impressive, but not essential.

Yet people will still want to remember stuff.

People enjoy remembering things. Remembering creates meaning.”

It’s strange to say I can remember something I never experienced in the first place, but I did a degree in History, itself not much more than a study of collective memory…which is exactly what little places like Hum-Dinger, Chargrill, Richy Creme, and who know what other places I haven’t discovered yet, give to a community. A collective memory. They exist in a world where Mcdonald’s isn’t readily available on every corner in America; instead, they have menus that have been shaped by time and local tastes. They give us special moments and experiences, they give us an anchor to place. They have old pictures on the walls of locals enjoying themselves, jerseys on the walls worn by High School ball players. They spell “potato” like “tater”. They boast themselves to be the inventors of fried bologna sandwiches. It doesn’t even matter if, in the scheme of things, they themselves really aren’t all that unique, and didn’t really invent anything because everybody in the world already knows about fried bologna sandwiches. But they give that community something unique to call its own, to identify it, and to glue it to its past.

And yknow, I think the  existence of Hum-Dinger and Richy Creme are part of what makes me really like this town. Even if they did get my order wrong.

Houseboats along the Seine

Tags

houseboats, Jhumpa Lahiri, Paris, The Namesake, The Seine

“You are still young, free. Do yourself a favor. Before it’s too late, without thinking too much about it first, pack a pillow and a blanket and see as much of the world as you can. You will not regret it. One day it will be too late.” ―Jhumpa Lahiri, The Namesake

Gettin’ Crafty…

Tags

Coffee Table, Crafts, Paint

I’ve never really lived by myself before. There’s always been parents, roommates, or crazy landladies around—keeping me company even when I didn’t want to be kept company. Now, being completely by myself day in and day out (aside from the few hours a day spent at work) and with nothing much to do, the quiet and the Friends reruns are making me crazy.

Today, I finally broke and spent most of the afternoon wandering around Hobby Lobby and resisting the urge to buy paint by number sets and cross stitch kits, before finally hitting on an idea. I’ll spare you the play-by-play, but I am on my way toward a full living room remodel. To kick it all off, $5 and a couple hours later, my coffee table now looks like this:

It’s just a $15 chipboard table from Walmart, so I didn’t put a whole lot of effort into making it amazing and durable. I figure if all the paint chips off tomorrow, so be it. But it was fun, and for the moment I think it looks pretty good

Off again to find some other things I can paint on….

And This is Where a Culinary Education In France Gets You

Tags

Garden, miners lettuce, mountains, Tennessee, The Farm

I’m not in Paris anymore, and I won’t be again for the foreseeable future, which makes me think maybe I should change my blog name from theFrench word for a charming little thatched roof cottage to something a bit more East Tennessean—–perhaps instead of La Petite Chaumiere,  it’ll be my Little Log Cabin or The Ol’ Deer Stand or This Here Pickup Truck.

And then I remind myself that even in East Tennessee  not everyone lives in cabins and sits in deer stands and drives pickups (just most of them), and people can still have snotty french blog names if they want. So I will.

OK. All joking aside (and I promise, I am joking!) I really love my new home. Imean, after 6 months of city life, it’s amazing to be able to open your windows and see a little creek and hear a little frog, rather than looking straight into the room across the street (and meeting the glaring eyes of the chain-smoking French teenagers that come with it). I like that I can get a whole apartment including utilities for what I paid for one little room in Paris. And as much as I honestly wanted to appreciate the opportunity to use public transportation, I wouldn’t trade my peaceful ride to work in my little blue chevy for all the crowded, smelly metros Paris has to offer. Not even for Ligne 14. I like speaking English, I like flopping on the couch and watching American tv, I like having modern, American-size appliances, I like my quiet neighborhood with every fast-food restaurant ever within a half mile drive, and I like my work. I like wandering out to visit the baby sheep who live next door to my workplace and waving at the goats I pass every day on my way in. I like my city, which happens to be kinda like a better version of my hometown. I like this view ahead of me every morning:

I totally pulled over to take this picture. Ok, no, but I slowed down a LOT. Don’t anybody yell at me!!!

And I like coming home to a quiet apartment and being able to do whatever I want without any crazy landladies to yell at me. Even if it includes making brownies in the middle of the night. I can keep my computer on if i want to. I can take showers whenever I want, keep whatever I want in the refrigerator and have no worry of potentially breaking anything by touching it wrong.

I do miss my French patisseries though.  I’ve tried to cope by spending most of last week baking. I’ve now got enough dinner rolls, biscuits, and cookies stocked in my freezer to last me months. I’m dying to make croissants, but as of yet I haven’t really had the patience for that kind of endeavor.

Anyway. since people keep asking me what I’m doing now, I guess I’ll tell you However, in a feeble attempt to hide from google, I’m simply going to refer to my workplace simply as “The Farm”–which, despite not being it’s full, proper name, isn’t at all inaccurate. The best thing about work is driving up to this idyllic setting every day, and being surrounded by people who sincerely care about the land and its fruit, and who find in themselves a personal responsibility to protect it, respect it, and make the most of it. This extends from the kitchen and butcher shop using every single part of the animal in some way, to creating land trusts that will preserve the sides of the mountains from ever being defaced by future development.The garden is still a little bare, but the master gardeners are working hard to get it ready for the swiftly-approaching planting season. They fly all around the world collecting rare seeds to nurture and preserve for future generations…and if we’re lucky, we in the kitchen get to collect from their bounty and enjoy a taste of something special. Even now, as we all anxiously wait for the first signs of spring to emerge from the cool dirt, we still ride out there every day or two to gather fresh greens from the hoop house.my new favorite thing is miner’s lettuce, which sprouts delicate little flowers right in the center of its leaves. It’s native to the western mountains of America, where, supposedly, miners ate it to ward off scurvy. Today, it’s a beautiful finishing touch to any salad, and I love using it.

miners lettuce in action on one of my favorite menu items.

In reality, these gardens and farmlands are really just a small part of a much larger property, operating as an exclusive resort hotel. There are animals too, and creeks for fishing, trails for hiking, a spa for relaxing…along with just about anything else you might want to do. I work in the main on-site restaurants, where we serve a multi-course dinner menu (or 7 course tasting menu, for an extra charge) to all the guests on the property.

I mostly work in the Garde Manger, which basically means I deal with cold plates, charcuterie, salads, and the like. It’s an entry level position that everyone in the kitchen starts out in before being entrusted with bigger (and more expensive) responsibilities. Basically, no one is going to let the new kid cook a filet mignon over an open flame until they’ve definitely put in the time to prove that they are capable of cooking it well and not burning down the restaurant. Despite being the bottom of the kitchen totem pole, I’m pretty ok with staying in the Garde for a while, mostly because it means i get to go to the garden regularly and I don’t have to gut fish. None of the food I make is particularly difficult, but they all have many different components that need to be individually prepped and ready to go before service starts.

And no matter what station you’re on, you’re guaranteed to be learning a lot and creating beautiful, elegant, and delicious dishes. Everyone arrives at two, and service starts at six. That gives us four hours to prepare everything we’ll need–usually enough time. We all take a break around four to enjoy a quick meal together before picking up the pace and heading into service time.

During service, there are usually two cooks on each station (meat side, fish side, Garde, and Pastry), along with the chef and sous chef who keep an eye on the line and help finish the plates before they are sent out to the tables. The way it works is that once the servers collect the order, they send us each a ticket. Once the guest is ready for the food, we get another ticket to fire. This cuts out all the yelling and confusion that I experienced during restaurant service at Ferrandi….everyone knows exactly what is going on and exactly when they need to send. If you get lost, it’s easy to look back and see exactly where you’re at. Once I get a ticket in, I immediately start building all the dishes, getting as much done on the plate as I can. Then, when we get the order to fire, I pass it to my colleague who cleans it up, adds the finishing touches, and sends it. This keeps us moving in an efficient assembly line type manner. However, a couple weeks in, I’m getting much closer to mastering the dishes and can occasionally hold down the fort by myself if my partner needs to step out or concentrate on something else. the kitchen is actually housed in a “real” red barn…apparently it was originally in Pennsylvania or somewhere, but moved down here to save it from destruction. I don’t have a picture of the dining room, but it still retains its barn-like qualities. If you pay attention, you can still catch a whiff of the old wood smell.

Anyway, I’m really just writing to show you that I’m alright here It’s not Paris, but that doesn’t mean there will be any less to write about—especially as spring draws near on the farm. Obviously some blog content will change, but actually, I still have quite a lot of things to post about Paris too! I’ll probably write less frequently, but it should be a good mix of subject matter and photos. I hope everyone who started reading my blog when I was in Paris will continue to follow me into this next phase of life

Sunday Sunset on the Canal

Tags

Canal, Canal Saint Martin, Paris

How the Other Half Lives

Tags

8th Arrondisement, Art Museums, Cernuschi, Clemenceau, House Museums, Jacquemart-Andre, Nissim De Camondo, Pagoda Paris, Parc Monceau, Paris

Last week I wrote a post about my neighborhood and my apartment. This week, I’m going to whisk you to the opposite side of Paris, to examine the lives of people who are, in many ways, quite opposite of me. The 16th and 8th arrondissements of Paris, which form the western wall of the city, contain the upscale shopping street of the Champs Elysee, the Arc de Triomph, and Trocadero (with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower). With it’s ornate 18th century buildings and grand boulevards, these are the neighborhoods that strike the fantasies of Paris admirers worldwide.

These streets have been the home of French high society for generations, and the splendor of the homes there attest to this. I first stumbled upon the neighborhood on my first and only bike ride in Paris, and it was like rolling in to another world. As I glided down the quiet, tree-lined Boulevard Pereire (itself named after prominent 19th century bankers), I honestly wondered if I had somehow accidentally crossed the periphique and had biked out of Paris altogether. Unfortunately I didn’t stop to smell the proverbial roses on that first trip out, but I always vowed to go back and explore. I finally made it back out there, under the pressure of my Parisian adventure coming to an end, and vowing to see 10 new things in my last 10 days. The starting place for my adventure was Parc Monceau. It was originally designed in the 18th century by the Duke of Chartres as a playground of sorts for the rich and famous to come and enjoy themselves. Complete with an Italianate grotto, pyramids, temples, windmills, and even a small farmhouse, it was a perfect place to come and let your imagination take hold. Today, what remains of that luxurious escape is a pyramid and the grotto, complete with a friendly patrol of ducks. The Parc is also interesting for being the  landing site of the first parachute jump from a balloon, performed by a fellow named André-Jacques Garnerin in 1797.  At the time, ballooning had become a type of entertainment (much the same as taming tigers at the circus or balancing on a tightrope over the grand canyon or those daredevil pilots walking on the wings of airplanes), and during the 19th century, balloonists would travel around and put on spectacles in the air. In some cases, it was a family affair, and Garnerin’s wife was also a famous balloonist, as was his niece, Eliza. Her friendly rival was another woman named Sophia Blanchard (who herself took over the family ballooning business when her husband fell out of his basket after suffering a heart attack). The Garnerins and Mrs. Blanchard competed with each other, each becoming more and more daring in response to the others’ latest feat. The competition finally came to an end when, sadly, Mrs. Blanchard died after setting off fireworks from her balloon.

As home to the rich and famous, the parc is bordered by stately mansions, many of which are now museums. Among my favorites in the area is the Musée Cernuschi, which houses the late Henri Cernuschi’s impressive collection of Asian art in what used to be his home.  It’s not a big museum, but it is very interesting, informative, and well-displayed. There are also, within short walking distance, the Musée Jacquemart-André, the Musee Clemenceau and the Musee Nissim De Camondo. All are very, very worth visiting, and, frankly, I prefer them to many of the more famous museums. They are house museums, restored or maintained in the styles of their former owners, and attest to the richness and luxury enjoyed by 20th century Parisian upper classes. They also, especially in the case of the Musee Jacquemart-Andre, contain very noteworthy art collections, which includes artists spanning the entire European continent, from Mantegna to Rembrandt, Jacque-Louis David to Botticelli to Thomas Gainsborough.

I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to take pictures in any of these houses, but this is a stealthy (and blurry) glance at the Musee Nissim de Camondo. I did it for you. 

…and the kitchen. What really struck me is how little things have changed between this stove and the stoves that we used in culinary school. I’m pretty sure after that experience, I’d have no problem in this kitchen.

If you decide to venture out and wander aimlessly around the neighborhood (as I tend to do), you may find yourself facing some very interesting architecture, such as this very-misplaced Chinese Pagoda wedged in among the usual mansions on Rue de Courcelles. After a little research, I found out it was built by a Mr. Ching Tsai Loo, who was a prominent dealer in asian art and antiques around the turn of the century. He specially constructed this building to use as his gallery, and no doubt ran a good business from there. Nowadays, the building can be rented out and used for special occasions. A quick google search reveals that the interior is just as impressively decorated as the exterior.

Hailing from yet another corner of the globe, I found this Russian cathedral just blocks from the Arc de Triomph. I was immediately struck by the mosaic and wanted to go inside, but the crowd of people out front made me wary that perhaps something was going on inside. The church has been in use since 1861 and has played host to many important occasions and interesting parishioners, from Pablo Picasso (who got married here) to Ivan Turgenev and Wassily Kandisnky (both of whose funerals were held here). Across the street are several heavily decorated little russian restaurants, and I am still kicking myself for not stopping in for Vareniki.

If anything, the 8th Arrondisement speaks both to the wealth and splendor of the Parisian aristocracy, but also to its incredible diversity. While it’s tempting, as a tourist, to stick to the big well-known attractions along the river, I would urge you to also take a couple hours to venture out and discover some of these hidden gems a little further off the beaten path. You will not regret it.