I'm waiting on a happy event

Over the past month, it has become blatently apparent that I am sharing my body with another being.  I'll feel these twitches in my abdomen that feel like a muscle spasm or a big popping bubble, and I'm reminded that the bulge in my tummy is not from too much cake or beer, but from an ever growing bundle of joy.

Yes, as the French say, I'm waiting on a happy event.  A bébé.

All of a sudden, I've been whisked into this adventure and into the French healthcare system.  The government views me as a revered being, this thing that needs to be monitored and protected at all costs.  I need not stress, I need not worry about money - Mama Marianne is gonna take good care of me.  Coworkers and family view me as someone to welcome into the clan of motherhood.  They give me advice (good or bad...) and tell stories of their pregnancies and birthing sessions.  Other Parisians view me as that horrid round woman who had the audacity to demand that they give up their seat so that I may sit down and not worry about falling.  Or they just don't view me at all as they hide behind their newspaper, pretending not to see me (and these are the folks I go for when asking for a seat!)

And can we please talk about living in a country with more cheeses than days of the year, and all of a sudden you can't eat but five of them?

Being pregnant in a country that is not your own and that is far away from your family and friends is quite the overwhelming experience.  Things that you see your friends experiencing through their own pregnancies may not necessarily work over here.  You can't get some of the same baby gear that they are getting.  There are a few commonalities, but not many.  And can we talk about the vocabulary you have to learn - both medical, commercial and baby talk?  I'm definitely earning my Master's in French as a Mommy Language.

So what do I see as being the good, the bad and the ugly from my experience thus far?

Bye Bye 2012...and Paris?

Oh hey.  Remember me?  One of the many Americans who lives in Paris and talks mostly about the food.  Yea, I finally felt like writing.  Mostly because I don't want to stand up and make Christmas cookies for the next few hours.

About the time of my last post, the hubby and I got some life changing news.  And all my thoughts turned to that.  Suddenly, I couldn't really go out to the hot and trendy restaurants, because half the menu is off limits to me.  And most of the time, I come home from work and just want to crash from being so tired.  All excess energy reserves have to be focused on how to handle this life change.  It sounds depressing, I know...but really, the changes that are coming are quite the blessing.

Fast forward two months, and we get more life changing news.  We might be leaving Paris.  Changing continents.  Changing lifestyles even more.  It's really been a lot to take in.

I love France, and I love Paris.  I am so lucky to be able to have all these museums, beautiful buildings and gastronomical gems at my disposal.  My French family goes beyond my wildest dreams and makes me feel so welcome here all the time.  For the first time in my life, I can truly say that I feel like I can be myself.  Before, I never imagined that I would actually make a life here.  Now, I can't imagine a life where this wasn't the picture.  But the hubby and I are excited about these new possibilities, despite the eyebrow raises and the scared reactions we tend to get when we announce where we might be going.

And to be honest, I'm ready.  While the magic of Paris never fully goes away, I'm over the attitude.  I'm over the crappy weather.  I'm over the constant defensive posture I have to take to get many things done, from my residency permit to getting a full night's sleep on Saturdays at 3 AM.  To me, it will be nice to live in a place where people face a different reality, a different daily grind.  Where they aren't so hung up on the name dropping, the way you dress, the school you went to, or the way you pronounce a word.

I'm ready for 2013.  Normally, I am rather indifferent to the beginning of a new year.  I don't celebrate it in a big way, and I would almost rather sleep than stay up to watch the sunrise on 1 January.  But this year, I feel like we have so much to be thankful for and anticipate with excitement.  It'll be hard, but all the good things in life are.  At least I'll have a fantastic person by my side who will eat up Paris with me as we start to say our good-bye, welcome these life changes with a smile and laugh, and make the next year beautiful.

Happy Holidays folks, and may your 2013 be equally as exciting as mine.

Food Porn Friday: Chez Casimir

There are so many incredible restaurants in Paris, that it is often hard to keep up.  The new openings by amazing young talent definitely keeps you on your toes.  There are many restaurants that don't take reservations or aren't open on weekends, making it that much harder.  Let's not even get into the potential stress on your wallet (and your waistline...)

That's why a Parisian gal needs a couple aces in her pocket.  Reliable, cozy restaurants where the food is always great and the price is just right.

Chez Casimir is definitely one of those restaurants for me.  On an unassuming street near the Gare du Nord, it has become a reputable restaurant among foodie circles, but lacks the pretention that many popular restaurants come to have.  Friendly staff.  Great variety.  Simple but flavorful dishes.  Words can't even describe their mind-boggling cheese plate.  Their four-course menu is under 40 euros.

Fresh melon with salad greens and lard (thick bacon)

Tartare de boeuf

Gâteau aux fraises

Chez Casimir is like the Utopia of Parisian restaurants.  You can have an affordable, awesome meal and the servers make you want to leave them a tip.  This restaurant is one of the few that I'll go across town for a meal.  And for a girl who works late hours, and hates Parisian transport, that means it's pretty damn good.

Eternal Honeymoon: Athens and Santorini

On the gorgeous summer day we got married, Fab's cousin wished us a life that was an eternal honeymoon.  And since that day, we've tried to make our life like that.  We travel when we can, exploring new sights, tastes, and wonders.  It was fitting, then, that our first anniversary be spent somewhere else in this amazing world other than our tiny Parisian apartment.  We escaped the incredibly cold, grey Parisian summer and headed to Greece.

First Cooking Post: Lavender + Spice Roasted Peaches

Ok y'all.  I'm back from a long hiatus.  Traveling, work, and various other distractions have kept me away from writing and enjoying Paris.  Plus, can we talk about the fact that we have yet to really have a summer in France?  Mid-July, and I'm still wearing a jacket and sweaters while running around this city.  Depressing.

Which is what inspired me to make this:

I bought loads of summer fruit to not only boost my complexion, but to boost my spirits.  Nothing says summer more than peaches and strawberries to me, so I stocked our fridge.  Somewhere in Europe they are having summer, because despite the dreary weather, all the fruits have been delicious.

I might have gotten a little too carried away, because I bought a full bag of peaches.  And they got ripe super quick.  Crap.  If anything could be more heartbreaking than wearing a sweater in July, it would be wasting such beautiful peaches.  So I roasted those suckers in the oven, with some brown sugar, lavender, spices and then put some vanilla ice cream on it.  Damn was it good.  When the juices combined with the ice cream, it was just heavenly.

I'm not sure if the best part was the taste or the fact that it literally took less than 10 minutes to throw it all together and fling in the oven while I ate dinner with the hubby.  Both probably.

Lavender + Spice Roasted Peaches
serves 4 people
Prep Time: <10 minutes
Cooking Time: 30 minutes

Ingredients
6 barely ripe peaches, halved and pits removed
1/4 cup (55 g) light brown sugar, not packed
1 teaspoon all-spice 
2 pinches of lavender buds (I got mine at Whole Foods)

Preheat your oven to 185 degrees C (365 degrees F).  In a clear glass baking dish, arrange your halved peaches.  Sprinkle brown sugar, spices and lavender buds on the peaches.  Slide in the oven and bake 30 minutes or until peaches are soft and skin is starting to wrinkle.  Serve warm, making sure to spoon the juices on the bottom of the pan onto the peaches, and with vanilla ice cream.  

Flamby vs. Cupcake

It started off as a joke.  A laugh between friends and family.  The little Southern girl who got so flustered over cultural idiosyncracies that she one day exclaimed during a rant, "As soon as I have my French citizenship, I'm running for President!"

While I still lack the citizenship, and probably the money and sponsors, I've decided to share the laughter and dreams through the written word. 

Do you dream of service with a smile instead of customer service that makes you (almost) cry?

Do you long for ice cubes in your local grocery store to allow for hours of party rockin' with cold beverages?

Do you feel that if a Parisian were to say "excusez-moi" in the métro when knocking you over during the morning commute, they just might explode?

If you want change you can believe in...come join the fun bus that is Flamby vs. Cupcake.

Overly processed flan ain't got nothin' on cake and icing made with love and Southern hospitality.

3 Years and Counting

My first trip to Paris was a marking experience in my life.  I remember walking through Tuilleries, without even really knowing where we were.  We sat on the green chairs on the elevated area near the Jeu de Paume museum, looking out across the Place de la Concorde and towards the Eiffel Tower.  There's a picture of me, with my sunglasses on, slightly tipped on my nose so that you can see my eyes.  I'm looking back at my mom, who took the picture, from the chair.  It was my first attempt at Parisian attitude.

I don't remember what I ate (seriously...this is strange for me), I don't remember any certain smells or even certain emotions.  I just remember Tuilleries, and then walking up the Champs-Élysées towards the Arc de Triomphe.  And that's when I saw her.  This tall, thin, glamourous Parisian woman.  She was wearing all black with towering black high heel shoes.  She walked with such confidence down the Champs-Élysées.  She even jaywalked across the avenue, which at the time shocked me so much, but I admired her guts, her courage...her Parisian swagger.  In my unsure, unconfident teenage mind, I saw some certainty in this woman.

I would be her one day.