A Valentine to beat all Valentines... Part 1 - Food

For Valentine's Day this year my husband and the kids presented me with a box of chocolates, a bottle of wine and a card. Cute, considering hubz and I don't do anything for Valentine's but the kids make a fuss so we kinda go along with whatever they want to do.

The envelope that the card came in was bulky and I saw (a long while later) that it had another page folded inside. I thought that it might be a voucher for a spa treatment or a letter from one of the boys.

It was...

Needless to say, I was VERY pleasantly surprised! "What about the children!?" is a mother's natural first reaction. "Call your Mom." was his natural first response.

For fear of not jinxing anything, I didn't want anyone to know about the trip until I got my visa. We told the boys and told them not to breathe a word to anyone until everything had been planned and confirmed. We didn't even tell my Mom until she had arrived in Johannesburg (Day 1: Mom arrived; Day 2: hubby left for France and my graduation day; Day 3: I left for France. Cutting it close!). Actually, there were two other people I told; a friend from Switzerland who lives in Mallorca and a friend from South Africa who, at the time, lived in Amsterdam. They were  both excited and without hesitation decided to join me in Paris for the 3 days that hubby was going to be in Clement Ferrand for a kendo tournament. Oh yes, I was going to travel to Paris alone and be there on my own for the first three days and spend the last three with the hubz.

The visa came and I thought it would be fun to still not tell anyone but to post pics on social media from Paris. I loved keeping this experience to myself. Also, I didn't want it tainted by tales of misfortune or leave exposed ground for seeds of doubt to be sown. These are the pictures I posted on Instagram:

Step 1 - Take the train.

Step 2 - Take the plane.

Step 3 - Take another train.

Where in the world can we be?

The cafe where I had my first Parisian breakfast/brunch. Opposite the Notre Dame. I didn't take any pictures of the omelet and orange juice I had here.

By the time I'd met up with my friends, dropped my luggage at the hotel, taken many trains and walked for a few hours we decided to stop for brunch at the cafe opposite the Notre Dame (above). I'm not into taking selfies or pictures of food and you won't see much of that over here, sorry. Uhm, actually... There are a few.

Those first days in Paris were a gastronomic experience! That was kinda the point with the friends I was with. We vowed to eat as much as what we could in the time we had and with the limited funds at our disposal. (How disheartening when you hand over a thick wad of ZARs and get 3 notes and some coins in return!) 


Food, some of it...

Day 2's breakfast venue around the corner from our hotel.

According to the Frenchman who spent 2 days with us (friend of one of my friends) this was a REALLY good croissant.

Savoury breakfast option: quiche, vegetable soup (like my mommy makes it), salad and hot chocolate from the Jewish Quarter, Le Marais on day 3. This part of Paris is busy on Sundays because it is the only arrondissement where the shops and restaurants are open.

Excuse the fuzziness. That's pure, rich, dark chocolate that I could easily just lick off the spoon and out of the cup. But I was in Paris. Gotta act all cultured and stuff.

That right there is a 5Euro eclair and well worth every Euro cent!

You OBVIOUSLY have to have French wine when in France... Well done France! Almost as good as South African.

I have no idea what the heck that is. It must be sweet and delicious. But all I see is French polony and cheese bread that you'll find at a ghetto Spar.

I don't drink coffee, but I do consume waaaayyy to much chocolate. This cup of M&M's came with a shot of cappuccino. There was literally a quarter cup of M&M's at the bottom of the cup.

The Monoprix closest to our hotel had greengages from South Africa. We didn't buy any coz, c'mon...

Butter is a staple in Paris. Vats of it can be found at your local street food vendor.

This is by no means the only photos I have of the food that we consumed (I'd like to keep some of it private) and I didn't take pictures of all the food that we ate. Personally I think it's rude to whip out a camera for absolutely every photo opportunity, especially when you're in company. And I wanted to enjoy the experience through my own senses and not through the lens of a camera.

The first night we had dinner at a quaint little French bistro in Montmartre. It was all so very French and oh so charming. The only staff on duty was a Chef and his Sous and the Maitre/Garcon. (I know, there needs to be a little lick under the C but I don't know where to find it on my keyboard) I don't know if there would have been place for an extra ladle, it was that small. Chef came out to greet us, made conversation and offered free drinks on the house. My friend said he looked Sri Lankan. She would know because she was born in Sri Lanka and was adopted by a Swiss couple when she was a baby. Either that or she's just world-wise because she has traveled extensively. 

We had the most amazing food while Garcon kept bringing wine, liqueurs and coffee, all on the house. On the house because he was tippling on his side too. 

Excuse the poor quality of the picture I poached from the Amazon website. We had a violet liqueur that was as delicious as it was beautiful to look at. I don't know if this is exactly what it looks like, but it from my recollection it looks similar.

I noticed that the menus at most of the restaurants had an option of a set 2/3/4 course meal. It usually works out most cost effective to order these menus and they are flexible in swapping out courses. I had brown onion soup as a starter, fillet steak with potato gratin and veggies and chocolate mousse for dessert. I'll sell my soul for the soup! Aromatic, bursting with flavour, with the traditional bread toasted with cheese floating on top. The beef fillet was glorious, beautifully seared, succulent and melted in the mouth. The veggies were fresh and sufficiently steamed to a crunch.

That night we encountered French barbarism. Our Garcon didn't like that we each paid for our own meals. He was really angry that our guy friend didn't pick up the tab. A lot of swearing and throwing of credit card machines took place and at the end of the night we ran out of there, squeezing a 20 Euro note into Chef's hand who tried to get in between Angry Garcon and us and show us to the safety of the street outside. A night I will never forget!

The second night we had dinner at Godjo, an Ethiopian restaurant in 8 rue de l'Ecole Polytechnique.

Godjo

Most of these establishments are really tiny, housing only tiny square tables with four chairs when only 2 people can comfortably occupy it. This place had a spiral staircase to a basement that was cozy and not big enough for a few of the men to stand up straight. It looked like it was carved out of the ground and spackle plastered. There were no place for tables down there but there were a few very comfy, poofy couches and Ethiopian stools that doubled as tables. All very appropriate for the way the food was presented, meze style. This was my first time experiencing Ethiopian food, which is embarrassing for an African. We know of European, Eastern, Western, you name it foods, but we know very little about cuisine that our own continent has to offer. 

OMG, the injera!!! 

Injera flat bread. Photo poached from here.

A unique, sourdough flat bread. Unique in texture: soft, rubbery pancake. Unique in flavour: sweet sourdough. Unique in the teff grain that is indigenous to and exclusively grown in Ethiopia. The platter is lined with injera and topped with an assortment of meats and stews, depending on what each guest orders. 

Typical platter from Godjo. Image from here.

We ordered an extra serving of the injera. And then another. And if we didn't hit a food wall we would have ordered another. I had a stewed fruit and bready type dessert that was, again, like something my mommy would whip up, but with a sweet spiciness to it. We ended the evening with glorious Ethiopian coffee. The non-coffee drinker had coffee. Hey, when in Ethiopia and all...

Night 3 with the friends was Japanese. We had noodle soup as a starter, sushi and waaaayyy to much sweet, sticky pudding. All the overindulgence was justified because we walked an average of 15km every day, hitting 21km on one of the days. 

That was the night that we said goodbye to our French companion and the night that I took my first solo train trip back to my hotel. I was traveling with my friends all that time, but felt confident enough to gun it on my own, at 11pm. The metros and streets are still bustling at that time of the night with normal-looking people still freely moving around. No creepy crawlies lurking, yet. I didn't feel conspicuous at all until I arrived in the lane where my hotel was located. I took comfort in the fact that there was a large church just next to the hotel and saw it as a sign that I was being looked after. It wasn't a dodgy part of town by no means, but you can't be too confident.

Hubby arrived the next morning and our gastronomic excursion came to an end. I'd mindlessly spent a whole lot of Euros on sit-down eateries and was happy to pretend to be a local and pick up a loaf of bread at one of the many bakeries and make do with on-the-go food with the hubzster. The next few days were dedicated to the typical touristy stuff and we had little time to spare. Hubz is also very relaxed when it comes to food and will prefer to do the on-the-go thing vs a sit-for-hours move.

Part 2 in another blog post with more touristy stuff that we got up to because this post is way to long already.

Thoughts and comments welcomed below.