Feeling a tad blue yesterday I took a wander down to the Jardins Tuileries….
I feel better now…
How to beat the blues…
Confess
For those Schadenfreude moments
Shhh! I have a secret!
But first, take this quiz:
A) Do you fight small anxiety attacks when choosing from a delectable dessert menu?
B) Do you enjoy scintillating your taste buds by throwing them regular surprise parties?
C) Do you find yourself wishing you could try just a mouthful of every dessert on that menu?
OR
D) None of the above, pass the cheese please
OK ‘D’s’ you can leave now. But as for the rest of you…I have a secret!
It’s a well known fact that I’m a girl with Champagne tastes on a lemonade budget. Lesser known that I’m a dessert piglet too (is there a three step program for this?). Enter the ‘Café Gourmand’.
A ‘Café’ is just a coffee right? Whereas a ‘Café Gourmand’ is a coffee accompanied by several petite dessert surprises. Slender shot glasses, mini ramekins, spoons brimming with creme brûlée, mousse, macerated fruits, home made ice cream and sorbet; generous slithers of flan, cubes of cake, macarons, mini tartlets, berries and twille – Chef’s choices artistically anchored on large plates with generous swirls of chocolate or berry coulis. And all for little more than the straight up coffee. Sweet! (pun intended). And fast – two birds with one stone, which is how the idea originated. A secret to us tourists unless we’ve been informed by a local or we ask.
So far I’ve spooned my way through enough ice-cream to deprive a two year old’s birthday party; cake and tart to hold my own at a London high tea; creamy concoctions and mousses to want to press all those gifted shot glasses into action and twilles to research how to perfect these paper thin, haughty crisps for future posterity. And in the interests of reporting, my ‘research’ will continue. You can thank me later.
Please Aussie restaurants, please add these to your repertoire? It can be our little secret just like here in France. Otherwise ordering a mere coffee will never be the same again.
Vaisselle Techôtel
Aching balls and butter pats…
Walked this far, might as well continue
Balls of my feet are aching. A walk from Villefranche-Sur-Mer around the Bd Princess Grace de Monaco, down to Lympia and on to Port Riquier Le Port of Nice will do that. One of those ‘walked this far might as well continue’ moments followed closely by ‘how the feck do I get home’ angst.
Situation needed serious contemplation, and obligatory fortification. Sidestepped into a petite bistro, ordered a vin Rouge and what I assumed would be a cheese platter equivalent to the desperately small cube of cheddar, slither of blue vein, dot of goat’s cheese guaranteed to remain attached to roof of mouth ’till Tuesday, a grape and three small biscuits; the nature of which my beloved homeland is inclined to serve for a mere $20.
Nope…€8 offered up half a side of Roquefort, four dollops of non stick goat offering and two huge gherkins piled atop a salad accompanied by five slabs of Baguette. Holy taste buds batman! What really intrigue
d was the two butter pats in the mix; usually only proffered after one has begged, cajoled and thrown a small but noisy tantrum for the French just don’t get it. Mon dieu! Voulez vous le beurre??? Oui I bloody well want butter! But this time I didn’t, gave that fight up a while ago – I’m an undercover local now remember?
In the interests of upholding my ‘eat everything in site before the budget limps away sobbing soon’ mantra I fulfilled the duty, all the while chortling at the memory of Rossy ordering a four cheese Pizza (when Jen, Ross and I were last in France) and receiving a 5cm deep pile of melted cheese under which a tiny crust tried in vain to uphold its duty.
Rossy’s gallant effort was well rewarded with applaud from we girls and the crusty old codgers nearby. Mine with discovering Bus 81 went right past my abode, the stop just ten meters away and all for €1.20. Merci dieu!!
Arrived home and discovered this gorgeous woman (and her inherited side kick) atop the Citadel. What can I say?
