13-a baker’s dozen

Last Sunday I attended, assisted and feasted at a grand brunch for 25, with David Lebovitz as the guest of honor. The hostess was Laurel of 13-a baker’s dozen, one of my favorite lunch spots in Saint Germain, with home cooked specialties. Also, my first choice for coffee and dessert (specifically Laurel’s famous carrot cake). This too is one of the locales where I hold my bag painting workshops.

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Friends uniting over food and conversation. An ideal Sunday.

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I’ve met David on several occasions and couldn’t wait to read My Paris Kitchen.

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What could be better than tasting recipes from David’s new book?

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Have I mentioned the carrot cake?

photo 8Melissa of Prête-Moi Paris and I took photos and helped to make everyone feel at home, and of course we dined like queens! I’m already looking forward to the next brunch… at David’s?

a love story

The most beautiful love story of my life, other than my own, began many years ago in the early 70’s. It was a meeting of two disparate souls, their paths forever altered by a chance encounter. (Sounds familiar?) My Mom and Dad met in London on the night before my father was to return to America. Little did he know that a woman who introduced herself as Cleopatra, would leave such an impact. What happened in those moments will forever remain a romantic mystery, as it should.

Seven days later the young Polish beauty received a letter from the handsome American gentleman. He was returning to London to see her again. And to propose. They were married three months later, and thus began their life together. Almost to this very day, so many years ago.

It was here in Paris that they spent their honeymoon, my father being a devout Francophile. Three weeks of romance on the left bank. Hotel des 2 Continents on 25 Rue Jacob, to be exact. How fitting! On my many carousings in Saint Germain, I often walk on Rue Jacob and imagine the time my parents spent there, the many places they went, the bistros they dined in, the conversations they had, the first chapter of a the life between a writer and his muse…me, a romantic?

It also happens to be the location of one of my favorite sweets shops in Paris, Laduree. Even more reason to dream, with macaron in hand, as I live my very own love story. Inspired by two romantics.

SOLDES!

The word on the streets is SOLDES. All of Paris is on sale. Apparently this is quite an event, happening only twice a year, as regulated by the government. The sales continue for five weeks, a Winter cleansing of sorts, in preparation for the new Spring styles. Finally I can shop in this fashion capital! Prior to these seemingly never-ending sales, I merely stared glossy-eyed into the windows of the many boutiques lining the streets of the Marais and Saint-Germain. The price tags in the windows often prevented me from entering, considering the less than ideal exchange rate. Why tease myself? I would look, but dared not to touch. And now, prices are almost equivalent to those in my favorite Nolita or Soho boutiques in NYC. Somehow the ‘Made in France’ label makes shopping in Paris more of a cultural experience. Might I even consider the additions to my wardrobe an investment?

Bonne Année!

What better place to spend the last day of a most memorable year than at the Tour Eiffel, in the glow of it’s hourly brilliance. To toast in a new year reminiscing all the splendor of the last we crossed the Seine to an intimate eatery in Saint Germain (resulting in a typically French eating experience I will refrain from describing in any detail, only to mention there greatly lacks a customer service mentality in Paris) followed by drinks and dancing with the locals until we could cheer in the new year across the ocean. A bi-continental celebration of sorts ending in penne al salmone at 6am (Italian style). Today we strolled around the block with passports in hand, to invite much travel in the new year, a tradition my dear friend Jen passed on to me from her Colombian roots. Cheers to another year of love in the city of lights!