Last night was slightly awful. I made the choice to walk in the direction of Avenue Montaigne, where the Vogue Fashion Night Out was, in my heels. I began walking, thinking that I could just hop in a cab. The one problem, other than the drizzle, was that cabs in this city don’t pick you up. It is rare to see a “green lit”/ available cab in the city and slightly more likely to see a red taken cab. The yellow lit cabs on the other hand seems to have people in them and sometimes not. So I trotted down the main boulevard still searching for a cab and when I couldn’t find one, I popped into a hotel and asked them to call one for me. I don’t really know how all that works, but it certainly didn’t work for me. The guy told me that there was a cabstand a block away.
One block turned into three and one blister on my foot turned into two. I approached a cab and three creepy guys (yes there are many of them in this city) stood around the cab driver chatting. Before I could ask if he was available (mind you he was the ONLY cab at the cab stand or for miles) one of the creepy dudes said something that resembled “I’ll give you a ride if you give me a kiss” (YUCK). One of the men pointed to who he called the driver, who knows if it really was, so I asked if he could take me and he said ‘No”. I don’t know if these people are just lazy but they are certainly at times useless. I waddled my blistered self around the corner where he pointed to another cabstand. Well, that cabstand needless to say was useless as well. There was an empty cab there too, sans driver. Then I never heard from Virginia, so when I got there, I gave up and went home.
Back to Mr. Hottie Chef and my disaster. As you recall, I wrote my notes out for class. Well, I wrote them wrong. I omitted 100 grams of flour in the recipe. That was just the first problem. I began by over mixing the butter and flour so when the egg got mixed in after, it had become a slimy yellow mess. Hottie looked at me as if I had committed an atrocity. I asked if I could restart and he said yet, do it quickly. I completely lost my cool. I quickly started again speeding through the measuring. The next time I showed him, he told me it was too sticky and looked at my recipe. He must have thought I was completely out of my little mind. He went over to his recipe and double-checked. I was missing 100 g of flour he told me. I think my face melted. I had already turned the crumbled, sand like dough out onto the surface and began working it. He advised me to add the rest of the flour as I started working my dough into a ball. My only saving grace was that I happen to be an expert apple peeler. Luckily the rest of the tart turned out okay, although it was cracking a bit.
The next event we had was a demo, thank the lord it was only two cakes and madeleines. It was Mr. Hottie Chef that taught the demo. We decided that he’s desirable, although I happen to think he needs a little help. He never smiles, well only when he or the translator talk about something very French, ie the region a type of butter comes from. He does know a lot about the history of food though and that makes him more appealing. I happen to think that during demo he winked at me while I was dreaming about him helping me bake in my kitchen. And that’s not me being delusional. Shibani happen to ask why he was looking at us (we were sitting together, as we do everyday) and then he winked. Luckily I didn’t have him again in my following practical, hours 6-9 that night, although I did redeem myself with my fruitcake (yuck) and madeleines.
An exciting event took place today, I happened upon Bon Marche! HOLY GUACAMOLE!! That place is a godsend. I only spent about an hour shuffling through the aisles, marveling at all of the delicious looking stuff they had. I didn’t buy anything because I was planning on going to the farmers market down the street. I have to hold off on that for the moment. Some lady, yapping at me in French offered me a quarter of a gigantic spinach and ricotta ravioli. It was amazing. I pretended not to look like I was waiting for a sample, but then she just handed it to me. It was awesome. It definitely beats Costco.
So, I had my first market experience today. I got extremely overwhelmed walking down the narrow aisle. There was just far too much and I lost my way. I was also turned off by the amount of meat there was and the pungent smell of fish (icky). I think I was staring at an animal’s liver for about 2 minutes before I ate a slice of nectarine. Don’t get me wrong, the nectarine was amazing, but that whole liver fiasco put me into a tizzy.
I finally made it home only to pass out in my lovely (not so soft) bed. Thank the lord I brought my own pillow.
My body is finally starting to recognize all the butter and sugar that I have consumed in the past week. It doesn’t really like it.
Luckily I have Sunday off, the second day off since I got here!
Time to watch bootleg Suits.
Oh wait, I completely forgot about what happened after my 9 hours at school. Although I was slightly less than thrilled that I would have to go out after my long day, I had a wonderful time. When I got home D was creepily waiting for me across the street and then the girls showed up one by one. Oh wait, maybe I did write about it. Oh well, I had a lovely dinner with them down the street. I always love their company. Too bad D left today. What am I to do? Well, I cant say he was entirely useful, his gluten free thing didn’t help the fact that I have mountains of pastries for someone to consume. I do give him props for surviving 10 days in Paris without an ounce of gluten… well maybe not an ounce.
Bisous
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