There are only a couple of things in life that will get me out of bed before six in the morning. Writing is one. A ticket on the 07h45 TGV to Paris is another.
The Angry Chef and I went to Paris to visit our friend Bruna, a good friend of mine from high school who’s spending the year in Paris studying cinema. I love spending time with Bruna because we have a strong connection to each other’s “pre-European” life, and being around her is so easy it’s become another reason to love Paris.
This meant I unfortunately had very little time to write over the past few days (I’m currently on 11,651 words – I’ll be setting myself a new goal soon), but it was worth it. Bruna is a journalist by profession and a closet writer like me, so I always feel more inspired to write after we see each other.
The Angry Chef started our stay in Paris the way we always do: with lunch at Le Zinc Honore, a small bistrot that serves good wine and nice food at great prices, and never disappoints. We were served by the quintessential French waiter (down to the thin dark mustache). The Angry Chef felt it was important for me to point out that he had a beautifully presented veal with a wonderful lemon-lime cream sauce.
Before we met with Bruna in the afternoon, we went to Charvet for a look. If I ever find a woman’s clothing store in the world that makes me feel the way I feel inside Charvet, my credit card will be in serious trouble. Charvet is my Tiffany’s. Everything is laid out so beautifully – the colourful silk ties, the beautiful fabrics, the silver and gold accessories… It’s like walking into a different era. You half expect to see gentlemen walking in with their umbrellas, hats, coats and three-piece suits. Perhaps it doesn’t sound so special when you live in a city like Paris or London, but this is the kind of charm that I find amiss in cities like Geneva. Everything seems to be about extravagance, and glitz, and “bling” – where, I ask you, is the understated elegance?
The gentleman who looked after us at Charvet did so with the right amount of familiarity and “old-school”-ness. He took one look at The Angry Chef and immediately knew his measurements, even his shoe size! I’m married to him and even I can’t guess that information as accurately as he did!
We met up with Bruna at Opera after surviving the pouring rain that came out of nowhere, and played a little game I like to call catch-up. We walked around a bit once the rain had passed, and decided to have dinner later at Frenchie Bar a Vin – which turned out to be closed. So we went on to a new restaurant near by which only opened last week – Vino & Cucina, which turned out to be really lovely. The three of us shared three entrees – Italian charcuterie, an aubergine mille-feuilles and a mozzarella burrata with sun-dried tomatoes. The Angry Chef had joue de boeuf with risotto as a main course, and Bruna and I had duck with lavender honey. We all had pannacotta with pineapple and grappa for dessert. It was a very nice meal, and the service was excellent – but the kitchen still needs to work out a couple of kinks.
Dinner with Bruna was, as usual, great fun. The last time we had seen her was at our wedding a few months ago, and one of the things I’ve been enjoying since is asking people about all the little side stories that are part of every wedding – you know, the stuff that happens with the guests. We had a small wedding, so I didn’t think there would be that many stories.
But that was before Bruna told us about… the incident. The Angry Chef and I learned that there are always at least three sides to every story.
To be continued…