Archive for the ‘Paris’ Category

MAILLE: A TRIP TO MUSTARD HEAVEN

Posted: January 1, 2018 in Food, mustard, Paris, travel
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It seems silly to travel all the way to Paris for a jar of mustard, but that’s exactly what we used to do. OK…we happened to be in Paris when we made the pilgrimage to the Maille mustard shop, but I couldn’t imagine a trip to the city of light without making the stop.
Back in 1747, Antoine Maille was known by many as the greatest mustard and vinegar maker of all time. He created the now-famous Maille Dijon Originale mustard in Dijon, France, and opened a shop in Paris to sell it. To this day, the company follows his strict guidelines to re-create that magic. The Maille company opened a second store, in Dijon, in 1845.
Saving us thousands of dollars in travel expenses, there are now 2 Maille mustard shops in my home town of New York City.

The supermarket stuff.

When you visit the Maille Paris shop on place de la Madeleine, you’re surrounded by beautiful displays of colorful jars of mustard. But you need to focus on the mustard taps–yes, like beer taps–at the main counter, a long oak bar where fresh mustard (no preservatives, never more than 10 days old) is dispensed into ceramic jars that are filled, corked, and wrapped in tissue paper.
Our mustard of choice is the Maille Chablis mustard, which is unlike anything I’ve ever been able to find here in the States. And though it is potent, it has a magical quality that I can’t even begin to describe.

How do I get one of these taps in my home?

While you’re standing in line for your mustard–and there is always a line–you can sample the three fresh mustards offered with a pretzel or a cracker. Aside from the Chablis mustard, there is also a grape juice and honey mustard, and a white wine mustard.
In the old days it was a sad day indeed when I opened the last jar of Maille mustard, look deep down inside, and saw that there was nothing left…just a dry residue of crusty mustard. I’d have to wait until our next trip to Paris. Now, it’s an excuse to go home to New York City and stock up!

ONLY DORA WOULD MISS HER BACKPACK MORE…

Posted: September 16, 2013 in Capri, Caribbean, ile de re, Maine, morocco, New York City, New Zealand, Paris, Rhode Island, Santorini, travel
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After years of unfailing service, my trusty backpack has decided that its days of journeying are over.

It was all so sudden…

Edges fraying, zippers jammed, stitching coming loose, rubberized grommets dry and brittle, mesh water bottle compartments sagging–their elasticity nothing but a memory–I suppose I simply refused to acknowledge the signs of a life well-traveled coming to an end.

BACKPACK

Over the past five years, my backpack has carried bottles of wine and bags of fava across Santorini…ocean-carved granite stones from Monhegan Island off the coast of Maine…conch shells from the beaches of Anguilla….an unlikely combination of amber and smoked fish off the Baltic coast of Lithuania…jars of pate from gourmet stores in Quebec City…questionable electronics purchased on a street corner in Times Square…crocks of magnificent Maille mustard from Paris…gurgling 5-liter cans of olive oil from Puglia…cryo-vacced sausages from San Sebastian…sacks of Fleur de Sel purchased roadside in Guerande, France…dried fruit and nuts from the Souk in Marrakech…and full-sized, stinky wheels of young Pecorino from an outdoor market in Faro.

My backpack cradled all the things that ensured my safety and comfort on my journeys: passports, wallet, pocket knife, flashlight, a few feet of rope, note pad, business cards for livethelive.com, water, energy bars, Valium and Ambien for those long plane trips, Pepto for those bad food choices, and Immodium for those really bad food choices.
It accompanied me while snorkeling in St John…loading up on pasties and smoked whitefish at the foot of the Mackinac Bridge in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula…swimming with dolphins in Moorea…riding camels along the Morrocan coast in Essouria…slurping oysters by the dozen in Pensacola Beach…flying in a hot air balloon over the vineyards outside of Barcelona…diving off the rocks in Capri…circling the dog track at the New Orleans Jazz Festival…boogie-boarding at Nauset Beach on Cape Cod…touring via helicopter over mountains and glaciers to Milford Sound in New Zealand…and relaxing poolside at the Four Seasons Resort in West Palm Beach.

Always behind me and never a complaint. A fond farewell. Thanks for watching my back, pack.

MAILLE IN PARIS: A TRIP TO MUSTARD HEAVEN

Posted: October 21, 2012 in Food, mustard, Paris, travel
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It seems silly to travel all the way to Paris for a jar of mustard, but that’s exactly what we do. OK…we happen to be in Paris when we make the pilgrimage to the Maille mustard shop, but I couldn’t imagine a trip to the city of light without making the stop.
Back in 1747, Antoine Maille was known by many as the greatest mustard and vinegar maker of all time. He created the now-famous Maille Dijon Originale mustard in Dijon, France, and opened a shop in Paris to sell it. To this day, the company follows his strict guidelines to re-create that magic. The Maille company opened a second store, in Dijon, in 1845.

The supermarket stuff.

There are several varieties of Maille mustard available in most supermarkets here in the United States, but the one mustard you can’t get…is the one you really want!
When you visit the Maille Paris shop on place de la Madeleine, you’re surrounded by beautiful displays of colorful jars of mustard. But you need to focus on the mustard taps–yes, like beer taps–at the main counter, a long oak bar where fresh mustard (no preservatives, never more than 10 days old) is dispensed into ceramic jars that are filled, corked, and wrapped in tissue paper.
Our mustard of choice is the Mailles Chablis mustard, which is unlike anything I’ve ever been able to find here in the States. And though it is potent, it has a magical quality that I can’t even begin to describe.

How do I get one of these taps in my home?

While you’re standing in line for your mustard–and there is always a line–you can sample the three fresh mustards offered with a pretzel or a cracker. Aside from the Chablis mustard, there is also a grape juice and honey mustard, and a white wine mustard.
Despite the fact that they say the potency of the fresh Maille mustard doesn’t last more than a few months, it doesn’t stop my wife and me from buying enough to keep us happy until the next trip to Paris a few years later. The way I look at it, the less potent Chablis mustard is still better than anything I can find on a store shelf here at home.
It is a sad day indeed when I open the last jar of Maille mustard, look deep down inside, and see that there is nothing left…just a dry residue of crusty mustard. I put the jar down, and go directly to my computer to book the next possible trip to Paris!

JUVENILE’S WINE BAR IN PARIS…A MUST STOP

Posted: October 2, 2012 in Drinks, Food, Juvenile's, Paris, Saveur, Tim Johnston, travel, Uncategorized, wine, wine bar
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Paris has a special place in the hearts of my wife, myself, and even my 5-year-old daughter. It’s where my wife and I got engaged back in 2002. It’s where we celebrated my wife’s 40th birthday with family and friends in 2005. And it’s where my daughter has ridden on seven—count ‘em—seven—carousels…a record I’m sure she’ll want to break on her next trip.

One of the reasons why Paris is so special to us is a small, unpretentious wine bar called Juvenile’s, at 47 Rue de Richelieu. The owner is Tim Johnston, a sharp-tongued wise-cracking Scotsman who happens to know a helluva lot about wine and spirits, and is in fact a consulting editor to Saveur magazine. Tim takes no BS from his clients, and that adds to the entertainment value of every visit.

Hangin’ with Tim.

My wife met Tim back in 2001, just a few months before she had met me, when she and her Mom took a trip to France. The friendship with Tim was forged, and it has been going strong ever since. Tim, in typical fashion, tolerates me because he enjoys the company of my lovely wife…and I can’t say that I blame him!

The food at Juvenile’s is rustic…nothing fancy here. But it is all very good and satisfying. We’ve found what we consider the best foie gras in Paris here. The potatoes with raclette and bacon are fantastic. Sausage dishes, duck dishes…all the favorites, all wonderfully prepared in a very, very small kitchen in this wine bar that holds, perhaps, 30 people.

Paolo, Tim’s right-hand man, working the tiny kitchen at Juvenile’s.

Juvenile’s is one of Paris’ original wine bars, serving wine by the glass way before everyone else thought it was cool to do so. And even the locals will come in on a regular basis to ask Tim what the latest great wines are. The man has earned the respect of those who know.

We make Juvenile’s a mandatory stop with every visit to Paris we make, lingering sometimes for an entire day…eating, chatting, and sampling wine and even fine cognacs that Tim is willing to share with us. Often, we come back for a second and even third visit during the same trip. It’s a great place to unwind and get away from the hectic pace of the day, whether you’re a tourist or a local.

Yes, that says 1962!

The next time you’re in Paris, stop by Juvenile’s and tell Tim I sent you. He will promptly throw you out!

Tim and me. Great t-shirt!

A MOMENT OF BRILLIANCE IN PARIS

Posted: September 10, 2012 in chicken, Food, Paris, potatoes, spuds, travel
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I love French cooking. Whatever they create, no matter how simple, is almost always better than its American counterpart. Part of that comes from the demand for the best quality ingredients. Nothing comes out of a box or a packet…everything’s made from scratch.

So it was no surprise that when I was in Paris on vacation recently, and I was walking through a Sunday farmers market in the Marais district, that something as simple as chicken and potatoes knocked my socks off.

You can find rotiserrie chicken anywhere in the USA, and it’s common in France as well. But what made this so special was the potatoes. They took small fingerling potatoes, peeled them, and then placed them on the bottom of the rotiserrie oven, where all the juices, herbs, flavors, and yes–fat, slowly dripped down from the rotating chickens above, basting and flavoring these spuds like nothing I’ve ever had before.

It was an incredible moment, popping one of those golden morsels in my mouth, and savoring the wonderful flavor of something as simple…as a spud.

Read more: http://www.94hjy.com/pages/alz_food_blog.html#ixzz264Ffyp3j