Quick Reminder! Reading at WHSmith in Paris - 1 week from today!

Calling all Parisians! I'm doing a reading/signing at WHSmith in Paris - one week from today! Please join us: Thursday, March 11th, 7pm. RSVP to books@whsmith.fr with "Elizabeth Bard Event RSVP" as the subject. See you there! E x

A Comparative Visual

Back in Paris after a month in the US. My brain, and my stomach - are completely jetlagged. I thought I'd give you the comparative visual.

Exhibit A. My parent's fridge in the US - stocked to brusting with every salad dressing known to man, three containers of cream cheese, but little actual food. (If there was one aisle that I could banish from the supermarket forever - it would be the salad dressing. Out, out, damn Fat Free Blue Cheese. Ranch, be gone!Exhibit B. My fridge in France - cleaned by G. and awaiting my arrival and a trip to the Saturday market. G basically lives off pasta, onion and lardons (slab bacon) when I'm not around. One red bell pepper and two carrots could last him three weeks. I'm dreaming the bouquet of fresh herbs (flat leaf parsley, dill, mint and coriander) that usually lives in a mug of water on the door...

I'm doing a reading at WHSmith in Paris next Thursday, March 11th at 7pm. My desk is a catastrophe. I know there's a game plan under here somewhere, darned if I can locate it just at the moment...

San Francisco Food Fest

San Francisco is my kind of town. I’ve always felt this way – it’s a combination of the whimsical Victorian architecture, the villagey neighborhoods – and of course, the food. If G. and I ever came back to live in the States – I feel certain this is where we would end up.

Breakfast is by far my favorite meal to eat out in the States – there is an alarming lack of French toast in France. So we were up at the crack of dawn on Saturday to beat the crowds at Mama’s. At 8:10am the line was already wrapped around the corner. They have the waiting down to a science (or rather an art). As the first round of tables is being served, the next round is standing by the counter, oogling the crab salad and the banana bread.Samples keep everyone from getting grumpy – ordering and paying at the register keeps the waiters’ work to a minimum. By the time your brioche French toast and Dungeness crab omelette with avocado, tomato and havarti arrives, you are calmly seated, with latte and freshly squeezed orange juice in hand. I conjured a brief image of the same scene in Paris – with fuming patrons lined up around the block for hours, wrong orders coming out by the dozens and not an apology or refund in sight…

Thinking we would never eat again, we went straight to the farmer’s market to meet the Jolly Green (Garlic) Giant (in plaid) with the free samples of fromage frais. This farmer’s market is the real reason I think I could live in San Francisco.. There’s a stand with tart dried apricots worth the round the world flight I’ve just been on. We bought some graceful French tulips with the bulbs still attached. We were ready to go – but the 2 ½ year old just had to stop to sample the blue cheese.

Sunday we found ourselves at Tara Firma Farms for a birthday party/guided tour. Two years ago, the owners (previously selling insurance) read The Omnivore’s Dilemma and decided this was their calling. Our guide – one half of the couple –was passionate, if slightly on the self-righteous side.It’s incredible what they have accomplished in a very short period of time, but it’s hard to stay on your high-horse about a $24 chicken.

The real highlight of my San Fran foodie tour was a Persian feast at the home of a dear family friend. Her daughter swears she never cooks anymore - but everytime I come to town, she pulls out all the stops: Shirin Polo - a wedding rice with orange rind, almonds, pastichos, dried barberries and saffron. Ghormeh Sabzii - a lamb, herb and bean stew.My favorite is the tadig - the crisp potato cake that cooks at the bottom of the rice. I stole one in the kitchen. I'm currently snowed in back in NY for a few more days – an oh so excellent excuse to make pot roast and noodle pudding!

Ode to Brussel Sprouts

From the San Francisco farmer's market, straight to the table (via Mark Bittman's recipe for roast chicken with cumin, honey and orange juice - 450 degrees for 45-50 minutes).

Lunch in Paris Reader's Guide

Deb from Sydney wrote a lovely comment last week - and mentioned that her book club has chosen Lunch in Paris this month. Here's a little Reader's Guide I put together. There is also an "imaginary bookshelf" with some of my favorites. If you let me know the date and timezone of your book club - we can try to work out an Skype session. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!


READING GROUP GUIDE
Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes
By Elizabeth Bard

Questions and Topics for Discussion

1. In Lunch in Paris, major life events are landmarked by food. Why is food such a potent force — and is this particularly true in France? Has a meal ever changed your life? Do you have a particular food that brings to mind certain memories, certain people?

2. Elizabeth is slow to assimilate into French culture, in spite of her eagerness to do so. Which parts of this adaptation do you think would be the most difficult?

3. Elizabeth faces some linguistic challenges as well as cultural ones, especially when she meets Gwendal’s parents — and introduces them to her own. How does she overcome communication barriers? Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you needed to rely on a form of communication other than language?

4. Halfway through a first date with her future husband, Gwendal, Elizabeth goes home with him. How key a role does food play in the seduction that follows? How does sex on a first date play differently between France and America? Does the author seem confused or liberated — or both — by the cultural differences?

5. Elizabeth has some difficulty adjusting to life in Paris after having grown up in New York. What are the main differences she sees between French and American culture?

6. In the beginning, Elizabeth has trouble understanding Gwendal’s lack of a concrete “five year plan.” Throughout the book, how do their different visions of success clash and,ultimately, complement each other?

7. In explaining his frustrations with the French system, Gwendal quotes the American author (and former Paris resident) Henry Miller: “In America, every man is potentially president. Here, every man is potentially a zero.” What do you make of Gwendal’s statement?

8. Elizabeth pushes Gwendal to pursue his career beyond what is generally socially acceptable. What do you make of her effort —and his eventual success?

9. Despite some misgivings, Elizabeth is helpless but to fall in love with French cooking. What would you say typifies Parisian cuisine? If you had to serve a meal "typical" of your culture to a French person, what would it be like? What do you think your way of eating says
about your country and its culture?

10. What meal or dish could you be seduced by — or which would you use to seduce someone?

11. When Elizabeth asks for a “normal”-size piece of cake at a family dinner, she makes a subtle cultural error that takes her a long time to understand. Have you ever been in a situation where you felt you missed a social cue but didn’t quite understand what you did wrong?

12. Elizabeth voices serious doubts about raising a child under the French system of health care, after seeing how doctors treated Gwendal’s father. Is her wariness justified? Would you be able to reconcile the French outlook with your own?

13. What will be the ongoing challenges — and opportunities — as Elizabeth and Gwendal continue to shape their life and grow their family in Paris?

Elizabeth Bard’s Suggestions for a Well-Stocked Bookshelf

Even before I discovered the joys of the kitchen, books nourished my soul. Taste in books is as individual as taste in food. Some like a creamy chocolate creation, lush and overflowing; some like the snap of a crisp green bean. Here are a few of my favorites.

Two cookbooks I read in bed:
The Joy of Cooking by Irma S. Rombauer, Marion Rombauer Becker, and Ethan Becker
Cooking for Mr. Latte by Amanda Hesser

Two books that made me snort coffee through my nose:
Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris
Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding

A book so pitch-perfect it made me weep:
Home by Marilynne Robinson

Two books that made me say, “Dear God, I wish I’d written that”:
Fugitive Pieces by Anne Michaels
For Kings and Planets by Ethan Canin

Three books I wish I’d never read so I could read them again for the first time:
East of Eden by John Steinbeck
Possession by A. S. Byatt
The Known World by Edward P. Jones

Four books I stayed up all night reading:
The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

The only book I ever left on a train (on purpose):
Enduring Love by Ian McEwan

The one book I wish I had the time to memorize, unabridged:
Paradise Lost by John Milton

Two memoirs that made me want to have lunch with the author:
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
When a Crocodile Eats the Sun: A Memoir of Africa by Peter Godwin

Two Books I can’t wait to share with my son:
Dr. Seuss’s Sleep Book by Dr. Seuss
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

Australia on my mind...

I’ve just eaten my way through an entire continent.

My trip to Australia began on a culinary high-note. Barely over the jet lag – I threw on a black dress for dinner with my Australian editor at Vue de Monde. (The chef, Shannon Bennett, and I had a session together at the Writers at the Convent festival later that week. What a girl won’t do in the name of research!)

Our tasting menu began with kangaroo tartare on a slice of crisp green apple, presented on a slice of polished wood. The experience was more theatre than dinner. Shannon’s cuisine is not about comfort food or grandma’s cooking – the thrill is precisely that you could never do this at home.

My favorite course was a rather unlikely salad of cauliflower mousse, a few leaves of kale and some neatly curled daikon, topped with scattered pearls of ruby tapioca, which had been pickled in cassis. The sauce – brought to the table in a chemistry lab beaker – was a mixture of cucumber water and dill oil. It was a marvelous ensemble of flavors and textures; together they were as refreshing as a mid-meal sorbet.

We ended with a deconstructed cheese-cake with raspberry bubbles. I repeat, raspberry bubbles. The most exciting part of dinner, however, was when Shannon stopped the table, said he was going to the farmer’s market on Saturday and did I want to tag along? Mais, oui!

Being the enfant terrible of Australian cuisine (and a former model) – Shannon has groupies. (I was told I could sell the velvet backed card with his cell phone number on ebay for a foodie fortune.) We met several fellow chefs wandering around the market, but the real purpose of our trip was to locate an elusive organic carrot man who is harder to get hold of than your average celebrity. The carrot guy took us round back to examine a crate of Easter-egg colored turnips and baby carrots. Shannon was looking for white carrots – with the snap and mild flavor of baby parsnips. The carrot connoisseur told us that carrots started out purple (he thought in Afghanistan) – and the orange ones we eat everyday were bred by the Dutch – perhaps to honor the royal family of William of Orange. That’s a bit of vegetable folklore I hadn’t heard before. If I can ever figure out how to use my Bluetooth – I’ll post some photos…

It is high summer in Australia at the moment, so the farmer’s market was full of rhubarb and heirloom tomatoes. How weird and wonderful – to experience the seasons twice in one year

The Writers at the Convent festival was great fun – Shannon and I talked about our love of Paris, and I had a session on my own on Sunday (which, rather appropriately for Lunch in Paris, was Valentine’s Day). The Australians are so passionate about travel. They love to discuss journeys – real and imagined. During the week, I did a ton of radio and print interviews – and met with many independent booksellers (who, gloriously, still hold huge sway in Australia). Frankly, I was feeling euphoric – being out there talking to readers. Back in front of my computer in Paris, I sometime forget how much I enjoy talking to actual people.

I did have a bit of downtime in Sydney – which I spent eating a great lunch (and getting a wicked sunburn) at the local fish market.

It was the week of Chinese New Year –so we had to fight our way past large families eating 10 lb lobsters and crabs as big as your family cat. The Australians are blessed with an incredible variety of seafood – oysters by the bucket, gorgeous iridescent blue crabs and tough-guy mud crabs. We choose our rock lobster, then took it over to the grill and ten minutes later – voila! We made a valiant effort with plastic knives and forks for about ten minutes – then gave up and dug in with our hands. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

An existential question nagged at me all week: Is it wrong that while I’m missing my husband and my son to pieces – I’m really loving the hotel bathtub?

Only one regret - I found neither a lamington (traditional Aussie dessert of sponge cake, chocolate syrup and coconut), nor a pumpkin scone. Does anyone have grandma's recipe that they would care to share?

Off to the farmer’s market in San Francisco tomorrow morning – one of my favorite spots on earth.

Amuse Bouche

So jetlagged that I'm starting to type in Finnish - so I'll leave you today with a tantalzing amuse bouche of my time in Australia - lunch at the Sydney fish market: rock lobster, grilled to order with ginger, chili and scallions. Equal to lunch in Paris anyday. More tales from down under tomorrow!