Ten More Pounds!

Paris is a dizzying display of deliciousness. The cakes and cookies and pastries rival the cheese. Our tour guide yesterday was telling us that there are strict rules about how to make everything in Paris and that there are "millions" of societies (guilds) for each food. Like bread. She said that you cannot have the same person make bread AND cakes in a boulangerie. It's not legal. And if that happens, you will be fined. A lot. So bakeries don't do it.

They also use the freshest, best ingredients. American meat is outlawed here and has been for 30 years - why? Because hormones and additives are not allowed here. Neither are GMOs (genetically modified organisms; these are fruits and vegetables that have been chemically altered to produce larger or more "genetically favorable" results, such as thinner skins or frost-resistance); in America, many of our foods may be "organic" (farmed without the use of pesticides) but their seeds are genetically modified, so who knows what their chemicals are doing to us internally?

I hadn't given it too much thought in the US, just tend to try to buy organic, but here's what happened when my kids begged us to buy strawberries in the supermarche on the first day: the kids said, "Mom, why are the strawberries so little?" I shrugged but we bought them anyway, hoping they'd be okay. When they bit into the berries, they said, "They taste different." I grabbed one, saying, "Is it bad?"

"No, they're amazing!" The kids had red juice oozing from their mouths and the entire pound of berries was finished before we'd walked the single block back to the hotel.

What's the difference? Instead of being "meaty" and fleshy with a "strawberry" flavor like what we're used to, these berries were like perfumed gem-like candies, tasting like tiny bursts of juice. They don't even taste like strawberries... it's like a cross between a raspberry and a sweet plum... or a just-picked cherry... It's delightful. Not created for mass-consumption, just a revelation of berry sweetness.

But the entire city is filled with stands like this, for every little thing. Antoinette (our tour guide) took us to a tiny block that has thrice-weekly produce markets and is surrounded by brick-and-mortar shops; the butcher, the baker, the candle-stick maker... Seriously. There was a fish monger, then a cheese store, then a butcher, then a bakery, then a gourmet sundry store... It was intense, this focus on the quality (not the quantity) of the food.

For an American with just a few days here, it is overwhelming. I want to try EVERYTHING. But it is enough to know that it's here and it has already changed my perspective on food. It makes me want to grow my own food and make everything fresh; a Sisiphyan feat for an American mom with kids who have typically American palates, but I am intrigued. If they can love strawberries like that and can appreciate the difference in the quality of the bread and butter we're eating, then maybe they can learn to want to eat differently. It's a start, anyway.
I only wish I had my running shoes so that I could (maybe) counteract my new love affair with food. I can now appreciate Julia Child's love for French cooking.

Barcelona Gastronomica

We have eaten two different ways for dinner in Barcelona. For the most part, we've eaten at our hotel's little desk, eating food we've bought from the amazing Il Cortes Ingles (a 3-location department store -- each location is a few blocks from the others, and each houses different sections; for example, one location is just kids, denim and hombres and another is for the supermarket, perfumes, etc.).

I love buying food at the supermarket because everything is sort of familiar and yet so foreign. You can buy juiceboxes and fruit and sundries, but if you want fresh milk, you're kind of out of luck. Better to buy the boxed variety. The irony is that there are THREE whole sections of yogurt in the dairy area - heaven for a yogurt-crazed woman like me.

So, for the most part, Raf and I have snacked on manchego and brie cheeses with fresh bread, apricot jam, nuts, tomatoes and dates, washed down with a bottle of wine (which is so dang cheap here, even for the yummy rioja wines). Add a little dark chocolate and it's more than enough for a good meal. The kids have been good with sandwiches of fresh bread and butter, a few pieces of fruit and some almonds, and a little boxed apple juice.

But then Raf and I had an amazing idea. Since our 20-or-so-room hotel is closed to the public (you have to be buzzed in) and there's an incredible restaurant on-site, two floors down from our room, we thought, Hey, Emme can "babysit" and we can eat downstairs while they watch TV. So we made reservations and did just that.

We ordered a bottle of Cava (Spain's sparkling wine) and the 60-euro per person "gourmet tasting menu" which had seven or eight courses - I cannot even tell you what we ate, exactly, but it was one gastronomic feat after another. For example, one appetizer course came served in tiny shot glasses; there was a layer of an orange-pink fish pudding topped by a layer of wispy cream. Another course featured small pieces of seafood and vegetables artfully placed on a shallow dish; once the dish was placed in front of me, the server poured a cold gazpacho soup over the seafood and vegetables, then dusted with black truffle shavings.

Our pre-main dish was served on a piece of slate (pictured above). It was a gold brick of mashed potatoes (the "gold" probably was real gold dust molded into a kind of fondant), a single snap pea, cuttlefish, a scallop, and a swipe of gold dust. Seriously. And it was surprisingly good. The main dish was a beef filet with cherry confit on top - incredibly melt-in-your-mouth good.

For dessert, there was a mango or papaya pudding floating in an almond cream and topped with an "herbed ice" -- crushed ice that is infused with herbs like rosemary and mint and god-knows-what. Then a deconstructed tiramisu and finally a plate of unusual chocolates (infused with chili and wasabi and some sour Asian fruit) and coffee.

We don't normally eat gourmet food, so this was a chance to step outside of the Cheesecake Factory zone. It was like the taste bud version of a crossword puzzle, to keep my appetite for gourmet delights sharp. We couldn't have afforded El Bulli (touted as "the best restaurant in the world," and it's here in Barcelona), but this was, for us, just as good.

The best part? The kids only called the restaurant once.