Archive for the ‘Lunch’ Category
I’ve got lots of thoughts today, my friends. Lots of thoughts.
First off – the winner of a year long subscription to YogaDownload (chosen with Random.org)…
Congrats, Grace! I’ll email you shortly!
Thank you to everyone who entered – you all still have a chance to get a discount! Just enter the code HungryYogini at checkout through March 31st for a 35% discount on all classes through YogaDownload. Enjoy!
Now, onto the next order of business…
After a lunch out on the town, I feel compelled to share some thoughts with you. I do love good food. Mmm, yes I do. And dining out is such a treat…a time to relax and spend time with friends and family. But to be honest – as much as I love it, I hate it just the same.
You heard me. Hate it.
Heather summed it up really well last week in this post about her “rules for dining out,” and I found myself relating to exactly what she described. I go to restaurants a lot of the time with some preconceived idea of what I can eat, usually based on what I’ve eaten earlier in the day, what I plan to eat later, and however I feel about the usually imaginary ounce or two I’ve gained in the last 18 and a half minutes. Ridiculous. But true.
Now. Picture you’re living in Paris, home to some of the most delicious food ever. Everyday you leave the house, instantly smelling the macarons and fresh baguettes coming from the bakeries on every corner, and watching gorgeous people dining in the cafes and restaurants on every street, sipping wine and eating foie gras and crème brûlée like it’s going out of style.
Today I was amongst those diners, and ventured out to lunch with my foodie friend Jane, feeling both equally excited to have a meal in her company, and anxious about calories, sugar, and overindulgence.
The food was wonderful – we each ordered the Salade Popeye; a bed of spinach with bacon, parmesan, balsamic vinaigrette and a poached egg.
But this post isn’t about the food. There we sat – two young, beautiful girls in Paris, both worried about the same thing.
We talked about it – the frustration, the anger at the fact that we even felt the way we did; guilty about our past few months of indulgence as we eat our way through Paris, wanting to do something about it, but yet still wanting to fully embrace this experience and accepting the fact that right now, we are where we are and that’s that. Jane is a women’s studies major, and I too have read every book about female empowerment (amen, sistah friend!), but despite reading and studying strong women, confident role models who are so much more than some outside shape or figure, we both struggle.
Doesn’t it just make you mad? Why, oh why, can we not just sit back, relax, and enjoy? Why does my Salade Popeye, in all it’s cheesy, bacon filled goodness, come with a steaming hot side dish of guilt and remorse?
I’ve read the books, I’ve gotten, err, help, and I take deep breaths ‘til I’m blue in the face, and still continue to feel that duality – the desire to surround myself with good food, and that little tinge of guilt for doing so.
It’s the ultimate food fight. No, not that messy lunch cafeteria food fight with spaghetti flying across the room – another kind of food fight; that internal battle that so many of us have going on at any given moment. Be it rules for dining out, or a special diet of some kind, there are different degrees to this food fight, but it seems to be such a recurring theme and I just want to do something about it, know what I mean? Why can’t we just stop the food fight?
Paris has challenged me in ways I can’t even describe. This has always been something that’s been a part of me, ever since I can remember at this point, but adapting to a new culture, language, and way of life has brought the challenge to a whole new level, forcing me to stay on my toes and more than anything, be gentle with myself. I like to think of the challenge as a positive thing though – yes, it gets hard, but I think I’m going to come out stronger in the end, yes?
I’m not sure what the solution is, but I wanted to talk about it, mostly because after my conversation with Jane today, I know I’m not the only one. It’s just one of those things that I think about often, but just don’t really know what to do about, know what I mean? But. I’m ready to.
What are your thoughts? Do you have rules, or feel that duality with indulgence and guilt? How do you deal with the “food fight?”
Well, that’s all I’ve got for now. I’ll leave you with a little poem, a new favorite.
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
– Wendell Berry
I think Spring is my favorite time of year. It’s funny really… In Florida, we don’t really have seasons. Not for real. There isn’t really a distinction between Summer and Fall, Winter and Spring – ya know what I mean? It’s like so subtle, that you could almost miss it.
Well, after surviving my first winter in Paris (save for one year living in Connecticut – random), the turn of Spring has made me giddy with excitement, and has left me feeling a whole new sympathy for those living in colder climates full time. Props to you, guys. I don’t know how you do it!
It’s funny actually– I haven’t really taken into consideration the whole winter thing. Not until now that it’s over at least. I mean, I brought jackets and coats and what not – but I didn’t really think too much about how it would affect my body, how I feel and what I eat.
So as the weather gets warmer (we saw temps near the 70s today!), I’ve felt a major shift in my mood…and of course, my appetite.
Take the other day for example. I woke up wanting one thing, and one thing only. Green juice.
Well, the whole raw food, juicing movement hasn’t quite caught on here in Paris, but I finally found a place where I could get my fix and was so excited to get my hands on this yummy lunch today…
I went to Bob’s Juice Bar in the tenth arrondissement and got the formule – a large juice and a quinoa salad,
and was more than happy with my experience there! The people were very nice, and were more than willing to whip up something special for my juice blend. This one had cucumber, spinach, apple, ginger and lemon. And they even blended in some spirulina at the end. Oh. And they spoke English. Double bonus.
After enjoying my salad, and savoring every sip of my green drink, I came home to relax for a bit and finally spent a little bit of time in the kitchen after several days of a hiatus.
I whipped up a batch of my Stove Top Granola with a little some somethin’ extra this time – a little tropical mix of dried fruit. Yum.
I seriously love this stuff. And it’s so easy! I enjoyed the fruits of my labor (pun intended) over a little bit of yogurt this afternoon.
Other than granola, I haven’t much felt like getting in the kitchen lately. Perhaps it’s the sunny Paris days that are luring me away from the kitchen. Or perhaps it’s the less than easy work space…
Would you like the grand tour? It will just take a second 
This is the extent of our counter space. And you have to hope you don’t need to chop anything and get into the microwave at the same time…
And our pantry. Well…
…it needs work.
Oh, and don’t get me started on the kitchen gadgets. This is our most heavy duty knife…
…and it couldn’t hurt a fly! Oh and that last picture also features our dishwasher….hand power, baby!
Looks like the, ahem, dishwasher has been slacking on the job. I see a few things in the sink! Oopsie.
Needless to say, my kitchen adventures (besides the granola which luckily requires no real effort) have been less than inspired. I like the whole get in get out of the kitchen method – preparing a dish on a weekend (like Vegetable Stew for instance) and eating the leftovers until you’re blue in the face they’re gone.
Speaking of leftovers, I jazzed up the last of my veggie stew tonight with some broccoli and fresh shaved parmesan.
Even these veggies had a little taste of the Spring that’s in the air – lots of zucchini, eggplant, and tomatoes. Love.
Luckily the weather is turning and things that don’t require top much kitchen time like salads are sounded much more appealing. I have all these ideas in my head for really delicious recipes, and I can’t wait to put some of my ideas to the test when I get home – just bear with me for the next 5.5 weeks, k?
How about you? First – do you live somewhere with a real winter? Like…ya know. With that white stuff… I think it’s called snow
And do you notice your tastes changing as the seasons change? What are you craving? What are some of your favorite Spring recipes? What’s your favorite time of year?
Today I met up with a new friend Claire for lunch at an organic food restaurant in the 9th arrondissement called Pousse Pousse.
We went for a late, leisurely lunch and were so excited to eat some of the things we missed from back home. All the food here in Paris is so fresh, but many of my dining experiences have been with French foods and ethnic foods prepared with lots of butter and other yumminess – a little different than what I eat normally at home.
I’ve been craving some fresh stuff. You know, like the crazy hippie healthy stuff. Like sprouts. And seeds. And nuts, like me.
Oooh, and juice…
Oh, juice, how I miss you. This had carrot, apple, fennel and ginger. I usually prefer a green juice, but this was so delicious and refreshing. It was prepared moments after we ordered it, making it super fresh and very tasty.
In true French fashion, we had the three course formule over the course of two hours starting with a super hot carrot and lentil soup.
They also served some raw flax crackers, and of course, French bread, as no meal would be complete if served without it.
Next course – salad, a nut pâte, a tart with endive, and a delicious salad of cucumbers and seaweed in some kind of spicy sesame vinaigrette.
And finally, dessert. Oooooooooooh my. Dessert.
Chocolate, Je’ t’adore. This was warm and ooey gooey. Everything chocolate should be.
And this! Banana soft serve anyone? This was non dairy ice cream that was just banana, agave and…tahini! So delicious! Can’t wait to make this when I get home!
The food was delicious, and the company was even better. Claire is a fellow yogini studying in Paris for the semester so much of the conversation revolved around yoga – and of course girl things like boys and clothes
After lunch (which lasted until 4pm, a quality I just love the French for!), my roommates and I headed over to Notre Dame to hang by the river, sip some wine and just relax for a bit.
Of course, life is all about balance. Therefore, wine is necessary. Always.
Oh, good news. Now that the weather is warm, my handstand tour of Paris has begun.
Muahaha.
Have a happy weekend, my friends!
Bring the pure wine of
love and freedom.
But sir, a tornado is coming.
More wine, we’ll teach this storm
A thing or two about whirling.
-Rumi
Santé!
Today was just a lazy day. Those always feel good every once in a while, especially after a long week…or say, climbing 700 steps up the Eiffel Tower. Ya know…normal things like that. Yep, sometimes you just gotta sit back, relax, and kick your feet up.
After donning my capris and ballet flats, I spent most of my day like this…
and then like this….
with some of this in between…
Ooooh, salads. I’ve missed you. This one was mixed lettuce with avocado (which I’ve also missed dearly) and some leftover sautéed veggies – caramelized onion, red bell pepper and eggplant – all with some balsamic vinegar, olive oil and grey salt. The veggies were cold, but were perfect on a little salad for lunch.
Oh, do you see that little red journal in that picture up there? Not only do I divulge my innermost, darkest, deepest feelings and secrets, but I also write lists. Grocery lists, to do lists, things to make when I get home lists – the usual everyday lists. I love lists.
Anyway. I might have to devote a whole page to salad creations I’ve been dreaming up. And other creations. Mostly food related. Geez. It’s kind of like that all you want is water but you’re in the middle of the desert so you can’t have it kinda feeling. My kitchen is so tiny, and we have one tiny knife that probably couldn’t even give me anything worse than a paper cut if it grazed my skin. Ooooh, and my blender. And my oven. Okay, I’m moving on now.
I did manage to get to one neat spot today…Shakespeare & Co. After sitting on the edge of the Seine this evening right by Notre Dame, we walked home stopping in the little book store to browse, play the piano and use the type writer. Love this little store. It was my second time there and I’m certain I’ll be heading back soon.
I bought a copy of Eat, Pray, Love – my very favorite book. I’ve read it at least three times and can’t believe I didn’t bring it with me here. I’ve been thinking about the book a lot lately and couldn’t resist buying it when I found the last copy they had there. I felt all warm and fuzzy inside carrying it home in the 60 degree weather that has graced Paris for the past few days.
I know Elizabeth Gilbert just came out with a new book that I’m definitely going to read when I get back to the US. And you know I’m counting down ‘til when the movie comes out.
Julia Roberts, don’t fail me now! I do love Julia so hopefully she does my favorite book justice. Book to movie type deals are hit or miss. Let’s hope this is a hit!
What is your favorite book? Books to movies…like? Dislike?
I thought I’d leave you with a new favorite poem…I do love me some poetry.
Cutting Loose
Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason,
you sing. For no reason, you accept
the way of being lost, cutting loose
from all else and electing a world
where you go where you want to.Arbitrary, a sound comes, a reminder
that a steady center is holding
all else. If you listen, that sound
will tell you where it is and you
can slide your way past trouble.Certain twisted monsters
always bar the path — but that’s when
you get going best, glad to be lost,
learning how real it is
here on earth, again and again.-William Stafford
Aw, shucks. You guys sure do know how to cheer a girl up. Thank you for all your kind comments, encouraging words, and stories on yesterday’s post. I really appreciate the virtual hugs – How did you know I needed them? Perhaps it was the 239847 typos in that post that drove the point home about my emotional state – but yep, I needed some hugs. So, thanks.
I woke up this morning, foot still slightly hurting – but better. Much better. I always love really slow mornings – sipping coffee, reading, wasting time on the internet. I live for mornings like this. Waking up early, all quiet in the house – peace. It was the symbolic fresh start I needed after yesterday.
I had plans to meet up with my friend Jane as well as my photography teacher for lunch, so I set out for Chez Cham around 11:15. I met my friend at the metro stop (Chemin Vert), and we, of course, got lost both in awe of the weather and with giddy excitement about a nice meal.
The temperatures were in the 50’s and 60’s and I’m happy to say I broke a sweat (who would have thought that’d be good news!?) thanks to the gleaming sun beating down on us as we wandered through the 3rd arrondissement looking for the restaurant.
I have been wanting to try this restaurant for a while now. They have an appetizer and plate du jour featuring fresh produce from the local markets – my kind of restaurant. It was a tiny little place, buy cozy and beautiful.
The menu is brought to the table on a giant chalk board, proudly displaying the fresh dishes available – so darn cute. I went with the 13 euro formule of the daily special starting with the cucumber, tomato, and tuna salad with house vinaigrette and fresh parsley,
and then pork cooked with a honey glaze on a layer of the best mashed sweet potatoes I’ve had in quite some time.
Mmmm.
I decided to skip the dessert course, but Jane was kind enough to give me a taste of her raspberry panna cotta. We laughed after I politely declined a bite, yet still greedily grabbed the tiny spoon out of her hand when she passed it over. As if I needed convincing.
Note to self: Find recipe for raspberry panna cotta. ASAP.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a meal out in France without a glass of red wine.
This is one aspect of French culture that won’t send me home sobbing. Red wine? At lunch? Umm, yes please! It’s funny though really – in the land where wine is cheaper than water, I have had less wine here than I used to at home. Wine was a regular part of dinner back home – at least 3 or 4 times a week. Just a tiny glass to round out the meal. But more on that in a minute…
Lunch was a two hour event, followed by a stroll (a limp?) to a nearby cafe,
and some entertainment as well…
These guys were great – they were playing just outside of Notre Dame. Gotta love the street performers. They took the streets by storm today thanks to the nice weather.
I’ve been relaxing the rest of the day. My foot is finally feeling better after lots of stretching and a little self-massage on the bottom of my foot. I even made a little dinner… Nothing special, but really delicious – a kind of “kitchen sink” stir fry…
This one had onion, red bell pepper, eggplant and spinach with a little leftover chicken, a cooked beet from the farmer’s market, and some hummus. Don’t be jealous of my fancy silverware. Don’t.
Vin Rouge
Sitting at lunch, drinking in the middle of the day (totally normal), I remembered an article in the New York Times a couple weeks ago about drinking and weight loss/maintenance. Some research showed that women who were “light or regular drinkers” actually weighed less than their non drinking counterparts.
What do you think?
Onviously, moderation is key. I’m certain a nightly mojito or daiquiri would wrack up quite a few calories and cause some weight gain, not to mention be detrimental to your health – but I actually felt healthier and more fit than ever last Summer when I would often have wine with dinner.
I think it makes me slow down and enjoy my meal a bit more – perhaps that’s the key thing. If you drink a whole bottle – yes, there will be consequences. That’s not rocket science. But a nice meal with well paired wine is an experience – it always helps me slow down and savor my food, making it easier to recognize when I’m satisfied.
Alcohol of any kind used to be one of my “forbidden” foods/drinks/whatevers. It worked out for my parents – they got a very easy to handle young adult who didn’t get in trouble on the weekends, but honestly the whole drinking thing used to trip me up. My whole fear of it probably cost me lots of fun times to be had. Or maybe not. But I know that now wine is such a social experience for me, and I’m glad I’ve gotten over the guilt of indulging in a glass (or two) and really just enjoying it.
What about you? Do you drink? How often, and what’s your drink of choice?
When I first came to Paris, I imagined myself dining out in bistros and cafes, eating classic French dishes like beef bourguignon, or ratatouille or creme brulee, all while wearing a black béret, striped shirt, and a gorgeous French man on my arm.
Okay, a girl can dream.
What I didn’t imagine, is how madly in love I’d fall with the variety of ethnic foods there are in Paris. Ethiopian, Lebanese, Asian…you name it. You can taste all the flavors of the world without ever leaving the city.
Like today, for example. After a meeting at another PR firm in Paris, my friend Jane and I went to Passage Brady in the Indian quartier. It’s a tiny little street with several Indian restaurants, all of which are delicious and very inexpensive.
We walked down the street, browsing the offerings while being solicited to dine in several of the restaurants by the very eager hosts, and eventually chose Pooja.
The decor was dramatic, and lavish and I, of course, loved every detail. It was like we had traveled out of Paris for a little while -
In true French fashion, however, meal’s were offered in menus or formule with several courses. For a set price you pick an entree and a plat, or sometimes an appetizer, main dish and dessert. Or sometimes just a main dish and a dessert. You get the picture.
I went with the 12 euro formule – an appetizer and a main dish that comes with cheese naan and saffron rice. Jane went with the palak paneer, a spinach dish with fresh cheese. Mmmm.
But first, we shared a mango lassi,
and played around with the water glasses like the mature adults we are.
Tee hee.
First up, raiti, a yogurt dish with cucumber and spices that is usually eaten with spicy foods to cool the palette and balance out the burn.
They brought out three spices before the meal came – two of which were very spicy, and the third which was sweet. My favorite was the green one – and yes, these are the technical terms I wish I knew what they were all called, but alas, I do not.
Anyway. Along with the raita, they brought out the basmati rice with saffron,
and cheese naan which words can’t describe.
Although not authentically Indian, cheese naan is one adaptation to French culture I appreciate 100%. I promise you, it’s worth the trip to Paris for this alone 
And well worth the gluten coma I’m currently experiencing.
Our main dishes were palak paneer,
and a chicken curry dish that was so tender and flavorful.
We shared everything on the table family style, and sat at the table for over an hour – another aspect of French life I’m really appreciative of.
We left Pooja with very full bellies,
and lingered through the area for a bit stopping in the specialty store,
and got beautified with a little eyebrow threading before heading back to our side of town.
It’s amazing how quickly neighborhoods change in Paris. One minute it looks like this –
and the next it’s that stereotypical Paris street scene…
I made my way back home, taking pictures as I walked through the quartier latin. I have a strange love for the doors here. I have tons and tons of pictures of doors. Just doors. Blue ones, black ones, red ones, strange ones, open ones, closed ones, broken ones. You get the idea.
Strange, I know. But there is just something about them that catches my eye.
I’m currently home, sweet, home, snuggled in some comfy clothes and catching up on a bit of school work. All in a day’s work.
What’s your favorite kind of food? Asian, Indian, American? What is some of the strangest ethnic food you have tried?
I loved today’s Indian food experience, but Ethiopian food is climbing the charts for me too. I also love all the flavors in Mediterranean food. Next up on the list – an African restaurant. It’s amazing how much you can learn about other cultures from food. Yes, some of the decorations in these restaurants are exaggerated to create an experience or feeling, and often times the food is adapted to the local culture (Life, for instance, food is usually less spicy in France than it would typically be in original recipes because that’s what the local culture prefers), but I still think you can really get a taste of certain parts of the world by trying different flavors – and I’m not just talking about the food!
Until next time!
Today I decided to keep my camera in my hand for pretty much the whole day to take you along for the day. Well, not so typical. I’ve mentioned before that we are in the midst of a two week intensive module course about global communication and advertising. The days have been long and there is lots of work to be done.
Of course, I’ve still managed to find time to blog. Obviously. Oooh. And eat. Here’s the play-by-play.
6:48am Up and at ‘em.
7:15am Coffee. Must make coffee.
7:16am Oooh. And oatmeal.
7:25am Sippin’ coffee, eatin’ oatmeal. Life is good.
7:50am Time to get ready for a longggggggggg day. Lots of layers. Fahreeezing out.
8:30am Off to Ketchum, a PR company, for a class field trip. Step outside – realize I don’t have enough layers on. Zut.
8:58am Right on time.
9:00am Meeting starts – We talked to one of our professors students who now works at Ketchum, and then the European social media manager. Pretty awesome! We are focusing a lot on cultural differences in advertising in communication between Europe and the US, and also how social media is becoming an important tool for communicating information. Go bloggers!
11:20am Our class leaves Ketchum, and we make our way over to Musée de la Publicité. We learned the hard way that trying to get 12 students in and out of the metro, with no idea of where we are going I might add, is a very difficult task.
11:35am Curse all stairs in Paris. After today’s adventures, I’m fairly certain it’s impossible to leave this city with out a firm hiney and very strong hamstrings. 
11:40am Must. Have. Snack. Running through the metro works up quite the appetite. Café crème and yaourt aux fruits sec from a little corner cafe does the trick.
12:00pm Museum visit. But not without more stairs. Seriously!?
This exhibit featured a bunch of French public service ads. We watched a bunch of commercials and read a bunch of ads about everything from safe sex to domestic abuse to world hunger. It was really neat to compare the cultural differences in advertising…many of the images and ideas used in French advertising would never fly in US culture. Lots of explicit pictures and video – mon dieu!
1:00pm Finally leave museum, famished. My roommate and I race back home which is about 30 minutes away from where we are, and then another 30 minutes away from school, giving us about 15 minutes to devour lunch. First, the metro.
1:30pm Home sweet home. Thank God for leftovers.
Mixed lettuce with a dressing of dijon mustard, balsamic vinegar and olive oil, topped with leftover quinoa and a little bit of stir fried onion and bell pepper, and rotisserie chicken. Devoured in 10 minutes flat. Yumz.
1:50pm Dessert.
2:05pm Back to school we go. Of course it’s gorgeous outside. We soaked in the sunshine while we could on our 25ish minute walk.
2:30pm Class starts. Blah, blah, blah culture. Blah, blah,blah advertising. Must. Pay. Attention. But so darn tired.
2:32pm Distracted. Playing with my planner. Obviously.
2:40pm Must. Focus.
2:45pm What was the name of that song I was listening to earlier? Something with Ane Brun…but wait…hmmm..can’t remember. Ooooh, right. Class. Got it.
2:50pm But really. How do you poach an egg? Earth to Courtney. Did the teacher just ask me a question? Ooops.
3:30pm Break. Yes. Time for chocolate. Obviously. And some walnuts and a love note from my darling Nana. Gotta lover her.
3:45pm Back to class. Must. Concentrate. In the homestretch. Will I make it!? Fingers crossed.
4:45 Another break. Well, we are almost done for the day. But I won’t turn down another break. Time to get crazy and make some bad decisions.
5:30pm Class is over, time for our cheese class. Oooooh, yes. Cheese class. We learned a little bit about the cheeses in France, the regions they come from like Camembert from Normandy, Brie from…well, Brie, and some of the regulations on naming certain cheeses and other foods in France. Along the same lines of champagne can only be called champagne when it is, in fact, from Champagne. France is very proud of it’s regional foods!
I, of course, being the mature adult that I am, laughed hysterically when our teacher exclaimed – “Ok it’s time for a tasting. I’ve cut the cheese.” with the most serious face I’ve ever seen in my life. You know you would have laughed too…
We started with the milder cheeses like the goat milk cheeses, working through the brie and camembert (that had been washed in calvados, an apple brandy also from Normandy. Yum) and ended with the strongest of the cheeses – a Roquefort cheese with walnuts and dried currants. Le sighhhhh.
Mmmm. Stinks so good. I went back for several other taste… you know – for learning purposes. And of course, it wouldn’t be a cheese tasting without a glass of wine. Or two. Et voila! Dinner!
I’m fairly certain my skin and stomach will hate me for eating bread – mais c’est la vie!
6:30pm Cheese class is over. Time for a presentation from our photography teacher – she showed us a bunch of her art projects and is really inspiring me to get the ball rolling on some of my own photography projects – I’m thinking something yoga themed. It would only be appropriate, yes? I’ve already started scoping out volunteers for this Summer when I’m home. Muahahaha.
8:00pm Presentation is over, and I’m pooped. My roommate and I drag ourselves to the metro, and can’t wait to get home.
8:30pm Finally home. Time to shower, put on comfy clothes, plop myself in front of the computer…and eat licorice. Yum.
10:31pm In my mind, this post was going to be a lot more creative. But once home, showered and in my PJ’s, my brain has turned to mush. The days have certainly been long for the last week and a half and I’m counting down the seconds until Spring Break! Only three more days of class. Yesssssssssss.
10:43 pm PUBLISH.
I’ve been excited about today since the semester started. It was the first day of our photography class, which is called Le Flâneur Reconsidered: Documentary Photography in the Streets of Paris. Insert gasps of excitement here.
I, of course, woke up at 7:00am in anticipation and like any dorky kid on the first day of school, made a delicious breakfast. You know…brain food.
I had some leftover steamed broccoli and caramelized onions and peppers and decided to finish off the rest of them in an egg scramble. Nothin’ like one or two servings of veggies to get your morning started.
The scramble went perfectly with my GF quinoa bread (one slice with butter and Bonne Maman, and the other with a dab of almond butter).
With body and brain fueled, I packed up my bag (or should I say bags – purse, computer bag, camera case) and made my way to school. Obviously I was the first person there. Can you say dork?
Class was inspiring. My teacher, we’ll call her Dr. R, is free-spirited and contagiously passionate about all things photography…and well, life in general. The goal of the class isn’t so much to understand the technical aspects of photography, but rather to see things differently – to look for the untold story in the old man walking down the street, or the couple sitting in the cafe. The art in life I guess you could say.
As part of class we are encouraged to keep a journal. A say whatever the hell you want kinda journal – not one of those well this leather bound journal is just too nice so I have to say something profound or else kinda journals.
I couldn’t help but chuckle when Dr. R described it like this – I’m far too guilty of buying nice journals and never writing a single word because I felt like my worlds weren’t good enough to grace the pages of such fancy, overpriced paper. Pshhhh. Pretty darn stupid.
We talked a lot about having confidence when taking photos, and laughed when she described the worries of our generation. “You’re probably worried that you don’t have the right shoes on, or that something you say will be stupid, or that you might have gained a whole two pounds.” She made such a good point – we are so worried about how the world is looking at us, that we don’t take time to wonder how we look at the world.
Wisdom, my friends. Wisdom.
Everything she said hit home for me – I feel like I’m constantly caught up in worrying about silly things that don’t matter. Like, for instance, the fact that my body is a bit more, ahem, supple now that I’m here in Paris. Not because I’ve gained any weight, but I’m not practicing yoga as regularly and my body is changing. But it’s so dumb to worry about that when the Eiffel Tower is within spitting distance from my kitchen window.
And another thing – my future. Why am I so worried about what I’m going to do tomorrow, when I haven’t even gotten through today?
Well, I digress. But I felt liberated after listening to her talk. No more censor, my friends. I was on fire after her class, feeling totally inspired and wanting nothing more than to embrace that free spirit and just be. Like she says, “it takes some real ovaries to be yourself.”
Of course, all this inspiration worked up an appetite. My friend Jane and I wanted to continue channeling our inner artists and decided to head to lunch at La Rotonde, a famous cafe that is just a block away from school on the corner of Boulevard Montparnasse and Boulevard Raspail.
It was frequented by many artists, like Picasso for example, in the early 1900’s along with several other cafe’s in the neighborhood. In exchange for coffee and baguette, artists would contribute paintings or drawings or whatever they could as payment. Unfortunately that system isn’t still in place
Nonetheless, our meal was delicious. I had my first bowl of French Onion Soup that was cheesy and delicious. I also had a salade au saumon – raw salmon with purple potatoes, carrots, and onions and a light vinaigrette. So. Flippin. Good.
My mind has been racing with ideas and thoughts since class today. I’m so excited for what the semester is going to bring, and even more excited to share some of my pictures. She’s given us several projects to think about – she wants us to develop a theme for our final project, kind of like a Paris through your own eyes thing.
Question: Do you keep a journal? If so, do you censor yourself when you write?
I’m so inconsistent with journals, but after hearing Dr. R talk today, I feel like I’ve been “given permission” in a way to just say whatever I want. She even mentioned she writes grocery lists on some of her entries, tapes certain things that catch her eye on some pages, and just writes whatever she is thinking of at the time.
It’s different with a public blog – it’s not so much a journal. I do try to write in a personal one every so often but always feel like there are so many rules! Ones that I’ve clearly made up for myself. Ones that I’m abolishing as of today
How about my fellow bloggers? Do you keep a personal journal as well as your public blog?
I guess the bottom line is there are no rules. I like that.
A friend and I went to Le Cameleon today, a little restaurant right next to school in lovely Montparnasse. We enjoyed a three course lunch.
Yep, you heard me. Three courses. For lunch. If three courses for lunch is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.
I started with the saumon norvegien, which came swimming in the most glorious pool of butter. No pun intended.
Next up, lightly smoked haddock, also swimming in butter and served up with perfectly seasoned spinach.
My dining companion and fellow food loving friend had a glorious fish en bouillabaisse,
that was served with some kind of amazing mayo based sauce. I tried it. Off of a spoon. Yum.
And the best part of all, the tout noir – three layers of chocolate gorgeousness. Chocolate mousse, chocolate ice cream, topped with chocolate sauce. Chocolate coma, to follow.
Of course, it wouldn’t be lunch in Paris without a glass of wine. Obviously.
Gluttony, I love you.
It was a glorious day, however a bit ironic. I got home to find a question from a reader asking me about my thoughts on the connection between food and yoga, with a link to an article in the New York Times called When Chocolate and Chakras Collide.
I’ve actually read this article before, but never really thought about it until today after my very indulgent lunch experience. The article discusses this new movement of yogis, who happen to be foodies too. There are even yoga studios popping up all over the U.S., much like Ubuntu in Napa, California, that serve up gourmet meals after a sweaty yoga class.
When I went to Jivamukti in New York City this past summer, the cafe at the front of the studio offered fresh, healthy salads, juices and smoothies and I remember loving that community feel that the cafe/yoga studio combination provided. But still, the question remains – Can you really indulge in gourmet food – think chocolate, cheese, wine and chocolate – and still be a “good yogi?”
Although I’m quite certain I won’t be coming out of savasana to a steaming bowl of soup anytime soon, I’m quite comfortable with my love of both yoga and food. As a yogi, foodie, and chef-wanna-be, I can see the connection – the yoga in both cooking fresh, healthy food and spending time on the mat. I often get that same calm, focused feeling I get in my practice when I’m standing over a pot of freshly made soup, getting lost in the rhythmic motion of chopping, stirring, and taking it all in.
One of the criticisms of this yogi/foodie culture is the eating of meat and it’s relationship to ahimsa, or non-violence, the first principle of yoga. This do no harm principle has translated into vegetarian diets for many yogis, despite the fact that many well known and respected yoga teachers (the article mentions Ana Forrest) have admitted to including animal products in their diet.
I’ve tried the vegetarian thing and it just doesn’t make me feel good. In my opinion the first form of non-violence should be towards yourself. Obviously, it’s not going to harm me to not eat meat (or, perhaps, smoked haddock in a pool of melted French butter. Just sayin’) but I enjoy my culinary adventures and tasting a wide variety of foods. I’m not shoveling food into my mouth missing the whole experience, I’m savoring every little moment and am present.
My practice has certainly influenced my food choices. I lean towards healthier foods and many of my meals are light, protein rich and have lots of veggies because it makes me feel good. When I eat healthy, my body feels healthy and strong and that’s how I like to eat most of the time. But I certainly love to indulge every once in a while too. So sue me.
I like what Sadie Nardin, a yoga teacher in New York says in the article: “The culture of judgment in the yoga community — I call it “yogier than thou” — is rampant, and nowhere more than around food.” If vegetarianism works for some, then great. But I think by saying that a yogi isn’t a yogi because they eat meat is kind of defeating the whole purpose, don’t ya think?
Days like today are special. I spent an hour and a half over lunch with a friend, enjoying every bite and giggling with delight We even talked about how nice it is to have someone to share such a beautiful meal with – how not too many people really appreciate food that has been given so much attention and been prepared with thought and passion. Isn’t that the point? We felt so lucky to be able to experience the food, the atmosphere and the company over a nice long lunch.
I’m a yogi. And I happen to love food. Am I perfect? No. But is anyone? Is there really such a thing as a “good yogi?” One who follows all the rules (are there rules?) who does everything the way it should be?
So to all my food-lovin’ yogis out there…what do you think? Can you have both? How has your practice influenced your food choices? How do you feel about eating meat and ahimsa?
I woke up yesterday morning with that dreaded “tickle” in the back of my throat. You know the one – It’s subtle, but it’s never a good sign of good things to come. After cursing the sick people roaming around Paris spreading their germs I headed straight to the kitchen to chug some Vitamin C, make some tea, and say my prayers in hopes of keeping the tickle at just that.
I went to bed super early last night, fingers crossed that I’d wake up without the headache and earache that had slowly been developing over the course of yesterday but alas, I awoke this morning to a pounding headache, itchy eyes, pressure in my ears, and a throat that feels like it’s been massaged with sandpaper. Awesome.
Of course we all want the comforts of home when we aren’t feeling well, and since the comforts of home are several thousand miles away right now for me, I went with the next best thing.
Soup. But not just any soup. This is special soup and deserves a special name. I think I’ll call this “I’m Really Far From Home, Not Feeling Too Well, Want Soup But Am Too Sick To Make Soup” Soup. Kind of has a ring to it, dontchya think?
So. Here’s how you make soup, when you’re too sick to make soup.
First, you find whatever veggies you have in the fridge – I happened to have a little bit of broccoli that needed to be eaten, but any kind of leftover veggies or uncooked veggies you have on hand would work wonderfully. Then, put it in a pot with some pre-prepared soup of your choice. I happened to have a box of pumpkin soup from the supermarket here, but I know at home (and by home I mean in the US) they have tons of boxed soups like butternut squash, roasted bell pepper, yada yada yada. As much as I don’t like pre-packaged stuff like this, I’m willing to suppress my inner food snob and do what’s easiest when I’m under the weather. Know what I mean?
Anyway. I digress. Next step – turn up the heat, and let everything warm up, or in my case let the broccoli cook through. Add in whatever protein you like – I happened to have some rotisserie chicken leftover from last night, but if you have something else leftover or are a veggie, then chickpeas, black beans, etc. would work great too. Let it all come to a simmer and let it do it’s work until it’s heated through. Et voila! Soup!
I’d like you to know that this was my breakfast. Soup. For breakfast. I never said I was normal.
Lean in close and I’ll tell you the secret behind making this soup. The reason making this soup is so simple, is that you aren’t really making it! Et voila!
It was so delicious that I had it again for lunch, but this time with some spinach I got at the market the other day. Same process, just a different veggie. Like so…
Et voila! Soup!
These little bowls of comforting goodness were definitely bright spots in the day. And the best part is that it literally took less than 5 minutes to have a hot bowl of soup in front of me.
It’s no novel idea, but maybe my “soup recipe” will help you when you’re under the weather too and give you the creativity you need to make something healthy and quick when you’re sick. Hey look, I’m a poet and didn’t know it!
Clearly whatever illness I have is making me looney. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgot about all of the questions you asked last week. I had planned to answer all things France today, but am just too darn tired. Please forgive me Stay tuned for all my answers tomorrow.
Do you have a go-to recipe when you’re sick? Any pre-packaged foods that you like to jazz up?
I’m off to cuddle up in bed and attempt some homework. And maybe make another bowl of soup.
