A friend was stuck on the train the other day with a painful dilemma. She had a full bottle of wine and a raging post work thirst, but no corkscrew. What to do?
I immediately thought of this amazing clip of an inebriated Frenchman on the streets of Paris opening a bottle of wine with just a shoe. Not sure how it would have gone down on the train, but incredibly it works, so I thought I’d share it. You never know, it might come in handy in the run up to Christmas.
Vive la France!
My wife came across this amazing set of pictures on Flickr the other day, and I thought they were far too good to keep to ourselves.
The photo set brilliantly captures Parisian nightlife circa 1962 in all it’s soft focus glory, transporting you to another era. One of markets, smokey bars, cafés and restaurants. They are testament to France’s love and respect for all things food, and each one is packed with so much atmosphere.
Just got back from a not long enough weekend in Paris.
My good lady was out there all last week working for ‘the man’ on the auto show, so I Eurostar-ed it over on Friday night to pay her a visit.
As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’m Francophile, and love Paris in particular. Obviously the food is a big part of this for me, but it’s not always the big meals you have that make you realise how much you love a place’s culture. Sometimes it’s the simple things, like the breakfast we had on Saturday morning. We went to a cafe across the road from our hotel and just had coffee and a croissant. But, saying ‘just’ would be doing it a disservice. The croissant was amazing. Fresh as a daisy, light fluffy, and tasted amazing. It really didn’t need any jam or butter. Miles apart from the hard and heavy buggers we get over here.
I was in Paris with the missus for a few days over the New Year period. The weather wasn’t great, but it’s still one of the greatest cities in the World (IMHO). As you might expect the food has a great deal to do with this, and I’m a huge fan of the traditional French bistro.
I love the simple, tasty food, the still tobacco stained walls, the atmosphere and the tradition of it all. Maybe it’s because we don’t have many good examples of this type of place in London, but I’d honestly prefer to sit down at a chequered tablecloth in a back street bistro to a plate of oeufs cocotte and an entrecote, than some foam drenched nonsense from an Alain Ducasse restaurant. No offense Al.
Happy New Year from Hand To Mouth. Hope you all had a good one.
I had the good fortune to be in Cornwall for Christmas, and then Paris for New Years. Good food was eaten accross the festive period, more on this in subsequent posts, but first of all something for the bread geeks out there.
Whilst in Paris I made a pilgrimage to Poilâne. It may not be a familiar name, but if you love good bread it should be. It’s a bakery in Saint-Germain, and makes the most insanely tasty ‘miche’ or traditional French sourdough loaves. Set up by Pierre Poilâne, a young baker from Normandy in 1932, the shop has been knocking out these beautiful large round loaves ever since to Parisians hungry for something a bit more interesting than the regular baguette.
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