December 2024 Newsletter

Stories about Paris, links I like, favorite addresses, and more!

There’s a lot to say about the past year, but I’ve been keeping my head down and working on my own projects…and hoping for the best as we round the corner to 2025. I retreated into my work for the last few weeks, which involved finishing photos for a future book, keeping things up to date here in the newsletter, as well as trying to figure out social media. Is it just me, or has much of it shifted from us sharing stuff we like, to a keep-on-scrolling and tapping scrum?

I signed up for Bluesky, but to be honest, I think I prefer to say everything I want to say here rather than on someone else’s platform. I remember when Facebook and Twitter started, how exciting it was to communicate with friends and network with others. Now my Facebook timeline is filled with AI pictures of Paris, and Twitter…well, it’s X now.

Heading into December, farmers in France have been hitting the streets and the highways, upset about foreign imports coming in and undercutting them with lower prices. (There may be disruptions on December 9 and 10th, so if you’re traveling on one of those dates, best to remain flexible with your plans.) Farmers have been spraying municipal buildings in France with dirt and reversing signs for towns or villages so they’re upside down or, in some cases, tossing them over fences:

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What’s interesting is that the new rules allowing more imports from South America are coming from the European Union, not France, and the president of France has stated that he is also against them. But there are a lot of rules in France about growing food, which means extra red tape and paperwork for farmers.

On the other hand, people are concerned about rising food prices, so I’m not sure what the solution is. I’m no economist; my job is to make brownies. The goal seems to be: How to make good, healthy food accessible to people at affordable prices, while paying and properly compensating the people who grow it for their efforts.

I now buy almost of my produce from shops that sell fruits and vegetables culled from small producers, such as Terroirs d’Avenir, Miyam, Roots, and Pari Local. Their prices are a little higher than supermarkets and the outdoor markets (where most of the produce comes from the Rungis wholesale market, outside of Paris), but the produce is a lot better, and it’s nice to support smaller shops, even if they charge a bit more. For example, pears at the produce shops I go to are around €5,50 per kilo, or $2.80 per pound, versus at the supermarché, where they’re €3,95 per kilo, or $2 per pound. But to those on tight budgets, 80¢ makes a difference.

Since I dress like a slob most of the time (well, when I’m at home…) and Romain cuts my hair, I use that money to buy local strawberries in the summer and légumes oubliée (forgotten vegetables) in the winter, ones that may be a little dirty and misshapen, such as parsnips and rutabagas, but that doesn’t bother me. I shop for flavor. It’ll be interesting to see how the talks play out. I think we all want to see farmers succeed and thrive. We need them.

It’s hot chocolate season in Paris. This one, at Le Café Alain Ducasse, is made with bean-to-bar chocolate, roasted just a block away. (My recipe is here.) If you stop by, just next door is AXS vintage design.

A lot of people come to Paris and are on the lookout for The Best, and people often ask me everything, from how to find the best croissant to the “best” baguette. But if you spend a minute in any bakery in Paris, and watch people order baguettes, every single person will ask for theirs baked as they prefer, from pas trop cuite (not too cooked, with a soft crust) to bien cuite, well-baked and crunchy.

For the record, I usually get baguettes from Maison Landemain, Terroirs d’Avenir, The French Bastards, Pépite, and Graine, and I like the sesame-curry baguette at Utopie, even though their standard baguette took the top prize as the best baguette in Paris in this year’s competition. No matter where I am, I always skip the baguettes ordinaires (white flour baguettes made with yeast) and choose a baguette tradition or baguette campagne, which are heartier (made with natural starter), hand-shaped, and often available with grains in them.

Can’t get in to Mokonuts? (Or do you just want something more casual, including Sunday brunch or a tea salon?) They’ve opened a new café just down the street, Mokochaya, where I had this tasty chicken curry and vegetable salad. (No reservations!)

Speaking of bests, when my photo team was here, someone asked me about the jambon-beurre (ham and butter) sandwich at the bakery of a well-known ritzy hotel, which sells for €15. It’s made with puff pastry, rather than bread. I haven’t tried it, but the excellent sandwich at Caractère de Cochon is still at the top of my list for sandwiches in Paris, whose price has risen to around €12, but is packed with ham (most bakeries just slip a slice or two in there) and is absolutely delicious..

Jambon-beurre-fromage sandwich, from Le Petit Vendôme

On one of the final days of shooting, one of the stylists working on the book headed over to Le Petit Vendôme, on my recommendation, and brought a jambon-beurre (and fromage) sandwich back for each of us. They’re so good that even Lady Gaga stopped in on her way to the airport after singing at the Olympic opening ceremonies, to grab one before leaving town. I can’t decide if I need to try the puff pastry one at the Ritz. Something about it sounds as if it might not work, although puff pastry is often paired with savory foods, so maybe it’s not such a far-fetched idea after all. Would you try it?

I know I should take one for the team and grab one, although I’m saving my centimes for a real haircut and perhaps a pair of pants that don’t have an elastic waist. Oh, and there’s then also the €30 jambon-beurre with truffles that people are lining up for at Cédric Grolet. But maybe I’ll save that one for when I can get the photo team to come back, and make sure those are included in the photo budget.

Speaking of photo teams, I loved having a duo of world-class food stylists in my apartment last month, who kindly stocked me up with the best gifts a home baker could ask for:

My haul included 2 half-sheet baking pans (French baking pans are smaller, for smaller ovens, and I have a full-size oven), a stack of 200 sheets of pre-cut parchment baking paper (for those half-sheet pans), and tins of natural cocoa powder. We get great cocoa powder in Europe, but it’s Dutch-process, which can behave differently, so it’s nice to test recipes with both, for your baking pleasure and for best results.

There were boxes of zip-top bags (don’t worry — I reuse them a gazillion times), extra-wide heavy-duty Reynolds Wrap, two rolls of Stretch-Tite, maple sugar candies from Vermont, American bean-to-bar chocolates from Taza, Dandelion, Woodblock, Guittard, and Dick Taylor, Graham crackers, Lazzaroni amaretti cookies (for some reason, you can’t get this brand of Italian cookies here in Paris, even though Italy is next door), black cocoa powder (to make these brownies), and a can of professional non-stick spray, which you may wrinkle your nose up at, but, well…it is what it is. And how can you resist the allure of a product called Bak-klene ZT?

Contrary to popular belief, food stylists don’t put marbles in soup or make fake ice cream from Crisco. I did, however, find this “cheat” in the baking aisle of my local supermarché, a crème chantilly/whipped cream stabilizer that I got for them as a parting gift.

When they left, however, I noticed they took the Dandelion chocolate bars back to the States with them. I don’t blame them — I wouldn’t leave them behind either. But don’t worry about me. They didn’t take the French chocolates I amassed while they were here, back to the States, which I initially felt bad about — until I noticed the missing Dandelion bars. So I guess we’re even.

Now that we’re into December, the days are getting even shorter in Paris. Last week we had a snowstorm. Flights and trains were canceled since they’re not accustomed to snow here. (People from Boston or Chicago often get a kick out of how a 1/4 inch/6mm of snow can ground flights.) It didn’t freak me out, and I took a walk in it, letting the delicate flakes land on me. I like the calm of snow. It quiets things down, and the flakes brighten things up, making the cold bearable.

Here’s hoping you all have a calm, yet bright(er) December. I’m the kind of person who has a hard time getting away, but we’re taking a few days to head to the south to be near the ocean, eat oysters, and read. I’m still trying to do what in French would be called être — to just be and avoid doing anything else. Even after all these years, I’m not quite there yet. But I’m trying.

-David

Links I’m Liking

-Major changes to the Paris transit system for locals and visitors coming in January. (Secrets of Paris)

-A Bay Area couple finds moving to — and living in — France not as easy as they thought it’d be.* (CNN)

-You might be storing cheese all wrong. (NYT Cooking/possible paywall)

-Yes, a non-alcoholic Martini is possible. (Taste)

-Lindt admits its chocolate isn’t “expertly crafted with the finest ingredients.” (Fortune)

-Restaurants in Paris getting hit (again) by thieves stealing wine… (MSN)

-…and someone swipes 24,240 bottles of tequila from Guy Fieri. (USA Today)

-Racing mind making it hard to sleep? Readers mentioned two podcasts, Nothing Much Happens and Sleep with Me, the first being sleep stories, and the latter is a fellow who has the remarkable ability to talk about n’importe quoi (nothing), while simultaneously being interesting and boring. Bonne nuit! 😴😴

-The Bonne Maman jam-packed advent calendar has become a “hot commodity.” (NYT/article unlocked)

-Starting in January, visitors to the UK will need to apply for electronic travel authorization* before entering. (Washington Post/article unlocked)

[*It’s similar to ESTA, which foreign visitors to the U.S. have had to apply for, in order to travel there, which began in 2008. Europe is also adopting a similar program, ETAIS, sometime in 2025.]

-Lost in transit? Unclaimed Baggage website is filled with things that travelers lost, from gold watches and Hermès belts, to pajamas and power tools. (Unclaimed Baggage)

Photo by Blake Wisz on Unsplash

The Point of Sale Machine

The “point of sale” (POS) machine has arrived in Paris. For a long time, we’ve had credit card machines that the servers bring to your table when it’s time to pay the check, which they process tableside, unlike in the States where someone whisks your card away and swipes it (and in some cases, swipes your number). But now there’s a new generation of POS machines in France that have buttons for leaving a tip.

And…it’s confusing.

While it’s customary in the U.S. to leave a tip (a custom that came to the U.S. from Europe), in France, service is included and any extra you’d like to leave, called a pourboire, is optional. If you want to leave a pourboire, most people either round up the bill or leave 5% to 10% in coins or bills, but only if you were happy and/or the server did a good job. Generally, one wouldn’t leave more than €20, which would be considered generous.

But will that change?

The new generation of credit card machines ask what percentage of tip you’d like to leave. When I first saw the machines, a year or so ago, when handing me the machine, the waiter would tell me that I didn’t need to leave a tip. Now that the machines have become more common, I rarely hear anyone saying that you don’t need to leave a tip anymore.

I’ve been handed machines that “suggest” that I add a 20% tip. No one in France would leave €40 on a €200 check. It’s not because they’re cheap, it’s because waiters don’t make less than minimum wage, as they do in some U.S. states, where they depend on tips to make a living.

Personally, I’m happy to live somewhere where the street cleaners, supermarket clerks, housecleaners, painters, and trash collectors get the same benefits as everybody else. There are inequalities, and Paris isn’t an inexpensive city to live in, but everyone is entitled to a baseline of care, and salaried workers get paid vacation and health insurance, provided by their employers. (Self-employed people don’t and have to pay the charges themselves, which are about 25% of one’s income.)

So what to do if you’re visiting Paris, dining in a restaurant, and they hand you a machine with a suggested tip when it’s time to pay? First of, relax. I remember fretting to a neighbor about what kind of tip to leave, when I used to get my haircut down the street from us, and he said, “Don’t worry about it so much. This isn’t America.”

You’re welcome to leave a tip if you’re satisfied, which is appreciated but not required. No one will run after you down the street if you don’t leave anything, nor should you feel bad leaving 5% (or 10%), even if you live somewhere where 20% is expected. It’s fine to leave 5% to 10%, the latter being on the high side. If they’ve done a good job and you’ve had a nice time, feel free to show your appreciation with whatever makes you comfortable.

But I do wonder about what’s going to happen in the future in France, if leaving a tip will go from being optional to being expected. I’m interested in what you think…

Things I Like

When friends come to visit, I’ll sometimes ask them to bring me things that you can’t get here. And one thing I always insist on doing is paying them back. They invariably wave payment away, but I want them to keep bringing me things (and not think of me as a freeloader), so I insist.

So when a friend came bearing some necessities, she also brought me a jar of Fix & Fogg Everything Butter. I have cupboards of condiments and spreads that I’ve been given over the years, which are on my docket to try — from smoked preserved cherries to jars of premixed baking spice mixtures, which are a nice idea, but I can’t use them in recipes that I share because I’m sure exactly no one would appreciate a recipe that calls for 1 teaspoon of a baking spice mixture they had to order by mail. But it’s the thought that counts.

While I sometimes request crunchy organic peanut butter, someone came up with something better. This magical mélange of peanuts, almonds, hemp, pumpkin, flax, and sunflower seeds, comes together in this spread that has little crunchy, crackly bits of nuts and seeds, some roasty and others a bit smoky. There’s a lot going on in every swipe, and I ate almost half of the jar right after I dug into it.

Yikes…

For better or worse (the latter because I would eat a lot of it…), I haven’t found it available in France. Yes, there are some places that ship, but those pesky shipping, taxes, and customs charges really jack up the price. The company’s website only ships to New Zealand. But I see that it’s available in the U.S. and other countries. So while many people are contemplating moving to France, if you do, please bring a few jars. Otherwise, get one for yourself. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

In Memoriam

Paris lost a member of its cocktail community, Forest Collins of 52 Martinis, who passed away this week. Forest was a pioneer and “owned” the Paris cocktail scene, chronicling the fast-moving world of bars in Paris, getting to know all the bartenders and spirit-makers, writing about them on her blog, and featuring them on her podcast. (She was a guest on my podcast, which you can listen to here.) Forest also wrote a field guide to Paris cocktail bars and created a free app for readers to find her favorite addresses for drinking.

Forest helped me when I was writing Drinking French. I’d asked her to assist me with listing places where people could find cocktail paraphernalia and French spirits in Paris, as she knew them all. We had a great time and Forest (as she always did with everybody…) was happy to share her knowledge with me, and my readers.

She’d recently gotten her French citizenship and while she lived on the opposite end of the city, we kept in touch and kept promising to meet up for drinks. But as so often happens these days, things get in the way, and she and her partner often retreated to their house in the countryside. We kept postponing, and it was sad to hear of her passing; my thoughts are with her family, and she’ll be missed by fans and friends, too.

*There’s a lot to say about this article, and some people have replied rather tartly to it. But there’s some truth to what the couple says. France, and French people, can be a challenge and friendships don’t come easy here, especially if you don’t speak French. While you’ll come across quite a few people who do speak English, you’ll have a much more authentic experience if you can converse in French.

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And yes, the food can be quite rich, which they pointed out, but no one I know eats “…brie, pâté, pastries and French bread all day long.” When I have houseguests they love coming back from the bakery in the morning with bags of croissants and pastries to share with us, but most mornings its toast with butter and jam or honey, coffee, and a bowl of fresh fruit mid-morning.

The bureaucracy is, indeed very (very) burdensome, especially if you’re not used to it. It drives native French people crazy too. They’re just used to it and it’s just something you need to constantly tackle if you live here. A newsletter from a relocation specialist recently wrote:

Many Americans in France have a hard time accepting the changes they need to make in how they live to adapt to life here. Regardless of how many books, movies, and documentaries people aspiring to move to France, Americans never really register deep down how different French life is!

Living abroad isn’t for everyone, which the couple in the article admitted. Change is hard, and it’s easy to imagine life is going to be better elsewhere, which it certainly can be. I arrived with a suitcase, with some similar sentiments, and had to adjust. France is an amazing country, but it comes with its own unique set of rules and codes which you to adapt to, if you plan to stay.