Just last month I wrote about my Dad and how very, very fortunate I am to have a father like him. An amazingly kind, gentle man.

My Dad did not got to a famous university. He had to work. And work he did, doing everything he could to provide the best possible education for his children so that they could do what ever they chose to do in life. From my earliest childhood memories, I remember him teaching me the importance of a good education. I remember being about five and throwing a Dr Seuss book across my room in a nasty snit. My Dad made me pick up the book and apologize to it before I put it back in my bookshelf. Books were knowledge and you absolutely must respect knowledge.

When I was a little girl, my Dad would take out the painted white baseboards in our houses and put in beautiful oak ones he had prepared. He made our coffee table and he made my mother the most elegant jewelery box that I still use every day.

He would spend entire weekends making pickles and canning spaghetti sauces, teaching the importance of natural, whole foods that are not loaded with preservatives.

When he wasn’t working, or in his shop, he’d be out in his garden, sometimes forcing us to join him in pruning, clipping, weeding, mowing. He has finally retired, but he still gardens, growing beautiful flowers and wonderful fruits and vegetables to enjoy.

When my girls were newly born he went out of his way to bring me cases of strawberries and dungeness crab salad from Swann’s in San Francisco.

When he started to travel, he tried to learn French. He mastered ordering frites like a pro but he created quite the stir one evening when he ordered his steak bien cul, instead of bien cuit (he wanted his meat well done, but asked for it to be Good Ass)!

Today is my Dad’s 70th birthday…..

HAPPY

BIRTHDAY

DAD

and a very joyeux anniversaire.

The girls and I adore you and love you very much.

Sorry folks, but I am on the rode today, so no Flore for me (or you…)
Here is a rerun of my most popular Friday@Flore to date. Enjoy, and see you Monday for up to the minute content…

http://findingnoon.com/?p=351

Have a great weekend!!!!

HAPPY BASTILLE DAY !!!

I used to have my very own, sexy little dutch bike, with its seductive swan body and charming market basket, but vandalism, after vandalism, caused me to give it a ditch, and now I go public all the way; metro, bus or Velib’ for me, folks.

But last week I had access to a car. A vehicle just as seductive as my beloved bike; it was topless. As luck would have it, the sun broke through and I had an airport run. I was behind the wheel before you could say, 1964 and 1/2, cherry red, Mustang convertible (that was not what I would be driving, but it is my dream car).

Going through the city, up the Champs Elysées with my daughter riding shot gun, was a thrill. We felt oh-so-very Parisienne. And then we got to the Etoile.

“Here’s some chewing gum, Mom.”

“How did you know I’d be wanting chewing gum right now? I never chew gum.”

“Because you’re nervous. You shouldn’t be though, 1000s of people drive around the Arc de Triomphe everyday. Some of them aren’t even very smart. You can do this.”

And do it we did. Up the avenue to the péripherique, where things were bottle necked and we spent an hour and a half for the 40 minute ride to Charles de Gaulle. And that’s why I love the RER.

That night, I met up with the Yoga Yenta; two (momentarily) single girls out on the town, the top down, the music cranked up. And while I’ll still never have a car in Paris, we had an absolute blast driving by the Eiffiel Tower, past the Shangri la, oh la, la! This city can be breathtakingly beautiful at night. We stopped and got out for a bit under the column at the Place Vendôme, and took a good long look. YY started noticing all the ornate detail in the sculpture for the very first time, reminding us how great it is to see the city from a new angle every now and again. Next week, we’re thinking skateboards….

I am trying to shed a few, so naturally I am obsessed with food. Don’t you just love the way the mind works? My latest obsessions revolves around a new-to-me Japanese restaurant I recently “discovered” in our very own neighborhood.

I first saw their card in a local depôt-vente owned by a really lovely Japanese couple. My curiousity was officially piqued, but I was too shy to ask for the card, so I knew the name, but had no idea where it was. A few days later I was jogging towards the Tuilleries and I spotted the logo (ex-graphic designer claims occupational hazard). I even slowed down to read the menu.

A bento lunch and lots of original options. Nothing looked too touristy, although I was a bit worried that they offered such a diverse selection of specialties. I am the kind of diner that goes to one place for ramen, another for soba and is nearly fanatic about the udon joint on the rue Ste Anne (Kunitorya). When it comes to Japanese cuisine, I like specialists.

A week later Mr French and I were there for lunch and it was fan-tabulous!!! I went for a crab salad that was rolled into a vegetable skin and had flavours that truly zinged. My grilled salmon with a miso sauce was just as tasty and I still remember the refreshing zest of the yuzu flavoured jello the chef offered at the end of the meal. I couldn’t to go back.

As luck would have it, we were free for dinner just five nights later. We arrived, but for some reason the menu seemed much less exciting for dinner. And more expensive. Then the waiter came over with a black board listed about a dozen tapas style dishes for 14-18€. We ordered white asparagus tempura, clams that tasted like the ocean steamed with algae, tofu and mushrooms in an exuberant miso broth, grilled sardines and an indescribable dish of razor clams. Everything was delicious, and beautiful and cooked to perfection. There was a perfectly balanced miso soup to start the meal and for dessert I had a sake-infused jello.

The restaurant strikes the perfect balance between sophisticated cuisine and a relaxed comfortable ambiance. I’ll be back. Often.

We'll soon be seeing the sea...

It is swimsuit season, but you’d never know it to look out the window these days. Even when its hot, the skies are grey and menacing. Which means the summer holidays have kind of snuck up on me and, well, according to the doctor I saw for my annual check-up last week, I’d be happier if I shed 4 kilos. 4 kilos. Doesn’t sound too bad until you convert into pounds, which is 8.8 pounds, which is frighteningly close to ten. And all this just 2 weeks before we leave on holidays. To the beach. A French beach, where women of a certain age, in fact women of all ages wear bikinis. Lord help me, I need a drink.

But NON! Because that is the first thing I am meant to do. Stop consuming alcohol. Which is not terrific timing given the grey, cloudy weather we’ve been having.  This weekend the bookies were taking bets… friends, family and the guy who runs the superette were all betting against me.  Well HA to them, because I didn’t so much as take a single sip of the evil brew and I immediately shed 600 grams as my just (and calorie-free) desserts.

All those kilos and pounds make for some interesting cultural differences when dieting. Well, not so much cultural, as just plain math. When a Parisenne gains 100 grams, she takes notice. 200 grams and the red flags start going off. It is time to skip a meal and back on track. Try that with an American scale. I don’t think I’ve ever even read 3,5 ounces on a US scale. By the time I reach 200 grams (7ounces) I am completely clueless. Yes, my jeans feel slightly tighter, but that is just because they were accidentally thrown into the drier, non? With pounds, it takes much longer to realize one has put any weight on, and instead of loosing six HUNDRED grams, I lost a pound. One measly little pound. Not very encouraging, so I’m keeping to the metric system.

Besides forsaking all things alcohol, the doctor gave me a list with 20 do’s and dont’s. The basics, really; light dinners, avoid starches, especially at night (did I mention non booze?), smaller portions and no dessert. Oops. that is not right, we’re in Paris. They can forbid baguettes after sunset, but desserts are part of a balanced diet. They recommend sticking to fruits or dairy products. I think they say one OR the other because they know we’d all be dipping our strawberries in crème fraîche if they hadn’t made it clear that that was a non. But I am ignoring them and will be allowing myself 4 tiny squares of some extraordinary chocolate bar every day.

keep your brie, I want a real dessert, diet be damned!!!

Another non is mixing meats and cheeses. Steaks are in, Philly steaks are out. However, they are probably referring to the incredibly odd (to this sweet tooth) habit the French have of considering cheeses to be a dessert course. No camembert for you missie, unless you go veg with the main course.

Today was the true test; working from home with a kitchen within easy range as moments of boredom or fatigue sweep in and give me the munchies. So far, so good.