Last night I was missing Paris.
I’m reading The Sun Also Rises which, like most of Hemingway’s early work, revolves around life in Paris in the early 1920’s. As I read about the characters traveling through Montmarte and Montparnasee and the Latin Quarter, my heart began to reminisce the days Bethany and I spent together in Paris two years ago.
Our whirlwind vacation through Europe began with four days in the City of Love, and I’ve longed to go back ever since.
On our trip, I accidentally rented us an apartment in a sketchier block of Monmarte for which Bethany still antagonizes me. When booking the apartment, I envisioned it would be in a building surrounded by bakeries, wine shops, fromageries, and book stores. Now, in my defense, such settings did exist at both subway stops adjacent to ours; however, instead of wine shops and fromageries, we had shady liquor stores and hair salons specializing is multi colored weaves. Amidst the graffiti and garbage on the streets, we didn’t notice the tiny corner bakery across from our building until our last morning in Paris.
All other mornings, we quickly rushed out of our apartment building to the subway station keeping our heads down and our hands on our bags. This morning, however, we decided to take a risk and linger a bit longer in our neighborhood to try out the bakery.
We were not disappointed in our decision. The moment we entered we were greeted by smiling faces and the scent of bread, sugar, and happiness.
After significant pondering, we both decided on sweet brioche rolls covered in chocolate chips. Not wanting to risk our luck any further, we stashed our breakfast in our bags and waited to eat them until we were a safe distance from our subway stop at a sidewalk café near Notre Dame.
We sat together in the crisp spring air eating our brioche and sipping espresso marveling at the fact that we were in Paris.
I’ve been saying for the last two years that I need to try my baking hand at brioche, and Hemingway finally inspired me to take the plunge.
I have an undying trust in Deb Perelman of Smitten Kitchen, and once again, she proved herself faithful in supplying me with recipes to feed my artist’s soul and my voracious appetite.
I won’t try to compete with Deb or my friend Chelsey (whose delightful food blogging can be found at http://girlandapron.com/recipes/) in preparing an actual recipe blog. Instead I’ll settle with sharing stories, pictures, and a hyperlink to this little taste of Paris.