I’m Eeeeeeating, On a Jet Plane…


I first flew to Paris on TWA flight 800, which some of you will remember had been thoughtfully renumbered sometime after it went into the sea off Long Island. I was traveling on Famous Designer‘s dime to Semaine du Cuir – the leather and suede exhibition where I was to meet vendors I’d known only via phone and fax (hi, I’m old), and hopefully pick up some new sources.

Before I left, I asked the designers for direction in choosing samples to bring back from the show. I will never forget their responses:

  • “I’m thinking…sherbet.”
  • “Bring me back beautiful things.”
  • “I love horsey leathers.”
  • “I want the Marc Jacobs jacket that’s at Barney’s.”

Fashion people aren’t like you and me.

But I digress. Continue reading


Cal Had Fun In Toulouse!

Cal is a huge Watchmen fan – from way back. So, you can see how the last month of my life has been nothing but all Watchmen, all the time: Trailers, sneak peeks and, being the awesome girlfriend I am, a full reading of a scanned copy of all 12 issues.

So, when it came time for the opening of the movie, he was very excited to see it. But, it was not playing at the “VOST” (Version original, sub-titled) theater here in Montpellier. Thus, the Great Movie Search 2009 began.
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Picture Post: Ladies Lunch in the South of France

A couple of weeks ago, Sheila, Fi and I decided to throw caution, obligations and their kids to the wind and have lunch together on a Tuesday afternoon.  We had a delightful meal at a tiny restaurant called La Grange, just behind the Palais du Justice. It was a quirky little place run by a husband and wife, with her cooking and him hosting. Every time he brought a plate out, he would say, “La fameuse…” and name the dish.  I loved every moment of it.

La Grange
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Love Letter To A Basil Plant

Dear Basil Plant,

After many months of fruitless searching and unsatisfying meals, I have found you and brought you into my home, where I promise to care for you and treat you with the respect and admiration you so rightly deserve.

We have much in common, Basil Plant. Like you, I find myself much more at home in Italy than in France. Like you, I feel a special kinship with the delights of Italian cuisine. And, like you, I make the most out of even the simplest of meals using only the freshest ingredients.
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Beijing Olympics: “Tastes Like Chicken”

I love languages, and I love food. When the two come together – especially with hilarious results – the world needs to know about it. Thus, this Reuter’s article is the subject of my post today.

It seems someone has brought to Beijing‘s attention that within just a few weeks, the masses will descend on their fair city – and they’re going to want to eat something. More specifically, something they can understand. Thus, the government has made available to all restaurants, an English translation service for a wide variety of popular dishes.

And now, for your culinary and linguistic pleasure, tonight’s specials, old and new:

Husband and wife’s lung slice
Beef and ox tripe in chili sauce

Bean curd made by a pock-marked woman
Mapo tofu

Chicken without sexual life
Steamed pullet

Bon apetit!

(Yes, those are the real translations.  No one is that creative at 8.30 in the morning.)