An American in Paris

So here I am at the Moulin for Christmas. We will be heading to Audrey's mother's house for Christmas, but we are having lunch first. Bear in mind that of course all conversation is in French and, while I am getting better all the time, I cannot discuss things at a particularly deep level. Also this is the first Christmas that Papa's boyfriend is a physical entity (me) and I am doing my best to keep up good appearances and not to rock the boat in any way. So, in the middle of the meal Audrey turns to me and, with the family attentatively listening asks, " So, Edward, do you believe in God?" WTF!!  What do I do with that? In the best of times this is a loaded question. Do I say what I really think and discuss the whole religious machine and whereas I may believe there is something out there, I cannot subscribe to adding fuel to that foul machine? In French?? Do I go with an easy yes or no? If so, do I say yes because it may be easy? No because it may be mor...

Here we are, just a few days before Christmas. Most of us have done our shopping and baked the cookies. Perhaps food shopping for the big day is pending but the shopping lists are probably close to complete. I have left Paris for Helmut's family's family manse, the Mill, or l e Moulin as they call it in French. A lovely home with lots of land, a stream and the mechanism of the original mill (the mill stones are long gone, but the family can redirect the water to the mechanism and it actually works!) Of course, they have a real tree. Here, though, no one worries about watering the trees ("Why?" Asked Helmut). I love a real tree even though I never had one until I moved out of the house and into my own apartment. One thing they do have that is very German, but is part of their family's tradition is real candles on the tree. Yep. With actual flames. In my mind it seems like a really bad combo: a live,dry tree with small flames on it. Yes, you watch it, but things ha...

So, I got a lot of interest in the cookie story (go to  Shaving the Yak  to read that post) and wanted to know how they turned out. So, here are some lessons I learned. The Oven Just because you can do mathematical calculations, doesn't mean you can change cooking instructions from fahrenheit to celsius easily. The recipe calls for a 375F oven. So, I pull out my trusty web browser and type "375 fahrenheit to celsius." Trusty Google tells me it is 190.556 celsius. Fair enough. But the oven goes in 25 degree increments. So, my first try is to set the oven to 200 and reduce the cooking time. This one cookie (I am smart enough to try them one at a time) is a charred briquet glued to the cookie sheet. OK, so, I try 175 degrees and keep the cooking time about the same. This time, a brown briquet glued to the cookie sheet. Hrmph. Obviously I need to keep reducing the temperature, but also I need to address the sticking problem. I tried greasing the sheet the way my mother did...

I am not a fan of brunch. It usually seems like a marketing ploy of restaurants or a way to serve food when they would rather be closed. The food is at best mediocre, the service non-existent and people can't seem to get enough, so it is always crowded. So, I was a bit nervous going to La Buvette today. This is a winebar on Rue Saint Maur that is no bigger than some living rooms. The "kitchen" is what they can do behind the bar. I love this place for an aperitif or to buy a bottle of wine. The wine is always interesting and the food bits are always delicious. But brunch? It was one of the smartest, most delicious and memorable meals I have had in a long time. We sat down at a table no bigger than a cutting board (although we had an ample area along the window for drinks and plates). The owner and hostess, Camille, asked us for drinks and explained what was on the menu that day (no choices, you get what they got). On the table was bread, jam and water. As Camille got ...

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I am planning to make chocolate chip cookies for Christmas here in Paris. Very American, chocolatey, how can I go wrong? "And," I think, "I have always made everything from scratch, so I will have no problems getting my ingredients." I even think I have put in some safeguards and bought some items in NYC, just to be sure. Baking soda? Check. Baking powder? check. The oven is celsius, but armed with a browser and Google, I'm good to go, right?Here are the ingredients: flour (all purpose), baking soda, salt, unsalted butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar, corn syrup, egg yolk milk vanilla extract, chocolate chips. My first inkling that things may not be as easy was the chocolate chips. I was planning on buying them, but Helmut told me the chips can easily be found in Paris ("of course they are.") and he was right. BUT... they are tiny. If I used these, they would melt, and would turn the cookie into a chocolate cook...

'Tis the season and Christmas has us by the throat. It is December 15th and I have not begun shopping. That is not as dire as it may sound. I don't have anyone in the states with whom I exchange gifts, so it is just the small group of people here in France. Helmut and I may take a trip together so we have promised no other gifts. That really leaves Helmut's kids (Corto, Ludwig, Anastasia and Stoyan (Anastasia's boyfriend)) and Audrey, the mother. Oh, and then there is the hostess for Christmas... and her mother.... I think I need to get started. Christmas is going to be an odd affair this year. Not only will I be with Helmut and his family, but we will be at Audrey's mother's house. With her not-very-gay-friendly (or so I am told) husband. I do understand that this will be an uneasy Christmas for Helmut's family, maybe more than he does. As you may recall, Helmut "came out" to his children in August, when I had lunch with the "kids" (t...

So, I have returned to Paris. This time feels different, since I took a one-way ticket. New York now recedes into the background and the reality of being in Paris takes on a more concrete form. It all feels a bit more real, a bit more mundane. I continue to work to find my "place" here. I joined a French amateur choir here. For the first time in 20 years, I am singing, which would seem to be fairly important. It hasn't hit me that way yet. We will see, but I am enjoying it. I am looking for work more strenuously. I had a good interview and will have a second interview. I spoke to my financial advisor and if I don't find work, I still should be OK financially. Nice to hear. It does seem a bit more monumental this time, as my home base is now Paris, not NYC. It does put more pressure on me (of course this is just me doing this to myself). Needing to find friends, something to do with my days. Up until now, it did not seem important, but now, it suddenly does. Of cou...

I am back in NYC for about 10 days and it is messing with my brain. It does not feel quite right. Yes, it is familiar; yes, I know where things are and yes, I speak the language. But something is off. It is as if I am in a "Twilight Zone" episode and I am leading two lives. When I am in Paris, I have a lover/partner and have a circle of people I know and contact. I am starting something new and there are new places to explore daily. I have a language to master and the joys/frustrations of creating a new life. New York is part of my past and also a place I can reach out to any time in my head. I am moving ahead with a future. But being back in NYC right now I am questioning if that life exists. Really? Paris? Speaking French every day? New non-English speaking people? I don't know... sounds like a fantasy. And yet, I know it is there, I ping Helmut daily. He is real in both worlds. But the rest? I am not sure. Of course, this NYC life that I am back in isn't quit...