Abaluche in Bordeaux: Pilgrimage to Haut-Brion

Souvenirs

As a wine lover and pupil, there are certain places that are mythical, and only exist in the fairy-tale stories of the beginnings of this industry.  Many of these locations are within France, and more still within the protected appellations of Bordeaux.  There are more than 10,000 châteaux in Bordeaux producing AOC/AOP quality wines, and at over 300,000 vineyard acres, it also qualifies as France's largest wine-growing region.  With a history dating back to the 6th century (and possibly even the 4th century in the right bank appellation of St. Emilion), to taste the wines of Bordeaux is certainly like tasting history.  And quite a daunting thought as to where on earth to begin.

So it was appropriate that my first visit in Bordeaux was to the region of Pessac-Léognan in Graves, directly west of the town of Bordeaux (where I was lucky enough to have a base camp), and to the highly celebrated and historic châteaux of Haut-Brion and La Mission Haut-Brion.  In fact, Haut-Brion, or 'Ho-Bryan', was the first mention of a brand-name château, as recorded in 1663 by Samuel Pepys at the Royal Oak Tavern in London (also proving that the wines of the Graves region were celebrated much earlier than the wines of their disease-laden swampy neighbor to the north, the Médoc, which were not fit for production or exportation until the 18th century).  Perhaps this is why Château Haut-Brion is the only château in Graves that was included in the 1855 Classification of Bordeaux.

The vines of Château Haut-Brion

Although founded as two separate properties, Haut-Brion in 1525 and La Mission Haut-Brion in the 18th century, today they are owned and operated by the same family, and employ the same team and techniques in both cellars.  It was the famous American financier, Clarence Dillon, who purchased Château Haut-Brion in 1935, and in 1983 his grand-daughter, Madame la Duchesse de Mouchy (Joan Dillon) purchased La Mission Haut-Brion from the Woltner heirs.   Only the soil, separated by Avenue Jean Juarès in the commune of Pessac, makes the difference in the wines.

View of Haut-Brion from La Mission H-B

Upon my visit, Château Haut-Brion was undergoing a lengthy two-year renovation, and so I had the pleasure of conducting my tasting at La Mission, which had just completed it's two-year renovation the summer prior.  "We'll start the tour in the chapel" the guide had advised me.  What a perfect place to begin the historic and sacred education of this revered beverage in France.  While sitting politely in the wooden pew, gazing with deference at the many stained-glass windows lining the tiny chapel and listening to the story of how the Mission was started in the 17th century by the followers of Saint-Vincent de Paul, and later was bequeathed to the Pères Lazaristes, I at once saw clearly the connection of wine and religion that are such cornerstones of French culture.

The consecrated chapel of Ch. La Mission Haut-Brion

Out in the vineyards, the soil is a mixture of large-caliber gravel, sand and light clay, together referred to as boulbenes.  There are 25 hectares of vines for La Mission Haut-Brion, and 50 hectares for Haut-Brion.  Majority is planted to Cabernet Sauvignon (as dictated by the terroir and the AOC/AOP system), followed by Merlot and Cabernet Franc.  On this day, 19th December, they were assembling the final 2011 blend of both La Mission and Haut-Brion in the large inox cuves in the cellar room, and then putting the final blend into barrel for aging.  Racking in barrique occurs every 3 months, in primarily Seguin Moreau oak.  And then, there was the tasting.

07 Ch. La Mission Haut-Brion and 07 Ch. Haut-Brion

Alone with the guide from the domaine, she led me to an oak-paneled room rich with velvet draperies and tapestries, and a delicately inlaid parquet floor.  The early-afternoon white winter light spilled in to highlight additional carved oak chairs and a grand fireplace and mantle.  A polished carved wooden table stood waiting with two glasses and two half bottles:  Château La Mission Haut-Brion 2007 and Château Haut-Brion 2007.  It was seriously like going to the Communion Altar.  My kind of church!

The Altar

The La Mission started young with tightly wound tannins, but with a soft fruity feminine nose that opened into an exciting winter spice and chocolate palate.  Rose petals and cherry wood developed in time and the finish long, silky elegant.  48% Cabernet Sauvignon, 43% Merlot, 9% Cabernet Franc.  The Haut-Brion was, of course, a stunner.  I wrote "chilling".  That is just how it should be for a Premier Cru Classé.  Chilling.  More masculine and much tighter than the La Mission (given that 2007 was an excellent, 'classic' year in Bordeaux), the blend was of 44% Cabernet Sauvignon, 43% Merlot, 13% Cabernet Franc.  But oh, the complexity.  It went though about 5 different lives in my glass over 15 minutes; starting big and manly with leather, spice and tobacco.  Then softening into some deep red and purple fruits, with hints of dusky rose petals.  Then the minerality, with the white quartz and bits of clay-like chewiness showing through.  And the silky tannins seamlessly integrating with the timeless elegance of a finish.  It was like drinking in a bespoke men's clothier shop, with rich leather armchairs in the corner and a wall of mysteriously dark silk ties mingling with hand-tailored pinstripe suits.  I imagined it to be a shop somewhere on Jermyn Street in London.

2011 La Mission Haut-Brion

After just this one experience, it's easy to see that wine is a religion here, from a reverence to the soil and the respect of the terroir, to the instillation of wine at celebrations, dinner tables, ceremonies and religious rites.  It is as much a part of the soul of a Frenchman as the bread and hard work that he toils at each day.  And the history!  I immediately wanted to return to my European History text book and re-read all the stories of wars, kings and conquests that shaped the France of today, stories that I had surely forgotten most likely one month after reading them in 1992.

Ch. La Mission Haut-Brion, newly renovated

Nonethelesss, the history does exist today at La Mission Haut-Brion, and just walking upon the sacred grounds, taking in the 15th century limestone buildings, feeling the smooth stones from the vineyard in the palm of my hand, and breathing in the newly filled oak barrels the renovated chai (where I expected the sound of chanting monks to escape from behind the impressive stone pillars) was a clear indication of this.  And if that won't convert you, the wine most certainly will.

The chai at Ch. La Mission Haut-Brion

Wintery cabernet vines at La Mission Haut-Brion

A la prochaine.....

A bientôt!

The City of Holiday Light

Joyeux Noël à Paris!

Parisian Tree Farm

Daily temperatures below 10°C, gray skies with bits of cold raindrops spluttering down, blasts of icy winds attacking you down every avenue you turn; yup, it's wintertime in the northern continental region of France.  But luckily, being in Paris, that also means the arrival of buckets of Holiday Cheer, and thousands of sparkling lights, marchés de Noël  and holiday window displays to warm your soul.

In fact, there are over 130 quartiers  draped with holiday lights; 12 marchés de Noël set up around the city, 5 patinoires or ice skating rinks set up from la Tour Eiffel to the l'hôtel de Ville (hoping to check those out tout suite!), 3 grands magasins with elaborately themed windows, and one grand boulevard, considered by some to be 'The Most Beautiful Boulevard in the World', festively decked out, leading to the most spectacular display of lights this time of year in Paris.

Wouldn't you like do do some holiday shopping with me here?

Rue Saint Honoré

And the other week, Audrey Tautou made it official.  The actress and 'ambassadrice de l'élégance' of Paris presided over the annual lighting of the Champs Elysées and with a flip of her finger, the entire boulevard was illuminated with thousands of twinkling lights from Arc de Triomphe to Place de la Concorde: neon blue and pink Jetson-esque rings adorning every Plane tree on the Grand Boulevard, snowscapes draped over every fountain, and the grand finale at the end of the boulevard at Concorde, La Grande Roue of Paris.  It's truly a beautiful time to be in the city, gray and raining or not. 

It never gets old.

The last time I was in the city for the holidays, it was for the grand New Years 2000 celebration with my sister.  It was that night that le Tour Eiffel was illuminated for the first time with thousands of LED lights.  Some Parisians detest the sight, but I adore it.  Watching the tower sparkle like a thousand Swarovski crystals filled me with a sense of magic that only Paris can posses.  Even now,  when I see it glittering across the Seine it reminds me of that truly spectacular New Years Eve where we drank Champagne at the foot of the sparkling tower with a group of crazy Italians then partied on the fantastically dream-like stage of the Champs Elysées until dawn.  The Parisians certainly know how to celebrate the holidays, and so this time of year is fantastically magical.

Montmartre

The marchés du Noël are especially charming, like little county fairs that pop up along the narrow streets of the quartiers and in the taxi drop-off zones of train stations.  At Gare de l'Est, the theme of the market is Alsatian gastronomy, as this is the station that serves the Alsatian region of France and cities such as Strasbourg and Vienna.  Alsatian wine, foie gras, pain d'épice, Stöllen and the cured meats and sausages of the border towns are available for tasting and purchase.  Up on Montmartre, it's a more traditional Christmas market, serving vin chaud and chocolat l'ancienne (with Chantilly) at the foot of Sacre Coeur, face painting, handmade crafts, carnival rides for the kiddies and an appearance of Père Noël himself.  

So an organ grinder and a face painter
walk into a bar...

Alsatian delicacies at the Gare du l'Est

I spy Pére Noël!

Vin chaud et chocolat a l'ancienne (from gorgeous copper pots) for everyone!  Outside Sacre Coeur, Montmartre

Down on the Champs Elysées, the largest with 170 decorated chalets and welcoming over 12 million visitors throughout the season, they have even brought in a zoo to add to the other staples of petit trains, toboggans, barbe à papa (cotton candy) and beignet stands, roasted chestnut vendors, knitted goods and French gastronomic delicacies.  And of course, there's the Grande Roue.  10€ for the trip, but I can imagine the views of the whole of Paris are astounding and quite worth the price of admission. I hope to experience it at least once this season....

Decked Out

Place du Tertre, Montmartre  

And from that height, there's no doubt you will be able to see the glittering lights of the Galleries Layfayette, Printemps and Au Bon Marche, beacons of light calling all the little shopping moths to their holiday windows and into their stores.  But make no mistake: the most enjoyable, completely free evening I spent in Paris recently was to walk south from the 18éme through the various decorated quartiers of Montmartre to the 9émé, where the Grands Boulevards of Haussmann, LaFayette and Capucines all meet at the Opéra Garnier, and where you can find the grands magasins of Galleries Layfayette and Printemps, both with outstanding window displays.

Rollin to the gig

Galleries LaFayette's theme of "Un Noël Rock-N-Roll!" features the amazing Andrew Yang couture rag dolls, 'The Kouklitas' going on tour in Europe as the rock band, 'The K-Stars'.  Mobilized by marionette strings, the dolls - and these amazing little pieces of fashion design - come to life.  These dolls, quite limited and rare, are available inside for a mere 150€, a steal when you consider one of his dolls can sell for $8,000 or even $12,000. The life-size puppet dolls sporting LaFayette ready-to-wear (ou, prêt-à-porter) and shiny Gretsch guitars had me pressing my nose and mittened fingers against the glass, just like Randy in The Christmas Story.

Gettin dolled up

Rockin the house

Fashion Shoot

Karl L. does Paris

Hold on though - just next door is Printemps, whose theme, "Noël Rêves d'Évasion" designed by Karl Lagerfield, is an ode to Chanel across the globe and throughout the decades.  Utilizing puppetry again (which bore striking resemblance to Yang's couture dolls), as well as elaborately visualized windows with traditional mannequins showcasing the historic couture, the Maison du Chanel story came alive as each window pulled you in and transported you to exotic locales such as Barritz, Cap d'Antibes, Venice, Shanghai, Moscow, the Byzantine Empire, and of course, Paris.  Paris might have been the most adorable with a window full of little Karl Lagerfield puppets in silver ponytails and black sunglasses snapping photos around the city's famous landmarks.  I was transfixed again with the detail and elegance that is hallmark of the Chanel designs.  Sigh.

Shanghai

Venise

  

Moscow

Printemps, Grand Boulevard Haussman

But on my way across the street to ponder more lasting and historical art and design at the steps of the Opéra Garnier, I turned to take in the spectacular glittering façades that adorned both of the grand shopping arcades in Paris.  That sight, and a 2€ cone of roasted chestnuts from a little Indian fellow on the corner to munch on while sitting at the foot of the Opéra, taking in all the lights and sounds and smells of Paris on this cold, clear December night, was much more than could ever be purchased on the other side of those windows.

Le Opéra Garnier, beautiful year-round

Happy holidays, and joyeux Noël!

An American Thanksgiving in Paris

Turkey Day in the City of Light

When the recent vintage is resting in barrel and the leaves on the vines and on the trees start turning that brilliant orange-gold, and the sun seems brighter and colder at the same time....it signals my most favorite time of year.  Holiday season.  This usually begins right on the heels of Halloween and rolls merrily into Thanksgiving, the last holiday I can enjoy without the pressure of commercialism breathing down my neck.  Christmas, of course is a part of this trifecta of holiday goodness, but there's something calming, warm and pure that comes with Thanksgiving.  All you have to do is cook, eat a ton (hopefully at several different locations during one day), and pass out while watching the Thursday evening football game.  On the sofa, wrapped in a warm throw in front of the fire, steaming mug of mulled wine in hand.  And this is my favorite memory of holidays in sunny California!


So this year, I am lucky enough to experience this holiday season in a true continental climate - in the north-central region of France.  And while many things about this time of the year are exactly what I love about the end of the year - vintage put to bed in barrel, leaves on the Plane trees lining the boulevards turning brilliant colors of orange and gold before drifting into the wet pavé streets, the chilly sun poking it's head out for perhaps a few hours a day before retreating, fire-roasted chestnuts and corn cobs offered up for a few Euros on every other street corner, brasseries offering vin à chaud..... there is no reference, of course, to the splendidly fall-esque holidays of Halloween and Thanksgiving.  It is, in fact, Noel, that is celebrated with relish at this time of year.

Determined to have some familiar flavors of the season this fourth Thursday in November, and to feel that I had properly engaged in l'automne, I set out to find exactly how I could enjoy a little bit of Thanksgiving in Paris.

A little bit of home on the Right Bank of the Seine

Luckily, with all of the American expats now living in Paris, this was not a hard task.  The American Church of Paris had listings of several restaurants in the city that were offering Thanksgiving meals for fixe prix, many offering them into the weekend seeing as Parisians did not take Thursday or Friday off to celebrate. (No such thing as Black Friday here!  Whew!)  There was, however, a very clever little market in the little village of Saint Paul in the Marais, called Thanksgiving.  As the name suggests, they offered all things American-made (for twice the price in America, of course, and in Euros).  And they had all the necessary objects you would need to put together a full Thanksgiving meal for 20 hungry Parisians.

I popped in around 6 pm the day before Thanksgiving.  BIG mistake.  The store was approximately 30 square meters, 15 of which were crammed with Pop Tarts, Aunt Jemima Pancake Mix, Froot Loops, Mission Tortillas, and now there was Stouffer's Stove Top Stuffing, French's Fried Onions, Libby's Pumpkin Pie Filling, Jiffy Cornbread Muffin Mix, Kraft Marshmallows all vying for space. And about 30 patrons.  The shop had fully roasted and stuffed birds to go; fresh birds to prepare at home; homemade pumpkin and apple pies, and apparently killer cranberry sauce that was gone by the time I arrived.

Where to go for PopTarts, Goldfish Crackers and Marshmallow Fluff in Paris  

But, seeing as I was just cooking for two (myself and one who would be arriving home later in the evening from work), I selected just the essentials from the shelves which included the pumpkin pie filling, cornbread muffin mix, cranberries and a few sweet potatoes.  The rest would be prepared with French ingredients.  As for the turkey element, we had a package of cutlets from the grocer that were already in the fridge, which would fill in nicely for a 20lb bird.

The turkey cutlets were breaded in French flour, salt and pepper, and pan-fried in about two tablespoons of beurre doux.  A dressing of butter, olive oil, shallot, fresh sage, cranberry chutney and red wine topped them off.  The sweet potatoes were mashed with quite a bit of beurre doux and crème entière and topped with cubes of Saint Agur fromage bleu and flat parsley.  Instead of the Green Bean Casserole that had been ever-present at the Thanksgiving table for as long as I could remember, I opted for the traditional French haricot verts, sautéed with fresh roasted chestnuts (purchased from a street vendor, roasted, along the Champs Elysées), beurre (of course), and lardon, or the French version of bacon bits.  A fantastic touch to almost any meal....

And of course, there were the classic cornbread muffins-from-a-box from Jiffy, homemade cranberry sauce (which I love to let simmer way down with a touch of red wine and dashes of orange zest, fresh cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and ginger). And of course, the pumpkin pie, or in this case, pumpkin tarte.  On top of all this American fantastic-ness, I found a website that was streaming live the Green Bay/Detroit game.  Total score!

Work in Progress

All was looking pretty good to go, and I was quite impressed that I was able to put the meal together sourcing some unfamiliar items in unfamiliar places, making the conversions from the US measurements to metric measurements, all the while preparing it all in French bachelor's kitchen without all the proper tools (like realizing there's no can opener as you prepare to open the pumpkin pie filling), and a heat induction stove top and convection oven (how do I even turn it on?!?).  But I had figured it all out, and was happily putting the final touches on the decor (chilled glasses for the Canard-Duchene Champagne, tea lights lining the counter, fleur des lys patterned cocktail napkins), when I realized that maybe I hadn't figured out the oven yet.  One hour later, the pumpkin pie still hadn't set.  The crust had baked properly, as did the cornbread muffins.  But the middle was still mush.  I set the timer for another 15 minutes at 200° C and finished whipping up the crème Chantilly.

15 minutes pass, and all is ready to be devoured.  I am starving by now, and all the wondrous flavors that have marked this holiday for me over the years are performing a dance for my senses, and I try everything one more time to make sure the flavors are in fact accurate.  All the Thanksgiving dishes I love are here, with none of the things that I often push to the side of my plate (sorry mom, still not a Green Bean Casserole fan).   The pie is still not done.  We agree to let it bake a little longer.

Et voila! Le finale.

After the turkey, potatoes, haricot verts, cornbread and cranberry have satisfied, the pie by now is out of the oven and cooling.  It still looks dismally flat and not very appetizing.  But we douse it in crème and try it anyway.  It's very strange.  Like pure pumpkin, with just a hint of sweetness.  It's edible, but not very good.  But happy with how the rest of the meal turned out, I let it go and just appreciated the fact that I could, in my own small way, celebrate my second-favorite holiday of the year in relative style in Paris.  Now that I have dutifully celebrated autumn, I am ready to embrace Noel, French-style, in the countryside, with friends and family, lots of French wine and traditional pastries, and hopefully, lots of snow!

And the next morning, while pulling the jus d'orange from the fridge, I look puzzled at the three eggs remaining on the shelf.  But there weren't supposed to be any eggs left after I made the tarte, I thought to myself............ So perhaps my baking skills are not as bad as I thought, and the convection oven could possibly turn out a good pie or tarte.  I just have to remember to put the eggs in the mix.

A prochaine fois!

Beaujolais Nouveau Est Arrivé!

17 novembre @ Nicolas Wine Shop

For all of the years that I've sported flashing red and purple lapel pins and lavished in the craziness that accompanies the annual celebration of a trés simple vin being released in France, I've never actually been in France when the fateful day of 17th November arrives.  The parties I have been to and/or have thrown look like New Year's Eve, with banners and balloons and confetti and feather boas and the encouragement of donning festive hats.  We in the wine community of America love that we can feel some sense of solidarity with our older, wiser, more elegant wine cousin, France, as the bars and brasseries along the Champs Elysées await the first boxes of the new vintage to arrive and be pillaged upon midnight of the 17th.  So it was with great curiosity and excitement that I set out on the third Thursday of November to experience this day of carbonic maceration celebration.  And I was met with....well, I guess you could say a faint enthusiasm for tasting the first finished wine of the vintage.  Most French (or at least Parisians who do know and love wine) detest the day.  But for me, I was quite excited to see what the vintage that I had just put to bed down in the Rhône Valley would taste like.  And, actually, I quite like Beaujolais.  Nouveau can be good, depending on your producer and the vintage, and can be easily enjoyed as an aperitif before delving into the smashed taters and turkey.  Really, what better to pair with Aunt Margaret's Ritz crackers and cheddar cheese chunks than Beaujolais Nouveau?  Ok, perhaps maybe if a single malt Scotch isn't available....

But like the charming window display says, today is the day that the debates on the vintage are open for discussion.  Will 2011 bring notes of cherries, strawberries or small woodland animals to the older siblings of Beaujolais, dutifully resting in their barrels the way proper wine should behave?  Or is 2011 a complete bust, worthy of no inflated wine prices on the auction blocks at Christie's?  Well, after several stops in various arrondissements in Paris, I felt I hit a good cross-section of the selections available, and found a few lovely newbies, worthy of scribbling down a note or two.

Stop No°1: Le Tire Bouchon in the 10éme.  That clay jar is filled with pickles. Yum.

Walking south from the 18éme and passing the Gare du Nord to my left, I entered into my bordering neighborhood, the 10éme, which is actually quite a lively neighborhood, with lots of cool little hang-out nooks.  I was recommended to try this bistro at Place Franz Liszt, which was rumored to have a creative wine list.  They were showcasing the Laurent Thevenet Beaujolais Nouveau from Morgon, which actually had a bright, fresh palate of strawberries, a balanced midpalate with good tannin and even a little bit of dirt on the finish.  With the assiette de charcuterie, featuring pate, jamon pays, rillette et saucisson sec, it brought out the spicier notes of the wine and downplayed the overdramatic young fruit.  Not a bad start, I thought...

Next on the itinerary was to venture to the epicenter of many quite decent and notable wine bars, le Palais Royale.  In this remarkable neighborhood you can find the likes of Les Fines Gueules, ô Chateau, Alfred, Racines, Juveniles, Willi's, and, oh yes, Le Grand Vefour.

Clearly not dressed for Vefour, I headed just north of the arcade passage that opens up onto one of the loveliest - and wonderfully tourist free - courtyard gardens in all of Paris, to Rue des Petits Champs.  We're in the 1er arrondissement now, the center of Paris and the chicest of neighborhoods.  This is where you will find the Ritz, the Louvre, the Rue Rivoli, Place Vendome.  And so of course, I had to visit the most famous wine bar in Paris known Stateside, Willi's Wine Bar.  

Which was dreadfully silent.  The sound of two people tenderly placing their glass on the polished oak bar was the only sound I heard. I am used to 'wine bars' being active at all hours of the day, especially 6:30 - 7:00pm.  But the bar à vins in Paris act a little more like restaurants, in that they close during the afternoon and really don't get going until 9pm or so.  However, I had no time to wait until then.  So I ordered a glass of the BN** (at which time the bartender asked if I really, really wanted to try this wine?  Perhaps something more complex from their carte du vins?), in dutiful research mode.  It ended up to be a rich jammy number from Domaine de Bacarra, a Beaujolais Villages producer (who is also a Vigneron Independent, more on that on a whole other post...).  With rich forest floor notes and bright plums and cherises flambé, it was the kind of elegant BN I was hoping to find at a place like Willi's.  And if you've ever been, you know their wine selection is fresh and dynamic, and I did feel kind of ashamed going in to ask for this slop of a wine, but it proves my theory that IF the producer cares and IF the bar or restaurant is discerning in their selections (and serves in proper glassware), there are many lovely BN wines to experience.  

But unfortunately that was not the case at my next stop.  All the corner bars and brasseries were fully decked out in party mode, so I just had to pause at one.  Streamers, balloons, posters, even wine barrels lining the streets as makeshift bar tables.  And the patrons were spilling out onto the street, spilling electric red wine on each other as they went merrily from one table to the next.  Music pumping - strangely a lot of American 80's tunes - and young and old alike celebrating the birth of a new vintage.  This was the action I was looking for.  But, alas, dreadful glassware prepared me for dreadful BN.  I saw them pour it from a bottle, but other than that, I never bothered to find out what it was.  Oh well, at least I got to hear Billie Jean.

If you see this in your glass, run.

Meandering back north from the 1er, I detoured through a fabulous little pedestrian shopping district,  the Rue Montorgueil which is anchored by some of the most famous cookware magasins in Paris, namely La Bovida and E. Dehillerin.  Avoiding the lusty pull of copper pots gleaming in the window, I traversed up the Rue past the many market stalls, friendly cafés, famed patisseries (i.e. Stohrer) and stumbled upon two fantastic little wine shops holding tastings of the BN right outside on the sidewalk.  With cute marketing gimmicks and free saucisson, I had to stop for just a sip.  The Miss Vicky Wine slogan (in English) 'I'm Cool Because I Drink Wine' and the girl pouring the liquid in a neon pink mini-skirt made it all worth it.  In fact, it wasn't all that terrible, but at 8€ a bottle, I knew I would just be paying for marketing.

Tasting the Miss Vicky BN

But I had one stop to go - and I had been looking forward to experiencing this place for myself ever since Uncle Tony* told me about it on his travel network show.  And although reservations at the main restaurant are impossible to get (perhaps the hype from the show, or perhaps because there are only 35 seats and the food really is good), there is a little wine bar that is associated with the main restaurant down the same dark alley in the 2éme.  Yes, Frenchie has a wine bar.  And a damn good one at that.  Just like big brother across the street, the place is minuscule (so small that there are no stools at the zinc bar - the few you do see belong to the bar tables), but they make every effort to squeeze as many people in as possible. Even with all of us bellying up to the bar asking for a glass of Alphonse Mellot to go with our freshly sliced charcuterie plate, the guys behind the bar were quite patient and helpful.  After getting used to the service levels in France, I though they gave fantastic service.  And the Carte du Vin is pretty wonderful.  Conterno, Breuer, Fichet, Leguin-Colin, Cos, even Calera made the list.  And the by-the-glass selections?  They ask you what you are looking for, what from the list might interest you, and (within some boundaries), that's what they open for you.

Frenchie Bar à Vins, with Chinon

I opted for a glass of the Mas del Périé Chinon, which was decidedly NOT a BN.  And it paired perfectly with  the Burratta et Boudin Noir avec Pomme.  The bread tasted like it was baked in a huge brick oven just a few hours before, with a lovely chocolatey-crunchy crust.  And more than once Chef Gregory Marchand came from across the street to check on the bar and chat with guests.  He asked me about the Cascina Zerbetta Barbera del Monferrato that I had moved on to.  And of course, my French failed me.  'Ah, trés bon, bien sur! C'est trés jolie cave!' was all I could get out, I believe.

Busy Little Wine Bar 

Beautiful Buratta and Boudin Noir

So perhaps I wasn't a complete purist in my pursuit of bon Beaujolais Nouveau on this third Thursday in November.  But there are times when you just have to draw the line and drink good wine.  Life is too short - and a spot at the Frenchie Bar à Vin is hart to get.  But it was fantastic to get a sneak peek to what vintage 2011 will be like for many of the wines now sleeping away the winter in their barrels.  I for one will be very excited to taste the Northern Rhônes this year.  So enjoy a glass of 2011 Beaujolais Nouveau with your cheese cubes, and love it for exactly what it is:  a preview into a truly fantastic vintage.

Cheers......and Abaluche!

*You know you wish Anthony Bourdain was your crazy uncle too.

**Beaujolais Nouveau.  Got pretty tired writing it out all those times.

McDo? No, SVP.

Just a quick note about the abundance of McDonald's dotting the Parisian landscape:  I broke down and had a Big Mac last night after my bf and I finished some bricolage in the apartment.  While I am all for In-N-Out after moving or home improvement projects, McDo (as they refer to it here) is just not the same.  And although the restaurants here look like trendy hair salons, decked out with leather stools and geometric-shaped lighting fixtures matching the brown/green/aubergine striped wallpaper, the food is just the same as I recall from my last visit about 6 years ago.  Pretty much terrible.  I had heard from several people that the burgers here are much better than in the States, and that the condiments are much tastier.  The sauce de frites was pretty much tarter sauce, and the Big Mac?  Well, I've never been able to finish one in the States without getting ill, so about half-way through I had to put it down.

Sorry Paris - I love you dearly, but I think I'll wait for my In-N-Out before having another fast food burger.

Where is L'atelier de Joel Robuchon again?

The Diz-Wheat

Sq St Bernard et St Bernard de la Chapelle

"Oh, you're in the 18th? That area is so...... um, cosmopolitan!"  Yes, my friend's exclamation upon hearing of my new neighborhood in Paris would certainly be the word to describe the 18eme arrondissement.  Not quite the 'Sex and the City' type of cosmopolitan (although this side of Paris certainly feels more like New York than down along the Seine), but a true mélange of cultures from across the globe.  At the foot of Sacré-Coeur and Montmartre to the East, you will find residents from Senegal, New Delhi, Turkey, Morocco.  It's an area that is slowly becoming gentrified and invaded by Parisian hipsters looking for the next creative neighborhood, as well as young professionals and families looking to buy within the Paris Centre without paying 800,000€ for a 60 square meter apartment.  But today, it is still a true testament to the real underside of Paris.  Of course, up on Montmartre (also part of the 18eme), apartment prices are most likely approaching that range, since the area seems already settled by the young, creative and fabulous.  And the views of Paris aren't that bad, either.  But it's when you drop down into the valleys of Montmartre that the colorful neighborhoods thrive.

Rue Myrha

Entry to the Goutte d'Or is off of Metro Line 2, 'La Chapelle', which drops you precisely at the epicenter of India, Africa and the Middle East.  Looking for a good Kebab?  You'll find about 6 comptoir pour emporter within a city block.  Need a smart-looking weave and an authentic salon that can give you a good design?  Head to Rue Myrha, where I counted 8 shops along the 2 block walk up to Montmartre. Craving truly spicy Indian cuisine that exports you directly to the heart of New Delhi?  Faubourg Saint Denis running alongside the tracks of the Gare du Nord is your stop.  But in between all of this are sights that are truly Parisian: cafés and brasseries scattered along the various rues filled with men leaning up against the carved wooden bars drinking Kronenberg or 1664 in large goblets. Beautiful tree-filled parks and squares encased in black wrought-iron gates dotted with pigeons and children running merrily about.  And the artesian boulangeries, with lines out the doors at 6:30 pm as residents gather baguettes tradition for the evening meal.  And even here, in this truly 'cosmopolitan' neighborhood hides a trend-setters 'cosmopolitan' hotel, the Murano's Kube Hotel, with it's famous Ice KUBE bar, (interior temperature set at -10°C), whose exclusive parties attract celebrities and rap stars from around the globe.

Ice KUBE Bar at KUBE Hotel

Furniture upholstery at the base of Montmartre

Venturing west from the KUBE, you'll pass over the tracks of the Gare du Nord and start the climb up to Montmartre and Sacre Coeur.  Once you've traveled up Rue Myrha and crossed Rue Cligancourt, the broken and unrepaired asphalt suddenly becomes old stone pavés beneath your feet, and the lights of the Sacré-Coeur do not have to compete with the glaring neon signage of the international calling salons lining the streets.  The romantic appeal of the bohemian in Paris slowly starts to come into focus as you pass tiny boutiques selling artwork and hand designed jewelry, and you spot the streetlights dissecting the various stairways leading up to the basilica.  Just at the foot of the hill, running along the stunning Square Louise Michel, is the textile district of Saint Pierre, anchored by Le Halle Saint-Pierre, where fabrics and other tissus that form the base of so many smartly-designed Parisian chambres and couture are produced and sold at wholesale.

Once on top of Montmartre, it's tough to get away from the tourists, and all the brightly lit shops that encourage you to buy several keychains that say 'I Love Paris'.  But at night, it's particularly charming, and I find myself wandering the Place du Tertre examining the faded marquees of the famous eateries that hosted so many Parisian luminaries of the past: La Bonne Franquette, Le Consulat, Chez la Mère Catherine, offering the same comfort to visitors today as they did in the 18th and 19th centuries.  A cup of vin chaud offered by a brasserie on the back side of the basilica makes a perfect accompaniment for a cold and drizzly autumn night.

Vin chaud for sale up on Montmartre

Basilique du Sacré-Coeur amid the tourist traps

Diverse is just the tip of the iceberg in describing the Goutte d'Or and the 18eme arrondissement.  From Pigalle and the Moulin Rouge, to the Basilique du Sacre Coeur and the hilltop art studios of Montmartre, to the Kube Hotel next to the kebab counter on Rue Max Dormy, there is certainly a lot to discover here.  It seems that even after 111 years, the spirit of la bohème is still alive and well in this little corner of Paris.

Gare du Nord

View down into the textile marchés of Saint Pierre