southward-bound

planning a trip to Australia, as easy as

1

2

3

Okay, not quite, but it definitely is a great excuse to enjoy a delicious nutella crepe from Crepe Affaire. Although nowhere near as delicious as the ones made by the French guy at Exmouth Market (and certainly not in the same universe of deliciousness as the ones made by my mom). Something tells me a lot more trip planning sessions are going to be necessary before this thing gets off the ground...

pret-less

forecast for tomorrow's lunch break: deeelicious (I hope)

sugar kid

they say the secret to living well is learning at least one thing per day. Today I learned a fun fact about strawberries: a portion of 100g of the stuff only contains only about 25 calories. Thus a carton of 400g like those they sell at Marks & Spencer only comes out to about 100 cal, barely a third of what chomping down on a Snickers bar would provide. Pigging out while eating healthy, now that's the way of the future.

sack full of dreams

so this just happened:


disclaimer: the second apple pie was graciously offered by the cashier because I had to wait 5 minutes. What was I to do, spurn his excellent customer service skills and refuse it?

eenie-meenie-meinie-moe

besides the job itself there are many things that I enjoy about my new work environment, but one of the main ones has to be the proximity to multitudes of places to get lunch. I eat at my desk most days, have done so for a few years now (I find it's just more efficient, and see the time needed to go get the food as enough of a mental break before getting back to the grind), but at my previous workplace I only had a couple of places to choose from, which got very dull very quickly. Going to the same sandwich place every day probably played a part in my feeling restless and ready to move on (and the bland Issy Les Moulineaux area I was based in did not help matters much), which isn't that ridiculous a claim when you think about it.
Now I've got all the choice in the world, which doesn't guarantee that I change every day, but at least I exit my building most lunch breaks not knowing where I'll end up at. While my life isn't sad enough (yet?) for that fact to actually have me excited, overall it is a nice change. There's the typical (Pret, delis, Cafe Whatevers), the budget (Boots, Marks), the bad-bad-bad (KFC, Pizza Hut) and then there's Selfridge's Food Hall. Consisting of several food stands, from the pretty mundane Square Pie one to an oyster bar, there is no way you can enter it and not come out with something. Recently I've been trying out the Mediteranean section, where the shish tawouk is something special, and the organic section which does a killer berry juice smoothie. This being Selfridge's, the bill generally comes out pretty steep, but that's mostly because you're always tempted to get something extra. The other day I noticed they sold some French yogurts, and almost got some to stock in the fridge at work, as I've been very underwhelmed by the local yogurt situation so far. So whereas before I'd hesitate between the chicken salad and a chicken sandwich, comparatively now I feel like those little kids entering Willie Wonka's factory.

eat simple

making my way up Oxford St yesterday around noon I started to feel the familiar hunger pangs which for some reason are synonymous with shopping for me. Like the automaton that I am, I made a few hops and arrived at my favorite house of snacks, Bar Remo. I hadn't been there in a few weeks, but as soon as I sat down, it was as if the hiatus had never happened. I was greeted with a 'ciao bello' that was even friendlier than usual, and no sooner had I told the waitress I didn't need a menu since I knew what I wanted she actually knew exactly what it was (large diet coke, tuna melt on a ciabatta). Big cities are cool when it comes to trying new restaurants, but I have to say that at times finding a sense of familiarity, especially for a recent arrivee, can make an unfamiliar town feel a whole lot like home. And if there's one thing that's true about eating at home, it's that it can make a delicious tuna melt that much more special.

where's the beef

as we all know fast food is bad for you. Bad, bad, bad. There's been a book and a movie about it, both of which I've both ingested (ha). There's also this quaint concept called common sense: if you eat too much of something that's got lots of fat, you're gonna become fat yourself.
But there's a reason why people, myself including, keep eating it, it's that it's the ultimate comfort food. Sure a lot of it, okay most of it, is gross, but the 8-year-old in all of us really likes it, so once in a while we succumb to the crave. For many, myself included again, that happens in a drunken stupor in the wee hours. Seriously, I cannot fathom how much it must suck to work at any of those fast-food joints downtown after midnight. Except for the Wiener Circle in Chicago, because the Wiener Circle is Awesome. But it's no revelation to say that fast food is here to stay

Overall I tend to stay away from fast food, thankfully in part because I don't like it too much anymore. But every so often I'll come across an ad for a new product from one of the merchants of fats and feel compelled to try it out. Such was the case with KFC's latest offering, the Honey BBQ Boneless Bites. Now at 7am in the tube seeing a poster for this might not make your taste buds whimper in anticipation, but on a Sunday with no known plans for lunch, it sounded like a most excellent idea.

Thus the trek was made this morning to my local bluegrass state poultrian establishment, like a man on a mission. Come to think of it, I kind of was a man on a mission. For some that means climbing Mount Everest, for others trying out a new delicacy of modern chemistry.

Here they are, the BBQ bites in all their sticky glory


Feeding the belly is one thing, but real men need intellectual stimulation too (um, and footy results)


Overall I wasn't disappointed: the honey BBQ sauce was very tasty, and the chicken breat tender. Since I try to keep these sorts of outings to a minimum (drunken shenanigans notwithstanding, although recently I am proud to say there have been less of those too), I'm glad that I enjoyed this experiment.

Speaking of which, after dining at Chez Colonel Sanders, I went to Sainsbury's to pick up a few essentials, and came upon this miracle of modern science: red Coca Cola. Now there's something that lies beyond the curiosity of even an adventurous lad like myself.

southern comfort

back in 2001 I spent three months in London for an internship, months during which I barely got to explore the city due to a pretty heavy workloads (night-sessions, weekends). But I still had a lot of fun, due to being part of a team of interns, all French, most of whom I actually lived with. Since we spent so much time at the office, we had to rely on our neighborhood restaurants for most of our meals. Thankfully that aspect was not a problem, however we often went back to the same places, namely a thai restaurant and an italian eatery. The latter was called Bar Remo, and I still have fond memories of us 5 going to pick up our orders with the head waitress saying "ciao" and "thank you bello" to us.

Over the past years I've come back to London regularly, and made a point to visit these old haunts, in part due to nostalgia, but really because when it comes to simple, kind-of affordable food in that area (Oxford Circus), the pickings can be pretty slim. Making a permanent move here last month provided me with a renewed sense of newcomerness, and coming to Bar Remo for a quick bite has been one of the things that has allowed me to quickly feel at home in this tremendous city. Though some of the staff has changed, they're still as nice as always, the tuna melt tastes as great as back then, and the old pictures of soap stars on the walls haven't moved. These past few weeks I've been going every Saturday for lunch, generally after running some quick errands (located on Princes Street just off Regent Street, you can't beat that), and it feels like the tradition we had in 2001 might just get replaced by a new one. Because truthfully, who doesn't like being called "bello" while entering a familiar place?

Bar Remo

routine lunch

okay, so mayyyybe the brownie wasn't necessary

oh my darling

as much as winter gets a bad rap for the -admittedly not that- cold climate it brings, one of the awesomely great things about it is being able to buy good clementines in pretty much any halfway decent grocery store. That fruit is like a gift from the gods, plus it only contains 30 calories per: everybody wins !
It's gotten to the point where I almost understand those people that gave some out at Halloween. Almost, I said.

food for thought

when it comes to choosing a restaurant (at least when I'm relied on to make that choice), I tend to not plan things in advance and pretty much decide on the spot. Reservations ? Not my bag baby. Such a situation arose last night when I was out with a friend near Opera (more specifically the Galeries, where I bought a pair of jeans, unfortunately not on sale) and we were both beginning to feel the pangs of hunger.

After walking for a few minutes toward rue de Rivoli (my friend had to take the RER at Chatelet to go home, so we walked in that direction), I remembered that we were in the vicinity of one of my favorite small bistrots in Paris, le Bar de l'Entracte. Located on rue de Montpensier, just behind the Palais Royal gardens, it should be overrun by tourists, but for some reason isn't. One of its main selling points is the great terrace. I'm not a big fan of Parisian terraces, as too often they're too close to a pedestrian-filled pavement, or they're just a people-watching HQ for jaded Parisians. But this is the real deal. The place is on a small street, so there's nary a car in sight, and the only time there's a crowd on the street is when the Theatre du Palais Royal lets out its audience (and even then it's nothing major).

But it's not just location, location, location when it comes to this bistrot, as the menu is quite cheap (for that neighborhood). One of their specialties is the bowl of macaroni and light cream which they couple with various ingredients: swiss cheese, chicken, lardoon... They've got at least 10 different recipes and all those I've tried were delicious. They've got plenty of other items on the menu as well, although I can't say I've tried those. The service is good and the way the tables are set up mean you can even -yes, I know this might be shocking in Paris- make small talk with people around you. There's also an Italian restaurant right next to it, with the same sort of terrace, so I might have to try that one of these days (although I've pretty much given up on finding pizza as good as that I used to have in NYC).

I'm not a big fan of dressed-up eating, where a meal can take up 2h (when I was a kid I always had a problem with long meals, and I've barely gotten better since), my thing is more the small "unremarkable" places that end up knocking your socks off because of their great combination of relaxed setting, laid-back people and good food. What's funny is once you get there, good conversations start flowing, a feeling of well-being takes over, and you end up staying 2 hours+. Le Bar de l'Entracte is one of those places, and I hope it won't be two years before I go there again.

picture taken by Nokier

fresh baked

this morning before work I stopped by a bakery to get some croissants and chocolatines (chocolate croissants). Initially I wanted to get a couple of each, so i could share some with my co-office dwellers. Once I made my order the lady at the counter started telling me something, but I couldn't understand the words coming out of her mouth. I think it was about a special they were having where you buy x items you get 1 free. I say I think because the combination of my sleepyhead-ness and her fast talking+semi-accent made things a little hairy for the few braincells that were already awake. So I just mumbled "yeah, sure" and she asked me for 3€50 and I got a bunch of croissants and chocolatines back. Overall not a bad deal, but I gotta say that speaking fast to the customer in a foreign accent (honestly I have no idea where the woman was from, maybe Romania ?) is a top-notch sales technique. I mean, maybe 5% of people will throw a hissy fit if this happens, but I'm guessing most people feel too sheepish at 8am to do so and will just have the same reaction I had.
Of course this sales method is not universally applicable. Try this at a bar with drunken patrons and you're bound to be met with more hostility than Mel Gibson at a Bar Mitzvah. Then again, when drunk people get into a fight, there's a 64% chance they're gonna end up hurting themselves and not you, so you might have a good strategy after all, if you're into that sort of thing.

brown bag it

As part of my continuing search for financial improvements (subtext: it’s all small stuff), I’ve recently started bringing my own lunch to work. Nothing fancy, as I prepare it in the morning, which isn’t my favourite time to operate, just enough so I don’t feel hungry 14 mins after having eaten it. My usual fare consists of some sort of salad (carrots, tomatoes, parmesan…), a sandwich (turkey and swiss on whole wheat, how I love thee) and a fruit. A few months back I used to not eat lunch at all, so this is almost like an all you can eat buffet compared to then, but still much more rationed than the big portions you get when you buy lunch at a take-out place. And of course, it costs much less to do so. One such trip to the sandwich place costs me around 8-10 euros, whereas here I spend 2 euros (at most). Ka-ching !
Now I only have to find a way to stop spending so much dough on the other “frivolous” expenses, like CDs and magazines, and pretty soon I’ll be able to buy myself a house. Or a DVD, whichever comes first.