une fille doit manger

I said that I didn’t want to talk about the gluten thing anymore, but I’ve changed my mind. First of all, I spend about 75% of my time thinking about food anyway (which has now increased at least 10% since attempting to avoid gluten) and I live in Paris so it’s unavoidable to not blog about what I’m eating.

It should be said that in an ideal world, I would eat all my meals at little charming cafes where they serve spicy Dijon mustard with the salt and pepper and would also be able to provide a new pastry description with every blog update. Unfortunately, however, eating out in Paris is, if possible, even more expensive than doing so in New York (gasp) because of the Euro/Dollar exchange and the incroyable snobbery that Parisians attach to their eating. A quick 12 Euro salad for lunch is almost 20 bucks, plus coffee, etc. And, as far as pastries go, I can stare at them and even buy them to take pictures of for y’all, but then not eating them might be the biggest tease and the biggest waste in the world.

almond croissants: by far the greatest french pastry

So. I’m cooking. A lot. More than ever. My eating habits definitely change with what’s going on in my life (the summer of living off bread, cured meats and manchego cheese will not soon be forgotten by many who knew me then), and so here, that largely depends on what’s at the market. Fresh produce, even when it’s from the organic market where everything is pricier, is the cheapest way to eat, and eat really well at that. The mushrooms they sell still have dirt on the roots and are the softest, sweetest little nuggets of fungus (yes, sweet – there is nothing like them in the US). I can get a whole bag for a few euros and eat some almost daily, sliced very thin and as served as cold as possible on a salad with warm lentils or rice and goat cheese. Num.

the best vegetable in the world is a fungus

Mushroom and noodles is still one of my favorite combinations and recalls the days of trying to feed myself in apartment 6B in NYC. There, I became highly adept at all varieties of vegetarian pasta dishes and went through literally blocks of Parmesan cheese (garlic orchiette and broccoli, mushroom and spinach tagliatelle, Gruyere mac and cheese, etc) from Beloved West Side Market. Now, of course, of course, pasta is out of the gluten-free picture (though I spotted a quinoa-based variety that I will check out next week and report back about), and since I went thought about 2 backs of brown rice last week in first-week-without-gluten-induced carb withdrawl, it looks like I should start to branch out.

What’s that you say? Where the heck do I get my protein eating all those veggies and carbs? Is Freddy a vegetarian? Great questions. Answer: I actually LOVE white meat, red meat, and fish, but for whatever reason, I rarely attempt to cook them for just me. So here begins the phase of reincorporating protein from other things besides cheese back into my diet, though everything I cook this semester will have to be done oven-less-ly.

3 Things I cannot live without that I would die if contained gluten:

  1. Dijon mustard. I once, over the course of the day, ate an entire baguette with butter and mustard as my singular sustenance for that particular turn of the world on its axis. They serve this sinus-clearing spicy bliss at every restaurant with the sel et poivre, and it’s cheap in bulk at the local FranPrix, so I eat it on EVERYTHING. No more bread, but all other forms of nourishment from chicken to broccoli to lentils and lemony dressing.
  2. Coffee in French Press. First, because this pricey little device (even on sale) has paid for itself almost 5 times in the amount of money I’ve saved from café coffee (café café?), and it’s so freakin’ strong and delicious. And you can have multiple cups without someone judging you.
  3. Red Wine. I had a panic attack when running today that the yeast used to ferment grapes was somehow glutenous, but I checked on beloved Celiacs.com and it appears that I’m safe! Even in Paris you can get delicious bottles for under 10 Euros, and I even found a store that sells Spanish varieties (not something that I usually feel comfortable asking for in a French wine store). Beer is out of the picture, though I cannot imagine never having another. Some days are for cheating. Yes. Quote me.

mustard + coffee... not so much together but in the same day (everyday)

What I made today: Organic Cole Slaw.

This dish might sum up my entire identity at this phase of life. Organic, because on Sundays, the market is. And cole slaw because I miss the South. In Paris, all my friends from school think I HAVE A SOUTHERN ACCENT (for those of you who know me outside of Knoxville, this is not really true in the big scheme of things). They ALL chuckle everytime I say “y’all” and when “yes ma’am” slips out on a call to the US. What in the world!? I am so not that person! Pff. Liberals. Anyway, if they knew I was making cole slaw I would never hear the end of it (does your family only eat biscuits and gravy for breakfast? do you live on a plantation? are you racist? wait, no… ARE YOU CONSERVATIVE!!!????). Sparing y’all (ha ha ha) the tedium of a recipe, it’s a mixture of shredded cabbage and apples in a mustard-lemon vinaigrette. I ate mine with crumbled goat cheese and pine nuts but I envision blue cheese and walnuts as being equally savory substitutes.

cole slaw in paris

What I’m going to eat tonight: Poutine.

Before watching Peyton in the playoffs at a Canadian sports bar, I was unaware of the glories of this Quebec-ian treasure. It is a mixture of french fries (fantastically and naturally gluten-less – side note: in an unfortunate loss of humor translation, I made the joke to a French person this weekend at they were Freedom Fries to me and he was NOT humored… ooopsies) + mushroom brown gravy + cheese curds. I cannot give you details of those last two ingredients because I still don’t understand them, but basically it is gloriously gooey and all mixed together in a big hot bowl and you eat it with whatever you can find (fingers, forks, spoons, face) and you love Canada for the first time in your life. I can’t eat high-brow organic hippy food all the time or I have withdrawl and do something stupid like go to Krystal and over-indulge in a whole extra-mustard, extra-pickle sackful. Reasons not to move back to Knoxville. Poutine for balance, then.

Poutine. Ich liebe, Canada.

Tonight, the Superbowl starts at midnight, and you better believe we’re going to the canadian Moose to secure a table at 6 pm. Yes, I’m the kind of person that will make a nice bowl of crisp and healthy cabbage for lunch and follow it with a bowl of Canadian cheese fries. No, I am not ashamed. Yes, I’m studying architecture (pronounced arr-shee-tet-shur) in Paris, but by the sound of this blog, you would never know!




~ by soleilsphere on February 7, 2010.

One Response to “une fille doit manger”

  1. Can’t say that I like the looks of Poutine. And, you’re right about NOT sounding like you are up to much drafting. Stay away from Cordon Blue please! You are starting to sound like Julia. Bon Appetit!

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