Pierre Sang Boyer, via Instagram


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One day I found myself in Oberkampf, eating an engaging, entertaining lunch, sans DSLR. So what is a digitally inclined girl to do? Instagram it, of course.



Restaurant Pierre Sang takes no reservations — in fact, it has no phone — so get there early if you want a seat in the small space. If you can manage it, sit at the bar that faces into the open kitchen, where the chefs work right in front of you.


The menu of two, three, or four courses, is no-choice. They don’t even tell you what you’re eating until you’ve finished the plate. B and I had fun trying to guess what kind of grain was in the risotto-like curry above (answer: barley) and what kind of root vegetables were draped so colorfully over the sausage (answer: heirloom turnips and radishes).

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Roasted Brussels Sprout and Coconut Bowl


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I’ve been vagabonding around Paris of late, staying at one obliging friend’s apartment after another while they’re out of town, house-sitting or cat-sitting or what have you. It’s a great way to experience different parts of the city, to be sure, but it’s also a formula for feeling constantly not-quite-at-home.

There are things I do to make myself feel less like an interloper into someone else’s space: saturating the house with my favorite music; drinking inordinate amounts of tea while staring out of the windows, familiarizing myself with the view; making the kitchen smell like my kitchen.


One of the defining smells of the kitchen in which I grew up is sesame oil. My standard after-school snack when I was a little girl was a bowl of rice mixed with a bit of soy sauce and sesame oil, the distinct nutty smell of the oil amplified by the heat of the rice.

This bowl of greens and grains is like a grown-up version of my carb-bomb after school snack. Delicate Brussels sprouts leaves and crunchy coconut are tossed in an Asian-inspired vinaigrette, walked quickly through the oven just to get them toasty, and served over hot, fluffy brown rice. I know it sounds way too healthy to be exciting, but trust me: this is some seriously addictive stuff, friends.

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Le 6 Paul Bert


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I met up with awesome Jackie at Le 6 Paul Bert on a freezing evening during a week when I felt like I was dining out every night. It might have been because I’ve been at restaurants so much lately, but this place didn’t really wow me. Don’t get me wrong — everything was fresh and well-made and beautifully plated, but nothing made me want to get out of my seat and applaud. Still, Le 6 Paul Bert is a solid adresse and I wouldn’t hesitate to go there again, and at €38 for three dishes and a dessert, it’s not too hard on the credit card either.

Tartare de bar, mayonnaise d’huitres et herbes amères


Coteaux XL juste saisis, eau de laitue de mer, daikon


Noix de veau, carottes blanches, persil et moelle

Longe de cochon, endive rôtie et poire


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Who’s got two thumbs and is behind on blogging? *points to self*


So! This dim sum thing has, to my delight, become a regular occurrence. Every weekend, on Saturday or Sunday morning, you can find a group of anywhere from four to a dozen expats meeting up in the 13th and noisily consuming stacks of steamer baskets full of plump dumplings.


We recently started trying a new place, Tricotin, which is right across the street from our other usual dim sum place, La Chine Massena. I like it because it has huge windows that look out into the street, which let a lot of light in. I also love the fried items on the menu, in which La Chine Massena is sadly lacking.



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Bones by James Henry


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James Henry, previously of Au Passage, has opened a new testosterone-and-punk-rock-fueled restaurant and bar in that corner of the 11th that’s been seeing a lot of action lately.

Prosecco sur Lie Casa Coste Piane, tartare de veau, good books


Get your hipster boners ready, friends. Unsulfured, natural wines. Homemade bread. House-churned butter. Homemade charcuterie. Mozzarella minute. Offal and raw stuff all over the place.


Homemade bread and butter


This was M’s favorite. He had opinions.

Four amuse-bouche

Clockwise from top left: coeur de canard; grilled octopus; cochon de lait broth with roast sea urchin, foie gras, and cabbage; charcuterie maison

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Sunday Beer Lunch at L’Express de Lyon


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I don’t know if I’ve mentioned my deep and abiding love for beer on this blog yet. I was introduced to craft brew several years ago and fell head-over-heels, to the point where I did a bit of homebrewing in my Santa Monica kitchen before moving to Paris.

Imagine my disappointment when I arrived in France and couldn’t for the life of me find any decent brews. Sure, there were a couple of imports from Belgium at the grocery store, and a few specialty beer shops, but at most restaurants and bars it was the French equivalent of Bud, Miller, and Coors. Shudder.

But to my delight, craft beer has been starting to get a foothold in Paris, partly due to the efforts of people like the folks who put on the Sunday Beer Lunch, a pop-up brewpub event I was lucky enough to attend last weekend with EdnaEmily, and a few of our friends.




The lunch was Cajun-themed in honor of Mardi Gras, with three courses each paired with a delicious craft brew. Shrimp remoulade toasts, muffuletta sandwiches, and pimento cheese were served with light and crisp Saison Dupont. Then spicy (but not too spicy, for the Parisian palettes) jambalaya with Brooklyn Brewery’s EIPA, followed by beignets with chicory crème anglaise and my favorite beer of the day, Meantime Chocolate Porter. All for €30. Unheard of.


No joke: that chicory crème anglaise was so good that we straight-up drank it after the beignets were gone.

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A Girly Brunch: Café Charlot and Jacques Genin


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One snowy Sunday, I met up with wonderful Jackie for a cozy, girly brunch.



Café Charlot is on a bustling corner in the NoMa, full of very chic people desperate to get their sunday œufs brouillés and cafés. Pretty interior, decent brunch food, gruff waiters. It’s the full Parisian experience.


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Smothered Pork Roast Over Rice


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I’ve been going out to eat a lot lately. I feel like I’m finally starting to figure out this Paris thing, and a big part of that is hanging out with friends at good restaurants… which means that I’m not cooking as much.

There’s this thing that happens when I eat a lot of restaurant food, though, where I start to crave the kind of thing that restaurants don’t tend to serve. Long-simmered, inexpensive cuts of meat. Saucy brown stuff. The kind of food that isn’t pretty on a plate, but sticks to your ribs.


This is what I want today, after several nights of restaurant food. Fork tender pork meets a nutty, buttery, oniony sauce that’s rendered rich and complex by a cajun-style, chestnut-colored roux. Plus pajamas, plus Netflix, plus beer, equals perfect night in.

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La Chine Massena


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On Sunday mornings, I tend to wake up with a dim sum craving. It’s… inconvenient.


While there is good dim sum in Paris, it turns out it’s way out in the 13th, in the southeast corner of the city. Well one morning I convinced some expat friends to make the trek (in the snow! Uphill both ways!) in search of dumplings and cha siu bao.


Blurry friends are blurry!


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