The second part of this post is all about the minestrone soup I made after this Sunday’s farmers’ market.

First though, I want to tell you about last weekend and the “Journées européennes du patrimoine” (or, European Heritage Days). I had already re-scheduled (note RE-scheduled) an eye appointment for Saturday afternoon, and Sébastien was set to play two tennis games Sunday. Though we’d been talking about it for about a month (“Oh, yeah, can’t wait to see that!” and “I’m sure there’ll be a long line, but we could try anyway.”), neither of us had realized the heritage days were this particular weekend when making all our other plans. I wasn’t about to re-schedule my appointment yet again, and, well, when there’s a tennis game, there’s a tennis game. So, we sadly didn’t think we’d end up taking much advantage of the long-awaited festivities.

As luck would have it though, Saturday was our day, as the eye doctor (over near Rebublique in the 11^th) proved to be a fabulous way to start the weekend (believe that!). Not only did the doctor say my view had gotten better (I know, right?), we stumbled upon La maison des métallos (more or less, the “house of the metal workers”). Now a cultural center in the heart of a diverse Parisian neighborhood, this was once a factory where wind instruments were made (and apparently sought after by American jazz artists in the 1930s). Then, the building was bought by the “Union Fraternelle des Métallurgistes” – with an entire history that we learned all about on our tour (thanks to the heritage days!). Now I’m looking forward to attending some of the center’s community-oriented performances, debates….

Sunday, we (after how many years in Paris?) went to the Musée Chaillot (directly across from the Eiffel Tower and dedicated to “architecture et patrimoine”). We chose it thinking it wouldn’t take too long and was doable between tennis matches. Wrong! We spent about an hour and need to go back. We didn’t see everything, but what we did was pretty neat.

This was the conversation upon arrival at the ticket desk (yes, even when museums are free for the day, you still have to get a ticket):

Ticket agent: Would you like to see the Gaultier exhibit?

Us: Um, uh. Oui?

Ticket agent: Okay, I’d recommend going directly there since it closes at 5pm.

Us: Merci!

Up the elevator we go, into a sort of dream world. We enter a room covered (completely covered) with blue and white striped fabric. It’s pulled tight over the walls and furniture – making you feel simultaneously dizzy and quite curious. Imagine pulling a giant pair of striped tights over your living room – you can distinguish the objects (like tea cups), but they’re under a haze. We continued to a small series of rooms after that – taking note of the amazing view over Paris out the windows. (The exhibit’s on until October).

Back down the elevator, we saw the rooms dedicated to different architectural casts (life-size) from around France (like church facades and statues). Then, we headed to the architecture floor. Quarter to six came too fast and we had to skedaddle.

Heritage Minestrone

Didn’t I say I’d write about soup? Well, here it is: after a busy weekend and an equally busy week coming up, I made minestrone – to last several days.

It’s easy. My only recommendation is cooking and keeping the noodles separate – otherwise they get soggy after a day. I prefer them al dente all the time.

Also, soak the dried beans in water overnight (that’s what my mom’s always done with pinto beans back home). It keeps them more digestible (we’ll leave it there). It also means less cooking time, and thus more nutrition.

Shopping List

1 onion

2 potatoes (diced small)

2 carrots

3 stalks celery

A handful or two green beans

1 can crushed peeled tomatoes and their juice

1 cup dried red or white beans (soaked overnight and cooked – about an hour)

1 cup small elbow pasta (cooked)

Olive oil

Rosemary

Thyme

Salt

Pepper

Parmesan cheese (finely grated)

Fresh basil

Recipe:

1. Chop all ingredients into small squares or pieces.

2. Sautée the onion, then add the potatoes, carrots, celery and finally the green beans.

3. Cover with water, add some rosemary, thyme and salt.

4. Let simmer until all the veggies are cooked.

5. Add the tomatoes and their juice (Maybe you could add this right away, but I had to run out to get it – stove-top burner turned off of course!)

6. Add the cooked beans.

7. When ready to serve, dish a small amount of pasta into bowls, cover with the soup, grated Parmesan, pepper and fresh basil.

The best is making this soup on Sunday and enjoying it all week. The flavors just get better and better.

P.S. This weekend, September 23-24, is the Fete de la gastronomie in France.

]]> http://thetomatoknife.com/2011/09/heritage-minestrone-recipe/feed/ 2 http://thetomatoknife.com/2011/03/upstairs-at-duroc-issue-12/ http://thetomatoknife.com/2011/03/upstairs-at-duroc-issue-12/#comments Thu, 10 Mar 2011 16:21:06 +0000 Joy Anna Becvarik http://thetomatoknife.com/?p=1687 The latest edition of the Paris-based literary review, Upstairs at Duroc, is out and ready to be read!

Why am I so excited? Under the shiny green and white cover, lies my first ever piece of published fiction!

Issue 12 includes poetry, prose and photography from a varied group of international writers. If you like poetry, you’ll find a selection of contemporary work by authors such as Alice Notley. I had the chance to hear her read at the review’s launch last January and feel honored to have my own work printed under the same cover.  If you like photography, there are several crisp black and white shots that give the book a timeless, artsies feeling. And, of course, there’s fiction…

You can pick up a copy of the review tonight at the American Library as they host Upstairs at Duroc for a poetry reading. March is poetry month in Paris (aka “le printemps des poètes”) and just about everyone participates (from actors reciting in the streets to small bookshops opening their doors to poetry-hungry visitors). This year’s theme is “Infinite Landscapes” and tonight you’ll hear from poets Margo Berdeshevsky, Paula Bohince, Dylan Harris, and Sarah Riggs.

If you can’t make it to the reading, you can support the publication (and budding artists like me) by ordering a book. Contact me here if you’re interested.

This week I got to meet David Lebovitz and picked up a beautiful (and heavy) copy of his latest cookbook, Ready for Dessert.

Once a pastry chef at Alice Water’s Berkley-based restaurant, Chez Panisse, Lebovitz now lives in Paris. On his blog and in his books, he not only shares recipes, but also comical anecdotes about his everyday life in Paris- many of which the rest of us can identify with. My first glimpse into the chef/author’s world of witty sarcasm and goofy observations came as I was leafing through the introduction of an earlier book, The Sweet Life in Paris. Here, he describes the “exact” moment he “became Parisian.” This story alone is worth a trip to the bookstore, especially for we foreigners who will undoubtedly chuckle and say, “That’s so true!”

At the WHSmith-sponsored reading, Lebovitz kept joking about one of his recent blog posts and his misadventures at the grocery store. I, too, have grocery store stories, but more generally I seem to have plastic bag stories. This, in fact, is one of the five or so items I’ve cried over in France- well, it’s never really the bag itself, but the callous person behind the bag who is always the last straw in an already long line of straws. One of the bag stories put an end to my buying produce at the grocery store. The other story put an end to frequenting one of my favorite boulageries.

I don’t actually know what the real policy is because each grocery store employee seems to dictate their own rules. Until that day (incidentally, the same day Obama was sworn into the White House), no one had ever abided to the “all produce must be in a much-too-big plastic bag” mantra. In many European grocery stores, you must weigh your produce and stick the price on it before proceeding to the cash register. In some stores, there is someone who does this for you- usually they are friendly enough. The weighing process often involves a large plastic bag- which I never want (and, in my opinion, goes directly against the grocery stores’ marketing ads supporting sustainable development). Sometimes, there are small paper bags that you can use, but it seems I’m always having to ask for them. Thus, for thick-skinned, easily-portable items (such as a single lemon or three attached bananas), I’ll get them weighed without a bag. Usually, no one cares and I leave the store happily counting the lack of non-biodegradable items in my canvas shopping tote. One day, however, the antagonist of my story not only says (in a very unfriendly tone) that my lemon must be in a plastic bag, she refuses to give me a paper bag (stacked in a neat pile next to the scale)- even after I tried to explain why I didn’t want yet another plastic bag (that would be sealed with the price sticker and, once broken, not reusable). I went on about how it was the store’s policy to be sustainable. When people aren’t friendly, I don’t buy- unfortunate for me, because I couldn’t make lemon bars that day.

My other plastic bag story was at the bakery, about three years after moving to France. Had it been any old bakery, I might not have cared so much, but this was the very first bakery I had ever been to in France and, thus, it had quite a bit of sentimental value attached to it. I remember buying my first pain aux raisins from a cheerful, blonde girl with a bouncy ponytail. It was the most wonderful thing my twenty-something self had ever eaten. Throughout that entire first year I went there all the time. Thus, my deception when, years later, a grumpy woman refused to give me a plastic bag (the only reason I wanted one was because I had just bought two items, it was raining and I didn’t have any room in my book bag). Completely unprepared for the storm that was to hit me, I was paralyzed by the bark that informed me the bags were only for the sandwiches. I tried to insist, and was hoping the people in line behind me would support my cause, but all I ended up with was a pool full of water about to overflow from my eyes. I managed to get out of there before the tears really started flowing and my face turned all red.

These stunned, helpless moments don’t happen that often, but when they do- I wonder, “Was it my fault?” When I ask Sébastien (who in the evening can probably still see the blood simmering under my skin), he says, “No” and that “It’s not normal.” This is to say that even French people find this sort of behavior shocking and wonder where it comes from. Since neither of us are from a big city, we wonder if it’s that. Or maybe it’s the latitude and the lack of sunlight in winter that creates a handful of grumps. Unfortunately, I’m afraid it’s these few cranky people who give France a bad image. Think about it, if I came to Paris for a week-long vacation and encountered the woman at the bakery, I’d probably say “the French are rude,” too- something we know isn’t generally true.

Back to Lebovitz, go out and get his latest book if you’re up for baking (and stories). Also, if you’re interested in meeting him, he’ll be at Café Etienne Marcel on Friday, May 28^th. Check the WH Smith website for details.

In cooperation with Berkeley Books of Paris, an English-language bookshop, “Pause on the Landing” (I know, we try to be clever when we can) will be a recurring discussion-based gathering to help support both new and established writers.

The idea is to meet in a relaxed, friendly atmosphere to hear new pieces and works in progress. Then we’ll discuss them. Tonight we’ll be hearing from three authors: Jacqueline Bishop (poetry), Dimitri Keramitas (prose) and Sarah Emily Miano (prose).

The event is free and open to all interested in joining the Paris literary community. Come ready to participate, as questions and discussion will be encouraged!

Details:

Pause on the Landing Reading Series #1

Wednesday, April 14, 2010 (7pm)

Berkeley Books of Paris (8 rue Casimir Delavigne, Paris 6^e)

Metro: Odéon