Queenie's Treasury

Happy long weekend, folks! (Well, American folks. Happy regular weekend, rest of the world!) It's a sunny, hot day here in New York, and I'll be heading back out into is just as soon as I refuel with my iced coffee. In the meantime, here are a few tidbits to keep you entertained while you prepare for your Labor Day festivities. (Mine include shopping; your mileage may vary, of course.)

First up (and I realize I'm late to the party on this one), the incredible work of designer Olympia Le-Tan, who creates embroidered clutches and handbags based on classic book covers. I want them all, of course, but since they cost about $2,000 apiece, I'll have to settle with admiring them from afar for now.

I first spotted Christine Lindstrom's work in West Elm (I love the way they're showcasing independent artists in each collection these days), and I love her richly hued watercolors. Her Etsy shop is full of wonderful prints, stationery, and original works. If I had to choose just one, it would probably be this watercolor, entitled Grove, which puts me in mind of a fairy tale forest.

On this Labor Day weekend, I'll leave you with a little bit of Paris. Freunde von Freunden's interview with textile designer Céline Saby is great, and I absolutely love the photos of her salon and apartment. The latter has a sort of Parisian surfer chic vibe to it, and I can't get enough of it, or this little reading nook in the windows. 

Queenie's Treasury

Aaaaaand...we're back! After a bit of a hiatus for the holidays (when real-life shopping and partying took over for the imaginary sort), I'm ready to reboot the Treasury for 2012. And it's going to be a luxe, lavish, happy, colorful kind of year, kids.

First up, this golden flatware from West Elm. I love how the rich, shiny color is set off by the supremely clean lines of the design. I'm thinking that - when it's back in stock, as West Elm has promised it will be - I'll buy a set to mix in with my vintage sterling. I think the combination will be divine.

Next, a perfect cold-weather food project, for those of you who enjoy that sort of thing. My friend Lucy Vanel lives a pretty amazing life in Lyon, and you can read all about it on her exceptionally beautiful blog, Lucy's Kitchen Notebook. (You can also engage her for what promises to be an incredible food tour of the city.) Today she posted her latest project, duck wing confit. Duck wings are traditionally neglected for their meatier breast and leg counterparts, so Lucy was able to snag a whole bunch of them at three euros a pound. Add in a bit of time, a whole bunch of rendered duck fat and some herbs, and you have a winter's worth of tender goodness.

I always find Rita Konig's particular brand of casual polish enchanting. This shot of her living room inspired me to finally pull together a few stray corners of my own tiny apartment. The result has been an ongoing sense of harmony, comfort and oh-so-grown-up-ness. I could get used to this.

Queenie's Treasury

Happy weekend, my doves! Sorry that the Treasury's been absent of late; things on this end have been a bit nutty. No more excuses, though - let's get down to business!

First up, from Design Shimmer, a remarkable vacation home on the coast of Spain. I am in lust with the setting, the way the house is built right into the cliff (and boasts it as a wall in certain spots), and the pool. It's just stunning, and I can't think of a better place to spend the last toasty days of summer.

Next, via Live Creating Yourself, an adorable Brooklyn apartment. The soft gray walls are calming and sophisticated, but I'm especially taken with the worn-in leather settee. Between the mysteriously smoke-darkened painting and the cozy tartan blanket, this looks to me like the absolute best place in the world to curl up with a book.

My eGullet friend Lucy lives a most remarkable life in Lyon. Her most recent blog post, however, is about bringing a bit of the States to the French - in this case, a cucumber-gin cocktail she first sampled here in New York. If that Spanish pool is the best place to be right now, this is the best thing to drink, hands-down. Cucumbers are at their height, and nothing's more refreshing than gin. (No, not even water. Don't be silly.)

Le quatorze juillet.

It's that time again, folks! Time for feasting, fireworks and patriotism.

No, no - this isn't a late Fourth of July post. This is a FourTEENTH of July post. Today is Bastille Day, the day when France celebrates the storming of the Bastille prison (a turning point in the French Revolution) and their république in general. Here in the States, it's a fabulous excuse to celebrate French culture, wine and food.

I plan to mark the occasion with a glass of champagne and a crêpe of some kind. Or maybe some mussels. Ooooh, or steak frites. Hmmmm...

How will you celebrate? Whatever French tradition, drink or meal you choose, get things started off right with a little Marseillaise action. That's right, kiddos. It's time for your annual Casablanca clip. Enjoy.

A little light reading.

After finishing Moby-Dick for last month's book club meeting, I've been engaged in a binge-like round of comfort reading. I re-read Ruth Reichl's superlative second memoir (Comfort Me With Apples) and am deep into a session with Northanger Abbey (which I've read too many times to count). In between, I picked up Lunch In Paris, a memoir by Elizabeth Bard.

The book is, in fact, billed as a "love story with recipes," so I was excited to read it and get inspired. I was a bit disappointed, as the food mentioned - and often described with loving tenderness - rarely matched the recipes presented at the close of each chapter. (The thematic connections were there, to be fair.) That said, some of the recipes that were included seemed interesting, most notably Chapter Three's poulet basquaise.

Basque cooking is perhaps best known for its inclusion of piment d'espelette, a dried pepper that is the region's answer to paprika. It's delicious, sweet and smoky and spicy and complex. I love it, but had never cooked with it before. One order from Kalustyan's later, I was ready to get moving.

Poulet basquaise combines the d'espelette pepper with fresh sweet peppers and copious amounts of onion. Not everyone's cup of tea, surely, but I've rarely heard two words I love more than "onions" and "peppers." The recipe also called for a decent amount of bacon, some canned tomatoes, and had a fabulous sauce to meat ratio (read: high).

However. For an entire chicken, 28 ounces of tomatoes, 8 ounces of bacon, three peppers and four onions, Bard calls for only 2 teaspoons of espelette. Sorry, honey - not gonna cut it for this pepper lover. In fact, the recipe in general seems written for someone who's already a pretty comfortable cook; for example, she asks you to brown the chicken in a skillet, but doesn't offer a suggestion for which fat to use. So, I've taken it upon myself to put her fantastic formula into a format that will hopefully work for you - it's a bit time-consuming, as one-dish meals go, but it's truly delicious, and it fed me for five days.

You can't beat that.

Poulet Basquaise
Adapted from Elizabeth Bard's Lunch in Paris

One whole chicken, cut into six pieces (or six assorted legs & thighs)
3 tbs. piment d'espelette*, divided
Kosher salt
2 tbs. neutral oil, such as canola
3 slices bacon, cut crosswise into batons
2 white onions, thinly sliced into rounds
3 cloves garlic, halved lengthwise
3 red bell peppers, ends removed, sliced into 1/2 inch rounds
3 tbs. sherry vinegar
28 ounces plum tomatoes, with juice
1 bay leaf
4-5 sprigs thyme, leaves removed and stems discarded
3 tbs. parsley, finely chopped

Pat the chicken dry and place, skin-side up, on a plate. Season the chicken, on the skin-side, with a teaspoon or so of the d'espelette and a pinch of salt. In a large saute pan or dutch oven, heat the canola oil over medium-high heat. Place the chicken in the oil, skin-side down, and cook until golden brown. Meanwhile, season the bottom side of the chicken with another teaspoon of d'espelette and a pinch of salt.

Turn the chicken and brown on the other side, then remove the chicken pieces to a plate to rest. (Brown chicken in batches if need be; do not crowd the pan.)

Add the bacon to the pan and cook over medium heat for several minutes, until most of the fat is rendered, but the bacon isn't quite crispy. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon and set aside. Pour off all but a couple of tablespoons of the fat in the pan and place the pan over medium heat. Add the onions and garlic and cook slowly until the onions are well-softened, about 10 minutes. Add the peppers, a tablespoon of d'espelette and half a teaspoon of salt. Continue to cook over medium heat until the peppers are very soft, about 15 minutes.

Deglaze the pan with the vinegar, and then add the tomatoes one by one, crushing them between your fingers as you go - and don't forget their juice! Return the bacon to the pan and add the remaining d'espelette, bay leaf, thyme and parsley. Bring the mixture to a simmer, place the chicken on top, and cover. Keep the pan cooking at a simmer for 30 to 40 minutes. Remove the bay leaf, adjust for seasoning, and serve.

I like to serve this with couscous, which does a great job of soaking up the sauce. Since I ate most of the stew well after it had been made, I added a few pinches of fresh herbs to the couscous to brighten things up.

Serves 4-6 people. The sauce is more filling than you'd expect.

*If you can't find piment d'espelette, hot (not sweet) paprika makes a good substitute.

Queenie's Treasury

Happy long-weekend Saturday, people! It's been a fairly busy day chez Queenie; I've whipped up some homemade mayonnaise (a new recipe - more on that later), given myself a manicure, and met up with a fellow blogger for a little sweet treat. All of this is my way of excusing the tardiness of this treasury post - I hope the goodness of the content makes up for the lateness of the hour!

First up this week, a fantastic resource for your next trip to France. I stumbled on this guide to Parisian restaurants, etiquette and norms last week, and I think it's a godsend for Americans headed for the city, be it your first trip or your twentieth. Seriously good stuff - especially the post about restaurant etiquette. Thanks for sharing your wisdom, Jake & Mo! (And thanks for an excuse to post a photo of Camille's superlative creme brulee!)

Next, something a little closer to home. For a couple of weeks now I've been following this cool blog called Scouting New York. Written by a film industry location scout, it's already opened my eyes to sights I've missed right here in my own fair city, and taught me more about those I thought I knew well. It's a ton of fun, and I highly recommend you add it to your daily reading roster.

Finally, another awesome recipe from Design*Sponge's In The Kitchen series. This week's recipe was for Boston cream pies, and man oh man do they look delicious. Yellow cake, pastry cream and chocolate glaze? Sign me up, because Beantown here I come.

The (food) moments that shaped my decade.

The aughts are coming to a close tonight, and I've decided to join the frenzy of lists appearing across the interwebs. Mine is a fairly personal, navel-gazing sort of list; instead of naming the biggest events in the food world in general, I've decided to focus on the most significant moments of my food- and drink-centered life over the last decade.

I turned 21 in 2000 and graduated from college in 2001, so the aughts have encompassed my early adulthood, my twenties. They're the years I spent finding my home (Hello, New York!), my career (user experience research and design, for now) and my taste (Sriracha, bacon and Vietnamese food, FTW!). In fact, it's pretty darn hard to distill the most important moments of my eating life down to a list of just ten top ones, so please forgive me for any that seem like I'm cheating by, say, essentially granting a tie to every single moment of my 2006 trip to Europe. Please?

All right, here goes!

Number 10: My first taste of Far Niente's Dolce.
As you all know, I am a huge fan of dessert wines both funky and sweet, and particularly of those that combine the two. Before I tried Sauternes or Banyuls, though, I drank Dolce - which is America's most delicious answer to the former. I still remember my first sip, which took place one boozy Saturday night in 2004, at Ouest with Nick and Louisa, when Nick ordered a 375 ml bottle for the three of us to share. I'd never tasted anything quite like it - syrupy, but not sickly, and infinitely musky and complex. I'd go on to tour the winery in 2006, where my mom practically had to restrain me from buying a whole case.

Number 9: Dinner at Alinea.
This one just made it in under the wire, happening as it did in November 2009. My first (and hopefully not last) dinner at Alinea was predictably delicious, and - despite the giant spoiler effect of following Grant Achatz's restaurant for years - surprising and exciting. It was a meal unlike any other I've ever eaten, one where craftsmanship was present in every bite and whimsy never once trumped flavor. A truly incredible experience.
Number 8: Discovering the wonder of Vietnamese food.
Gradually, over the last eight years, my Asian cuisine of choice has slowly shifted from Chinese, to Thai, and finally alighted on Vietnamese. The original Asian fusion, Vietnamese food combines Asian ingredients and flavors with French technique, and has given us such culinary delights as pho (a noodle soup like no other) and the currently super-trendy banh mi, a sandwich full of terrine, herbs, pickles and pate, served on that most French of breads, the baguette. It's slightly funky, thanks to the ever-present fish sauce, but also refined, thanks to a balance of flavors and textures. And I just can't get enough.

Number 7: Making banh mi at home.
Speaking of Vietnamese food - but, seriously, folks...I'm including this past summer's banh mi-fest not only because the results were delicious, but because I think it marks a culmination of the collaborative cooking and exploration Louisa and I have done together. We push one another to try new and different techniques and ingredients, using our time together each summer to tackle a couple of new projects. These banh mi, for which we made everything from scratch - even grinding our own meat - save the bread, are our proudest achievement to date. A repeat performance is planned, and we'll be upping the ante by baking our own baguettes.

Number 6: Ditching vodka for booze with actual flavor.
Just as there's a place for water in the pantheon of great beverages, there's one for vodka. That place, however, is not in a cocktail, and certainly not in a martini. If there's one thing for which my boozehound side is most grateful to the aughts, it's the cocktail craze, and, in particular, the resurgence of brown spirits and gin. Gin is just...better. As is bourbon. And dark rum. And...everything. Vodka is great in a Russian restaurant, served ice cold alongside caviar, but that's about it. I know some of you disagree, and that's your perogative. But, you're, um, wrong.

Number 5: Discovering Thomas Keller.
Obviously, I didn't discover Chef Keller, but he didn't mean much to me before, oh, 2003 or 2004, at which point I became obsessed with eating in at least one of his restaurants. Since then, I've cooked from three of his cookbooks (Bouchon, The French Laundry and Ad Hoc), eaten at three of his restaurants (Per Se, Bouchon and Bouchon Bakery) and become a devoted fan. His mashup of American ingredients and know-how with classic French technique may no longer be revolutionary, but it's still revelatory: I dare you not to fall in love with Bouchon's entire menu. Go ahead - in fact, I double-dog dare you.

Number 4: Joining eGullet.
I joined the internet food fray in 2005, when I became a member (and, eventually, a staffer) of eGullet. For a time, it was my absolutely favorite place on the web. Full of interesting, smart people who knew a ton about home cooking and the restaurant world, it was where I first stretched my food-loving wings, and, in particular, my food-writing muscles. It's where I learned about Sriracha and how to make puff pastry. It's where I learned how to take decent photographs of food. And, most significantly, the two week-long foodblogs I did there in 2006 and 2007 gave me the confidence I needed to start my own blog, which is coming up on its (gasp) third anniversary.

Number 3: Making my first mayonnaise.
I read Amanda Hesser's memoir Cooking For Mr. Latte when it first came out in 2003. It was a sweet book, but I was more interested in the food than in the love story, and was determined to become as sophisticated an epicurean as Ms. Hesser herself. Thus inspired, I made my first mayonnaise from her recipe, and have been whisking ever since. It marked the first time I ventured into truly classical, technique-focused cooking, and the deliciousness of homemade mayonnaise convinced me that (most) shortcuts are, indeed, for suckers.

2. My trip to Europe with Louisa.
Louisa and I spent two weeks in Prague, Strasbourg, Champagne and Paris in 2006. The trip cemented us as best friends, thanks in great part to the enormous amount of bonding we did over food and drink. Whether it was duck in a Prague pub, flutes of Champagne in a Reims tasting room, or steak tartare in Paris, the food we ate and the sights we saw created a common set of memories and experiences that will be ours, alone, forever. It also happens that the trip included two of my top meals of all time (at Chez Yvonne and Camille in Strasbourg and Paris, respectively), the best eclair in history, and the most satisfying doner kebab ever. All in all, two weeks that will live in memory - actually, in perpetuity, thanks to the internet.

1. Shopping at the Union Square Greenmarket.
Blame it on Dan Barber, Michael Pollan - whomever. For a myriad of reasons, I started shopping seasonally and locally a few years ago, and have no plans to go back. Oh, sure, I still buy frozen vegetables, and I do buy cucumbers out of season - not to mention the occasional flown-in fish. But, thanks to New York City's incredible Greenmarket network, I've been able to do a remarkable thing: support local businesses, reduce my carbon footprint, and make super food - all at the same time. Nothing's changed my eating habits more drastically in the last decade than my effort to shop as much as possible in Union Square (or at one of the other Greenmarket outposts around the city), and, for that I am grateful.

So, folks - if you've managed to stick it out this long - what were the formative moments of the aughts for you? Share in the comments - and Happy New Year!

Santa, baby...

It's that time of year again - time for gift-giving and getting, for wishes made and granted. I thought I'd jump into the gift guide fray and share a few of the items from my own wish list, along with a few things I find either essential or just too darn neat to pass up.

First up, a few items from my own wish list. It's a mix of the practical and whimsical, with a bit of Julia mixed in for spice. Clockwise from the top left, here we go. First, a DVD set of Julia Child's complete French Chef series from PBS. The original, and still the best, cooking show. Next, from Anthropologie, a set of their ikat bowls - gold-rimmed and covered in one of the hottest motifs around, they turn cereal or salad dressing into an event.

I'm still searching for the perfect cream-and-sugar set, and this version from Design Within Reach comes awfully close to perfection. I have a couple of antique mortar and pestle sets, but not one that actually works. I love the color of this Le Cresuet model. Next, also from Anthropologie, a cute faux-bois mug for my desk at the office.

Next, something every cook should have: a Le Creuset Dutch oven. I love my 7-quart Martha Stewart model, but I wouldn't turn my nose up at an oval 5-quart version. Preferably in Caribbean Blue. Two more items from Anthropologie, including a dish towel (they have the cutest ones on offer) and gorgeous salad servers. Finally, smack in the middle, a set of grinder attachments for my KitchenAid stand mixer (the better to make homemade terrines) and a set of fishy coasters. They're my color, what can I say?

Design Within Reach has been haunting my dreams recently, not least because of these tiffin lunch pails. I've been bringing my lunch to work almost every day for about a year now, and I think it might be time to graduate from leftover shopping bags to a real-life lunch pail.

I already have this one, and I use it at least twice a week - more during the holidays. It's a KitchenAid stand mixer, and it makes life worth living. If you bake, you must have this. If you whip cream or egg whites more than twice a month, you need this. If you want to bake or whip cream more often, you need this. Via its myriad attachments, the mixer can also become an ice cream maker, food mill, meat grinder...

As I said, you must have this. A perfect splurge of a present, and it comes in many delicious colors.

Speaking of splurges - if you can't afford a trip to Paris this winter (which I can't), why not do the next best thing and get your Francophile a box of Pierre Hermé's macarons? Various delicious assortments are available for shipment anywhere in the EU on his website. Stuck here in the USA along with me? Pick up an assortment at a Bouchon Bakery outpost (in Las Vegas, New York or Yountville) or order a selection from Payard Patisserie.

I'm almost as obsessed with books as I am with food, so it's no surprise that my cookbook collection is getting a little out of control. This year was a banner one for cookbooks; these are just a few of my favorites. Clockwise from the middle of the top row, we have a fantastic baking book from Cindy Mushet, The Art and Soul of Baking. The recipes in here run the gamut from simple to complex; it's a great manual for long-time or beginning bakers. Next, a second volume from Gourmet and (former) editor-in-chief Ruth Reichl. Gourmet Today was released just before the magazine was closed in early October, and Reichl spent the weeks after the closing promoting the book around the country. She truly believes in it, and she's right - like The Gourmet Cookbook, it's chock-full of the best the magazine's crack staff had to offer.

I Know How To Cook, by Ginette Mathiot, is a bible of French home cooking that's been legendary in France for generations. Clothilde Desoulier (of the blog Chocolate & Zucchini) just completed the first English translation of the book, and I have to admit that I can't wait to cook from it.

Thomas Keller's latest book, Ad Hoc At Home, is by far his simplest - though, given that this is Thomas Keller, that isn't saying much. However, I've already made a few of the recipes (notably the chocolate chip cookies), and I can promise you that anyone can tackle the items in these pages. David Chang's Momofuku cookbook, on the other hand, is not an easy one to take on. It's a fantastic read, though - part memoir, part cookbook, really - and is worth buying if you're at all interested in either Chang, the NYC restaurant scene, or really awesome pork buns. (One word of warning: the book is full of cursing. Being rather foul-mouthed myself, I like that, but it may not be everyone's cup of tea. Also, beware the ridiculously fawning introduction from co-author Peter Meehan.)

Finally, a book that really isn't a cookbook, per se, but a love story: My Life In France. It's the story of Julia Child's two great loves: her husband, Paul, and the food of France. This is the book upon which the (far, far superior) Julia half of the Julie & Julia film was based, and if you haven't read it yet, you absolutely must. It's one of the most inspiring, delightful things I've read since graduating from college eight years ago. Seriously.

I don't think about food all the time - really, I don't! This year, I've got my eye on a couple of definitively non-food gifts, all from Etsy (Of course!). This scarf from ArtLab is dramatic and warm - not to mention infinitely practical. It's big enough to be worn, belted, as a vest, or as a shawl.

Next, a gorgeous, unique ring from Toosis, a jewelry designer based in Istanbul. Made of vermeil (gold-coated sterling silver) and featuring a teeny diamond, a pearl and a raw amethyst, it's the sort of thing I can see myself wearing every. Single. Day.

Finally, a little lace-patterned ceramic bowl for the ring to live in. (It would also make a great pinch bowl for salt or pepper, come to think of it. OK, maybe I do always think about food!)

NYC Tweetup: "Julie & Julia" Take Manhattan.

That's right, folks! I'm hosting my first tweetup - and I'm hoping you'll come along for the fun.

On Saturday, August 8th, I'll be hosting a tweetup at an opening-weekend showing of the upcoming film Julie & Julia, a Nora Ephron adaption of two memoirs: Julie Powell's Julie & Julia and Julia Child's (effervescent, inspiring, transcendent) My Life in France.

So head on over the event web page (clickety) to RSVP. And if you're one of those happy-go-lucky types who don't like to plan too far ahead, don't worry - I'll be reminding you closer to the date, you can be sure of that.

In the meantime, do yourself a (huge) favor and read Julia Child's amazing memoir. And then watch the trailer. And then...cry.

See you there!

Happy Bastille Day!

Sophomore year in high school, my French teacher Ms. Williams started each week off by teaching my class one line of La Marseillaise. By the end of the term, the thirteen of us could belt it out like pros. In fact, the following summer, nothing impressed my French host family more than my perfect rendition of the French national anthem when we sang it on Bastille Day.

We Americans are spoiled by a gorgeous (if difficult to sing) national anthem; few other countries are blessed with anthems as stirring or evocative. However, the French come pretty damn close. Plus, they don't stick with the allusions to bloodshed you find in The Star-Spangled Banner; they go right for the jugular, with lines like "ils viennent jusque dans nos bras/égorger nos fils, nos campagnes" (Translation: they come into our midst to slit the throats of our sons and our wives.).

On this Bastille Day, I hope you'll enjoy a perfect croissant - perhaps with a little strawberry jam - while watching one of my favorite versions of La Marseillaise, from a little movie you might have heard of: Casablanca.




Photo of La Colonne de Juillet (in the Place de la Bastille) courtesy of Carlo Benedetti.

Fresh from the tree.

When I was 15, I spent the summer in France.

We (by which I mean a group of about 20 high school kids and a few brave teachers) started in the south, gradually making our way to Paris via Nice, Cannes, Avignon, Montpellier, the Gorges du Tarn and the Loire Valley. Most of the eight weeks were spent in various hostels, where we breakfasted on baguettes smeared with butter and jam, washed down with latte bowls brimming with chocolat chaud. We took language classes in the mornings and spent the afternoons seeing the sights.

That summer, I tasted my first Roquefort cheese (in a cave on the side of a Roquefort hill, no less), fell in love with perfume at Fragonard, kissed a boy on a dark beach in Nice, ate tarte tropézienne while walking down a cobblestone street in Saint-Tropez, and tasted my first Berthillon glace on the Île Saint-Louis.

Every single moment of that summer was memorable, but one sun-bleached afternoon in Provence stands out from the others.

Our two weeks in Montpellier were spent on homestays; we met our host families at the American students' center and fanned out around the city, nerves jangling. My family lived in a suburb about twenty minutes from the center of town, which was exactly as bland as it sounds. Over the weekend, we drove out into the country to visit my host mother's family at their farm in southern Provence.

All week, my family had been talking about the pool. "La piscine, la piscine": it was all I heard about for seven whole days. You can imagine my disappointment when la piscine turned out to be an inflatable kiddie pool - one that measured 10 feet across, fair enough, but a kiddie pool nonetheless.

Far more exciting to me was the farm itself. My host mother's brother took me on a tour of the fields, the enclosure where they kept the goats, and, finally, the cherry orchard. Acre upon acre of rich Provencale hillside planted with endless rows of cherry trees. I'd never been much of a cherry fan, having been raised by a mother who favored strawberries, raspberries and blueberries. But that day changed everything.

After the tour, while my family lounged in the pool, I walked back to the orchard and stood in the cool shade of the cherry trees. Their sweet, rich fragrance was overwhelming in the heat of the afternoon sun. The branches were dripping with ripe fruit almost ready for the season's largest harvest, which would happen over the next few days.

While I stood there, a cherry fell off a branch and fell to the ground in front of my feet. I picked it up; it was heavy with juice and piping hot from the sun. I popped it into my mouth and savored the scarlet juice and soft flesh of the cherry. Its flavor was complex - sweet, tangy and rich all at once, the juice stained my fingertips pink and dyed my lips crimson. I picked a handful more and ate them slowly, standing in the orchard, under the deep blue French sky.

To this day, I prefer my cherries warm, and leave them - by the bowlful - on my windowsill for a little while before devouring them. It helps recapture a tiny bit of that stolen moment, if only for a short time.

Two loves, united.

As you all know by now, I love France. This love started as a sort of pining, probably around the time I started taking after-school French lessons in the first grade. In those lessons, we learned, among other things, to count to ten by memorizing stories. For example, for un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, we learned the following story:

"One day, a cat wanted to cross a river, but didn't think it could swim across. A snake named Trois, resting in the branches of a tree on the opposite bank of the river, convinced the cat it could swim across easily. The cat believed Trois, began to swim, and sank. Repeat after me: Under Trois, Cat sank."

Lovely, non?

And yet, despite this gory tale, my love of France and the French language persisted and flourishes to this day, fueled in part by an ever-growing love of French cuisine. It's only natural, then, that the food-based French idioms Clotilde Dusoulier shares on Chocolate & Zucchini each week have me entranced. They combine a few of my favorite things. A few choice phrases:

"Aller à quelqu'un comme un tablier à une vache." Literally, "like an apron suits a cow," it's used to describe something that is bizarre or simply unbecoming on a person.

"Le ver est dans le fruit." Literally, "the worm is in the fruit," it means "the damage is already done," but it's so much more poetic.

Go check out the whole list, and let me know which ones are your favorites!

Cheating on Paris.

About six months before I launched Queenie Takes Manhattan, Louisa and I took a two-week trip to Europe. In addition to being a two-week long confirmation of the fact that we were destined to be best friends (we traveled together really, really well), it was a fantastic tour of some of Europe's most beautiful spots (Épernay excepted, though it gets a pass for the fantastic, sparkly hooch.).

We started off with five days in Prague, and knew we wanted to spend time in Champagne and Paris - but had no stop in the middle. Louisa wasn't terribly keen on Germany, so I did a little research and decided we would spend three days in Strasbourg as a way to break the journey from Prague to Reims.

We loved Prague, we had a fantastic, posh, tipsy time in Champagne, and Paris is Paris - but Strasbourg took us by surprise. It's an amazing place. Tiny but cultured (thanks in no small part to the university and the EU Parliament and Court of Human Rights), it's a gorgeous little mashup of French and German culture - luxurious but down-to-earth, fashionable but practical. It's flat and walkable, with a great tram system and miles upon miles of bike paths.

We had our best meal of the trip at Chez Yvonne, a vinstub (a sort of wine tavern) on one of the old town's tiny cobblestone streets. We also had some of the best pastry of our lives (Thanks, Pâtisserie Christian!), stayed in one of the most unexpectedly adorable hotels, and woke up each morning to the bells chiming in the pink - PINK! - cathedral.

In short, we found Strasbourg to be a most magical place - I'm still toying with the idea of moving there - and I would love to go back as soon as possible.

Barring that, I comb the interwebs for doses of Strasbourg-eosity whenever possible. This morning I came across this Flickr set (courtesy of Mike G. K.), and was promptly whisked away by a fantasy in which I decorate an apartment in central Strasbourg with finds from Paris' flea markets and some well-chosen Ikea bits and bobs, and then spend my days wandering Strasbourg's streets and writing about the city's magical charms. And, of course, get paid very, very well for it all. Sigh.

Thanks, Mike.

Photos of everything but the pastry courtesy of Mike G. K.'s Flickr stream.

Paris, through the eyes of a Parisian.

For those of you who - like me - just can't get enough of Paris right now, have a gander at Cyril Genty's incredible, inspiring photoblog Un Jour à Paris. Each day he takes and posts a photo of his adopted home, and the results show a far more real, grittier, and more beautiful version of Paris than we typically see on this side of the Atlantic.

As someone whose favorite parts of her own city are typically those where the beauty is cut with a little grit, I am breathless at Cyril's ability to document those same parts of his home.

Many thanks to the blog Inside Out, whose fantastic interview with Cyril pointed me toward his blog, and kickstarted my latest addiction.

Photo courtesy of Un Jour à Paris.

Parisian perfection, part two.

Hello, doves!

Just wanted to let you all know that the second half of my guest post for Jauntsetter is now up and blogged for your reading pleasure. Enjoy, and tune in shortly for a new edition of Queenie's Take!

Au revoir!

Well, golly gee!

Jauntsetter is my latest addiction.

A most fabulous travel site and weekly newsletter for New York women, Jauntsetter highlights travel deals, tips and tricks for ladies traveling from the New York area. Each week, they feature a different destination (recent spots include Baltimore and Fire Island) and a different Jauntsetter of the Week. The Jauntsetters are always cool women with great travel wisdom to share, and I love hearing about their experiences, especially those related to food (um, duh).

Earlier this week, Jauntsetter editor Dororthy McGivney posted some musings on traveling solo, inspired by her (current!) trip to Paris. I tweeted her to let her know how much I loved the post, and we got to talking a bit about great things to do in Paris.

And then, the most exciting thing of all happened - Dorothy invited me to write a guest post and share my Parisian favorites with Jauntsetter's readers!

The first half of my perfect Parisian day is already posted over at Jauntsetter, with a second post (all about ice cream, Camille and wine) planned for this afternoon. Go check it out, and make sure to sign up for Jauntsetter's newsletter while you're at it!

Julia makes me cry.

OK, confession time.

I just watched the preview for Julie and Julia, and I cried. Not a lot, but enough.

The movie is based on two books. One is a book that inspired, moved and still drives me (Julia Child's My Life in France), and one is a book that made me go, eh (Julie Powell's Julie and Julia).

Nora Ephron has taken both books and adapted them into one movie. It stars two of my favorite actors (Meryl Streep and Amy Adams), and it'a story about two women (one in her 40s and one in her 30s) finding themselves in the kitchen.

And so, despite my dislike of Powell's memoir, that's still a movie I can get behind, sight unseen. Though you probably won't want to come with me, since it appears I'll be blubbering away half the time.

Enjoy.

Like the corners of my mind.

See that, right there? That's a dish of baeckeoffe and a green salad, from my trip to Strasbourg in 2006. Louisa's making baeckeoffe tonight, and now I'm nostalgic. I can almost taste the tender, brothy potatoes and the knuckly portions of beef, all braised in slightly sweet Alsatian wine. Sigh.

When the weather outside is frightful...

Now that we're firmly entrenched in winter, it seems the right time for choucroute.

Lucy Vanel - she of the amazing, gorgeous, inspiring blog Lucy's Kitchen Notebook - agrees. Her latest post features a sublimely easy recipe for the Alsatian classic. If you'd like a bit more guidance, have a gander at these recipes.

Either way, go out, get some meat and sauerkraut, pick up a couple of bottles of Alsatian wine (I've had it from a reliable source that Gewurtztraminer is the best grape you can get), and settle in for a long winter's feast.

Mouthwatering photo courtesy of Lucy's Kitchen Notebook.

Champagne + biography = this reader's heaven!

I just saw this review by Roadfood's Jane and Michael Stern on NYTimes.com. Seems there is a new biography of the Widow (in French, Veuve) Clicquot that focuses "as much [on] Champagne itself as [on] the woman who helped elevate it to celebrity status."

Veuve is admittedly not my favorite Champagne, but Barbe-Nicole Clicquot was instrumental in turning Champagne into the international commercial enterprise it is today, and I can't help but be fascinated by that.

Sounds like my perfect book, and available at Barnes & Noble for less than 20 bucks (if you're a member, that is). Score!