I'm just here for the food, part 2

So, day two in Paris.  (note to self- don't procrastinate.  It's hard to remember details more than 2 months later, and it gets harder to write by the day)

I woke up bright and early and headed back to my cooking class. This day we were baking.

We learned to make a basic croissant dough  and used it to make 4 different types of breads/treats.

Did you know it takes three days to make croissants?  Day one you just make the dough, then it has to rest in the fridge over night.  He even wasted some dough to show us what happens if you don't let it rest long enough.  Not good. 

Day two you add the butter.  This is the tricky day.  First, you have to have a nice cool kitchen, because you DO NOT want the butter to melt.  VERY, VERY BAD.  If it melts, it won't form those layers that make the croissants so flaky and wonderful.  I was told by my teacher that I was in trouble because I live in Phoenix. Anyway, you start by rolling out the dough in a perfect rectangle, then you roll out the butter into a perfect square that is exactly 2/3 the length of the dough, but exactly the width. Then you do some folding action and make an envelope, or a letter, I can't remember which, and then you need to roll out another perfect rectangle, and fold it again. And do that again, and again, and again.  And possibly again.  It's best to put it back in the fridge/freezer every couple of roll and folds to maintain the integrity of the butter.  When you are all done, you will have something like 60 layers of dough and butter.   

The next day the dough is ready to use.  You can roll and cut out triangles to make croissants.

Interesting fact, these croissants aren't burnt.  In traditional French baking, things come out a little more "rustic".  It's the whole "layers of flavors" thing.  The bitter taste of the darker bits, combined with the flaky yet softer inside, and the sweetness of the butter, make for an over-all "true experience".  It's hard to find them, (cause it takes three days, so most people have their dough shipped in) but if you stumble across a little place that claims to make their own and they look a little on the burnt side, chances are you've found yourself a gem. He even pulled out a traditional cookbook and in almost every picture of food in it, there were little blackened bits on the food. 

You can add chocolate to make pain au chocolat, (yes, that's the same picture, but now you are looking at the heavenly rolled up thing in the top right corner)

Then we rolled out the croissant dough,  spread pastry cream on it, sprinkled on some gingerbread-type spices and rum raisins and chopped up pistachios and then sliced it up into little wheels and baked it (sorry, no "after" pics)

And finally we made little danishes with pastry cream and raspberries.  He showed us how to cut and fold it to make a little bowl for the filling.  This was the teacher's before we baked it.  He made a little one, mine was bigger (more raspberries, but once again, alas, no pictures of the finished product) 

Finally,we made a focaccia.  I was wary about this one.  We started off chopping up green olives (I'm not a fan- the black ones in the can I can eat in one sitting, but any others cause my nose to turn up in disgust) we added that to the dough we prepared (a different dough, not the croissant dough) and added Parmesan cheese as well. Then we added the dough to a "greased" pan.  And by "greased", I don't mean "just enough to cover the bottom and sides"  I mean like half a large bottle of olive oil was poured into the pan. Then I was the lucky contestant who "won a spa treatment" and got to spread the dough out in the oil and try to make the dough fill out the corners.  It didn't work that well.  Although, after I cleaned off the oil that was literally dripping from my hands, they did feel pretty soft. So I did get a bonus spa treatment out of it after all.   The teacher cut some diagonal slits in it in a pretty design, then we let it bake.  One girl asked where the oil went (cause the bread came out pretty dry looking).  The teacher told us it "evaporated". 

So I was prepared to not like it very much.  Green olives + the entire annual production of virgin olive oil from a whole tree = not something I would normally enjoy. 

  

That being said, it was SO GOOD.  Especially when we spread raw butter made from unpasteurized milk with a little sea salt mixed in for good measure. (BEST BUTTER EVER.  I need to figure out how to get my hands on some of that.  Make friends with a dairy farmer or something.) And PS- it was still really good later that evening when it wasn't quite as fresh, and there wasn't even any butter. Once again, sorry no pictures. My hands were too busy (and dripping with oil) to take any "befores", and I was too busy eating to take any "afters".  Priorities.

So that concludes my culinary adventures in Paris.

I spent the rest of the day wandering around Paris.  I intended to spend the afternoon at the Louvre, but it was closed. So, I intended to just wander the streets on foot, soaking it all in until I had to catch my train back to Belgium. 

I did just that for a little bit, but then I got accosted by a gypsy and a con artist while crossing a bridge.  At least I assume that's what they were.  They made me for a stupid American, and I was caught in their clutches.  The first one tried to give me a "gold ring" she thought I dropped, and it was good luck if I gave her something.  (Money, naturally)  She claimed to be starving, and needed money to buy bread.  I gave her the coins in my pocket, which amounted to about 3 Euros.  By this point, I was a little annoyed I had been taken.  I knew she was a professional beggar, pretending to return worthless pieces of metal to their owners, then demanding a reward for her act of kindness.  Then, I fell into the clutches of a deaf mute (yes, deaf and mute) He was clutching a clipboard, with a piece of paper masquerading as a petition for the advocacy of all the deaf mutes in France.  (seriously) I am sure the guy was a con artist, but he had the perfect con going on claiming he was both deaf and dumb, therefore any arguments I had literally fell on deaf ears as he had me trapped on that bridge shoving the clipboard in my face, begging I write my name and country of origin in their correct spots. Then he pointed to the donation column and demanded some money. All the while creeping me out while he kissed his hand and wiped it on my shoulder like I was some kind of angel saving him from his wretched life. I handed him the smallest bill in my wallet, 5 Euros, (all my change having just been given to that gypsy)  and then he pointed out the small handwritten note written on the side of the paper "Minimum donation- 10 Euros."  He was really annoyed I wouldn't give him more than the five.  I finally got away, really annoyed with myself and with them (cause I truly believe them to be con artists- I saw several more people with clip boards going after tourists, and when I started to think about why the petition was written in English, and why there were SO MANY deaf mutes in Paris, I knew I was taken.  Don't get me wrong, I have no problems giving to the needy, but usually I walk away feeling good, not angry and annoyed and stupid and taken.  

I elected to spend the rest of my afternoon enjoying a lunch inside a cafe. I was hungry and mad at Paris and myself, and food was the answer. (plus I had to use the bathroom, and that's for paying customers only).  So after a very leisurely lunch of a ham and cheese crepe, a coke, and a lemon tart, I was feeling much better.  I should mention that my lunch was also pretty entertaining as I watched the waiters and waitress interact.  It was a slow day,  so they'd stand around and talk, (in French, so I didn't understand them) but then the waitress slapped a waiter across the face, and he told me it was cause she was crazy about him.  She argued that he was the only crazy one there.  (In English for my benefit).  As I stood up to leave, I tied my scarf around my neck (it was chilly out), and a waiter (the one who got slapped) stopped me and adjusted the knot of my scarf for me, (not that I did a bad job, but it was more like a friendly thing. Sorta, "There you go, now it's perfect."

And with an "au revoir", and my renewed faith in Paris, I headed off to the train station to spend the evening with John.  (seeing as it was our 15th anniversary and all)

John and I met up that evening for a nice dinner in Brussels (he worked all day so even if I didn't go to Paris, we still wouldn't have spent any more time together, in fact I beat him to the hotel, and I got lost on the way) and then the next morning he dropped me off at the airport so I could head home while he stayed and worked.

It was a fantastic trip in almost every aspect, (I was definitely lonelier in Paris than I thought I'd be) but I was ready to come home.  I missed my own bed, and especially my kids. Plus, I was a little worried for my dad's sanity after being a mom to my four rugrats for 12 days.  Any longer and I might have found them duck taped to the wall. I am pleased to report they all survived.  However, I think it will be a few years before I will be able to convince him to do that again.   Kinda like pregnancy.  You have to forget exactly how bad it was before you can think about having another one. 

Oh, and this last picture is for Nick.  They were packing up as I walked by, but I passed a whole orchestra (at least a dozen musicians) playing in the subway. 

I'm just here for the food- part 1.5

My cousin Jessica, left me a comment on my post about eating in Belgium and I thought it warranted an answer in the form of it's own post.

Yes, I did eat a waffle.  Smothered in dark Belgian chocolate and strawberries.  And yes, it was good, but, I gotta be honest, not great.

I've had better.  And readers in Utah will rejoice in knowing that so far, the best Belgian waffles I've ever had are in Salt Lake City. True story.

I am sure that there are some in Belgium that can rival those found at Bruges Waffles and Frites,  but the waffle I had wasn't one of them.  The toppings were delicious and plentiful, but the waffle itself left a little to be desired. 

While I am sure the ingredients were top-notch, the waffle was a little rubbery.  It was a touristy area, and it was a slow night because of the rain, and they had a stack of waffles waiting to be re-warmed when some tourist walked in and ordered one.

On the other hand, in Salt Lake, you can get a waffle made by Belgian, with ingredients imported from Belgium, made fresh when you order it.  Every time I go there, I ask myself why I am not eating there EVERY SINGLE DAY of my stay in Utah.  You can tell the owner takes pride in his little establishment and the food he serves, as opposed to some employee handing out waffles to the tourists who in many cases don't know any better.

Anyway, so that's good news to most people.  Odds are anybody reading this will find themselves in Utah before they do in Belgium.  And if you haven't been, do your self a favor and stop by and have yourself a waffle, and some frites. (fries) you won't be sorry.

Last Italy post- I promise.

But we still have Belgium and most especially Paris to talk about.

I've been home for over a month.  I need to finish this soon or I never will.

So we'll lump the last two locations in one last post.

First off, we spent the day at Lake Garda.  It was a pretty, picturesque (albeit touristy) little lake (okay, not so little ) where we spent the afternoon.

We walked around, took in the sights and the ambiance, ate crepes at a cafe, shopped, and skipped rocks in the lake.  Okay, so I didn't skip any rocks, I am deficient in that area, my "skipping" is more of a "plunking" so I watched Nolan and Mindy show off their skills.  John got my camera away from me in a rare moment and busied himself taking some pictures.

Later we drove to Milan.  Our flight was leaving the next morning from Milan so that's where we stayed.  We got there in the evening and wandered around.  I was amused by the fact that our hotel was on Via Giorgio Washington. As in George Washington - First President of the USA.  I guess we were in Milan after all.  It is considered one of the fashion capitols of the world.  Plain old "George" must not have been good enough. Ü

With very little time we visited the duomo in town.  Unfortunately, it was closing time so we didn't get to go up on top of the duomo.  I hear it is amazing walking around the spires and statues.  We did get to go inside and check out the stained glass and other artwork, and even a couple of dead people on displays (priests? bishops? cardinals?) While many other people felt the need to take pictures, I didn't.  **soapbox alert** While mildly interesting, it sorta bothers me how tourists wander around talking and snapping photos inside cathedrals or duomos or whatever they are called.   I may not have the same religious beliefs as the people worshipping there, but I think I would be really annoyed if tourists walked around my church talking and snapping photos while I was trying to worship peacefully. I may find dead corpses on display a little morbid and even a little humorous,  but I still think snapping pictures while church is in session is a tad on the disrespectful side. I do give huge points to the fashion police who stood outside the doors and turned away anybody who wasn't dressed properly. (no bare shoulders or bare knees)   stepping off the soapbox now...

As the duomo was right next to the galleria, we stopped inside to see the one attraction I found more interesting than all the high end stores-  the floor tile mosaic in the center of the galleria.  In the mosaic there is a picture of a bull, and legend has it that if you spin on your heel on the bull's testicles you will have good luck for a year.  You wouldn't believe the divot in the floor where the lower half of the bull once was.  My ever accommodating husband spun for me so I could take a picture.  (I've taught him well, once upon a time he would be totally annoyed everytime I asked him to pose for the camera)

That's it, I guess.  Except for the random painted elephant statue we'd see here or there. 

The next morning we said good-bye to our travel companions at the airport.  We were sorry to see our time with them had ended, we'd had so much fun with them and sharing all these experiences with them, but I think they were more than ready to get back home.  I think we wore them out dragging them all over the place.  But as they were headed back home, our fun wasn't quite over yet and we were headed to Belgium.  Since we were over there anyway, John was asked to swing by NATO to help out with some stuff.  And since that meant we would be on separate continents for our 15 year anniversary, we decided I should stay and hang out for a day or two. 

Of course, since he had to work very full work days to get everything done, and since there isn't much to see and do in Brussels, especially since I've already been there before, and since Paris was a short train ride away, after spending an evening wandering around Brussels together, I headed off on and adventure of my own for a couple of days.

  

To be continued...

The Dolomites

The Dolomites are the the southern part of the Alps mountain range in the Northern part of Italy.  I was excited to see this area for a couple reasons- for starters, I totally fell in love with the Alps a year ago when I visited Austria and Germany.  {go here and here and here and here and here to read about that}   Secondly,  (and I found this totally fascinating) without actually crossing a border, it's like you're visiting an entirely new country- namely Germany or Austria (I guess you could take your pick.)  

Years and years ago, that area was part of Austria,  but then wars and border disputes landed this area in Italy.   The people weren't thrilled to be Italians, and were given a choice to stay and assimilate, or move North.  Most of them elected to move North, but before they could, World War II broke out, thus effectively stranding them in Italy. 

They've managed to maintain their German/Austrian roots while living in Italy.  The street signs are in both languages (German and Italian), but the food, architecture, and even clothing are definitely more German/Austrian in design.  (think sauerkraut and leiderhosen)

We spent a day exploring the region.  First we parked in Bolzano,  (bought some warmer wear, as the temperatures were decidedly cooler) then rode the funiva (tram) up the side of the mountain to the smaller little town of Oberbozen. 

We walked around, enjoyed the scenery, and stopped at a cafe and warmed up with some hot cocoa.

Then we caught the little train to the next town over and did it all over again.  (including the hot cocoa) And yes, for whatever reason I can't recall, I elected to wear flip-flops that day instead of real shoes.

After we finally made it back to Bolzano, we headed on up the mountain to the next town, (I think it was Castelrotto) where we had dinner.  I thought the food was excellent and a nice change from pizza and pasta.

(On a side note, one thing I'd heard before, and totally experienced first hand, is to find places where the locals eat, cause then you know it's good.  Restaurants that are in tourist-heavy places, usually aren't that great. Ask around, and be willing to walk a little farther, and you'll most likely eat better.) 

  

While loving every minute of Italy, every big city, every famous sight on the itinerary, it was really nice and refreshing to do something completely different.

Verona

If you saw the movie, (Letters to Juliet) be prepared for a bit of a disappointment.

(Then again, if you think real life should be like it is in the movies, you're probably used to disappointment. Just sayin')

I mean, there is a courtyard with a balcony in Verona, that they are saying is the Juliet balcony.  You know, if Juliet were real and all.  And I think that was actually the same courtyard they used in the movie (I could totally be wrong though).

But that's kinda where the similiarities end.  Instead of lovely young ladies weeping and sighing and writing lovely letters to Juliet asking her (or her imaginary secretaries) for love advice, you have bus loads of Japanese tourists. (I've heard it's a very popular stop) And instead of the actual letters stuck in the cracks you have graffiti.  Layers upon layers of people who felt the need to write their names in Sharpies upon the rocks.  I do remember seeing a post-it, but that's about as good as it gets.  And for some reason leave their gum as well. (that was pretty gross) 

Oh, and there is a statue of Juliet. 

If you rub her breast, (and apparently get a picture of yourself doing it) you are guaranteed to find true love. 

I was able to talk John into standing next to Juliet, but he didn't feel the need to rub her boob claiming he had already found true love. (me) He's kinda mushy like that.

Venice

I loved Venice. Alot. There's just something about it. 

I've heard some people that it was anti-climatic for them.  Just a lot of old run-down buildings. And water. And boats.  And it can be crowded and touristy.

True.... But... It's hard to explain.

It wasn't too touristy/crowded when we were there.   I've heard it can be crazy. People packed like sardines.  It was definitely busy, but not insane.

I am fascinated by the history of the place.  An entire man-made island built so people could escape invading armies, then became one of the greatest and most powerful cities during it's prime. 

I also just loved sightseeing and wandering around.  I loved the ordinary as well as the grand.

So, you have the Grand Canal that curves through the island, lined with the palaces of the rich merchants.  

Only a couple of bridges cross this canal, (actually four, I think?) the most famous being the Rialto.

And you have the teeny little back alleyways, which were easy (and fun) to get lost in.

Getting lost kinda did Nolan in a couple of times.  He just dropped dead on the ground. Twice.

There are a couple other little islands near Venice.  We visited Murano-  Venice is famous for it's glass blowing, but long ago, they decided that the glass blowing factories were too much of a fire hazard, so they all got relocated to Murano.  You can go there and check out the countless little shops with their displays and even take in a demonstration.  That was pretty cool.

I also thought this was cool- we stumbled upon this piece of art, up close it's a bunch of painted eggs,

and if you stand back, it becomes something more.

One thing I did not do was go on a gondola ride.  Crazy, I know, right?  Here's the thing though- it costs alot.  Like 100 euros. And if you want them to sing, then it's a lot more. (like another 100)  And it just felt so, so touristy.  Like a ride at Disneyland, or something.  I wanted to know that if I was gonna spend that much money, I'd want an unforgettable experience, and I don't mean because one of those big Vaporetti (the boat version of public transportation on the Grand Canal) ran over our Gondola (we totally saw that almost happen).  And so I elected to spend my hard earned Euros on some handblown glass, and cookies at a bakery, and presents for the kids.     

Am I crazy?  Probably.   Oh well.  Hopefully I will have the opportunity to make that decision again and again in the future. Who knows? I never thought I'd get to go in the first place.