The Oklahoman’s Food Editor Dave Cathey

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Adoring Dorie: Greenspan Has Her Day in OKC

Celebrated food writer Dorie Greenspan has been connected to Oklahoma for more than two decades, but until Monday she’d never set foot in the state. On Wednesday, she headed to her home in New York City with a passel of new friends, anecdotes and her very own day.

The author of 10 cookbooks, including “Baking With Julia,” “Baking From My Home to Yours” and the new “Around My French Table,” was in Oklahoma City on Monday and Tuesday for a pair of book signings and the opportunity to finally visit the hometown of her longtime friend, master chef John Bennett.

She arrived Monday morning from Dallas and was whisked to Stockyards City, where she lunched at Cattlemen’s Steakhouse with Bennett and a few friends, hosted by Cattlemen’s co-owner David Egan.

Egan introduced Greenspan to lamb fries before a salad with the famous Cattlemen’s house dressing. He explained the technique behind the restaurant’s garlic oil, which is the foundation for the secret dressing recipe. Next came sliced steaks served family-style with deep-fried whole potatoes, sauteed mushrooms and steamed vegetables.

Noticing a pair of cowboy-hatted gentlemen at a nearby table — one in black, one in white — she opined that a photo betwixt the buckaroos would be worth sharing with her more than 34,000 Twitter followers. When Bennett made movement to secure the photo op, Greenspan quickly retreated from her stance, begging him not to follow through.

As lunch turned into a dessert, chef Robert Dickson — who flew in from South Carolina for the visit — broke into his operatic interpretation of “Oklahoma!” While his thunderous vocals might’ve stunned fellow patrons, by the time his rendition had come to a close, the crowd had joined in and capped off the performance with applause. A couple passing through from Washington state even stopped by to thank him for authenticating their Oklahoma experience.

From Cattlemen’s, Greenspan stopped in at Langston’s in search of a Western shirt for her son in New York. Later that afternoon, her husband, Michael, arrived from New York to join the visit.

On Monday evening, Greenspan was hosted by Western Concepts at The Tasting Room. Chef David Henry interpreted some of Greenspan’s recipes from “Around My French Table,” while Clayton Bahr of Putnam Wines provided pairings. Henry’s showstopping braised Kobe beef cheeks were a highlight.

As Greenspan sat down to sign copies of her book, Western Concepts partner and master chef Kurt Fleischfresser asked for everyone’s attention, at which time he read a proclamation from Gov. Brad Henry and presented Greenspan a plaque to confirm Oct. 25, 2010, as Dorie Greenspan Day in Oklahoma.

Greenspan, clearly taken aback, sheepishly covered her face. But a smile broader than the cheese selection in downtown Paris couldn’t be contained.

After a few words of thanks, she returned to her fans, spending the shank of the evening signing books and listening to her many fans talk about what her work meant to them.

This exercise was continued the next afternoon at Full Circle Bookstore, where she appeared from 5 to 6:30 p.m.

Before she left, Greenspan celebrated a birthday for which Bennett had made a white cake with the book jacket of “Around My French Table” digitized upon the frosting.

Greenspan, a bubbling brook of graciousness and humility, said, “This has been the most extraordinary visit I’ve ever made in my life.”

All the pomp and circumstance was the issue of her friendship with Bennett, whom she met while writing the newsletter for the James Beard Foundation. She called Bennett before one of his dinners at the Beard House to find out about his menu, which she would find included, among other things, smoking tepees. She commented that his menu sounded ostentatious.

Greenspan said Bennett then told her something that she’s used ever since.

“He said to me, ‘Anything worth doing is worth overdoing.’”

Truly, the proof is in the pudding.

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Rangers in the Fall Classic? Are You World Serious?

Up until today, the Texas Rangers Baseball Club had two major impacts on my life: They are my favorite team in the American League and they introduced me to nachos

Up until I was eight, we lived in San Diego — thanks to the U.S. Navy — and attended many San Diego Padres games. If we didn’t go to the Boll Weevil before the game for a Steerburger, which was my preference,  I was bound to eat a hot dog. Probably peanuts, too. A box of Cracker Jack if dad had one too many Olympia Golds. Two Olympia Golds and I’d get a pennant or a helmet.

By 1977, we’d moved to Texas.  It took me a while to take a liking to the Rangers. What I didn’t know was in that same year the snack tide shifted at Arlington Stadium, an uninspired place for the even less-inspired Texas Rangers. That’s where stadium nachos were introduced and Rico’s cheese began a crusade to corner the softened, processed cheese market.

It took until 1982 for me to make it up from Austin to Arlington for a game. My uncle Ben, who as far as I know had zero proclivity for serving rice, ordered us some nachos. Everything changed. I already loved chips as a 13-year-old so this substitution of gooey cheese mixed with pickled jalapenos was right down my alley. I think it was probably that day I started loving the Rangers.

It wasn’t until uncle Ben died four years later that I became an addict for the star-crossed franchise. After his funeral, we stayed with my aunt Polly for a couple weeks to help her cope with the loss as they never had children other than black-hearted Scottish Terrier named Barty.

As my aunt and parents went over her options and helped her prepare her house for sale, I was left in the TV room, decorated in curios from Ben and Polly’s travels around the U.S., watching Texas Rangers baseball on the Gaylord family’s Channel 11. I watched rookies Ruben Sierra and ex-Oklahoma State starPete Incaviglia along with former Sooner standout Bobby Witt and knuckleballer Charlie Hough. The team brimmed with young promise that despite later additions like Nolan Ryan, Pudge Rodriguez and Juan Gonzalez would be a team known far more for its failures than its successes.

It seems like yesterday when fellow ex-Oklahoman Sports Desk staffers and Ranger fans Jim Stafford and Chris Maxon (Confession time, Chris: It was I whom you were bidding against for what turned out to be a tiny retro Rangers pennant. Didn’t have the heart to tell you, sorry!) would join me at a south-facing window in the Oklahoman building to listen to a scratchy radio broadcast of Rangers baseball, hoping to hear the dearly departed Mark Holtz holler, “Hello, win column!”

That hope became reality a couple weeks ago. Holtz, who died tragically of leukemia in 1996, wasn’t there to say it but his longtime partner Eric Nadel was able to say ”Hello” to the American League Championship Series on his behalf when the current Rangers started slaying Big League Baseball’s biggest dragons, starting with the Tampa Rays, who sported the best record in the Big Leagues this year.

And they did it with aplomb. As a long-suffering Rangers fan, I’m unsure how to cope with this team that remains calm in the face of adversity and ferocious when their opponents show vulnerability.

The Rangers turned the ALCS into an episode of Mutual of Omaha’s “Wild Kingdom,” the Rangers playing cheetah, to the Yankees gazelle while I was left a sputtering Marlon Perkins.

“See how the Rangers seize the Yankees by the throat and tear free the meat that is their sustenance.”

Bizarre.

So as the Rangers take the field for Game 1, I think I’ll do it with a plate of nachos and maybe a hot dog or two. After all, it’s what brought us together in the first place.

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Save the Pumpkin Seeds for Texture’s Sake

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Au Revoir, Paris.

Just a short walk from my hotel room, I started my last day in Paris with a visit to Notre Dame. With no preconceived expectations, I was surprised at how big this cathedral was. It seems like everything in Paris is bigger than I imagined.

Walking up to it, there is a square out in front filled with people. So many in fact, that the crowd draws in street performers for a chance to earn some coin. At one end a guitarist played up-beat tunes, in the middle was a living statue — a bronze woman dressed as an Egyptian priestess, and all around were street dancers. Plus, a magician.

As I got closer to the cathedral there was a small garden of low shrubs filled with hundreds of birds, all sitting patiently on the top of the bushes. An older man was handing out bread crumbs to children and would encourage them to hold their hand up with the bread in the palm of their hand. The birds were so tame and accustomed to being fed that they actually would fly right up and perch on your hand to eat the bread. I was so intrigued, I had to try it for myself.

Having fed the local aviary population, I went inside the cathedral. As I approached the front doors, I could better see how beautiful the architecture was. There were rows of statues, about two stories up, completely surrounding the building. Huge stained glass windows, intricately decorated with scenes from the bible adorned the upper arches.

Once inside, everything changed. The lights were dim, voices spoke in soft whispers and there was a palpable sense of divinity. A sermon was in progress, so I quietly found a seat toward the back of the church. The sanctuary was enormous, I could barely see the man giving the sermon at the pulpit. but he was speaking into a microphone so I could clearly hear his words. I didn’t understand a word he said, but for some reason I felt it appropriate to listen awhile.

Somewhere between the words of the sermon, the intermittent interludes of the massive pipe organ and admiring the beauty of the inside of Notre Dame, I began to notice something. I kept getting chills. Not the kind you get when you are cold, but the kind you get when something moves you. They were the kind of chills that make all of the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and goosebumps rise on your arms and legs. At first, I dismissed them as they seemed to just come and go. Not being an overly religious man, I was not expecting a spiritual encounter.

The sensations didn’t stop. Instead, they kept coming in waves and when I started to think about it, when I started to consider that maybe I was feeling the presence of something greater, I would begin to weep. After a couple of such bouts I had to force myself to think about something else because it was too much. The only other time I had become overrun with such emotion was at the birth of my son.

OK, enough of that. I just felt it important to share. After I left Notre Dame I headed up the street next to the Seine river, where I caught glimpses of river barges and even dinner cruise boats going by. Just a few blocks up the river I came up to my next destination, The Louvre.

Much bigger than Museum D’Orsay, The Louvre seemed to take up two city blocks. Shaped liked a horseshoe, the entrance to The Louvre is in the center of the horseshoe in a tall glass pyramid. The lines were not long, I waited, perhaps 30 minutes to gain entrance. After a 30 minute wait in line I went inside and grabbed a map to get my bearings. The variety of exhibits I had to choose from was daunting and being very familiar with art, I decided to go see the two things I knew I would recognize.

First on my list was Aphrodite, or Venus de Milo. It is the famous sculpture of the woman, representing the Greek goddess of love. She was very pretty, but personally, I think she would look better if her arms hadn’t been broken off.

En route to my next destination, I stumbled upon a really cool exhibit of Napoleon’s apartments. Just like it sounds, this exhibit was a recreation of the famous French tyrant’s living quarters, including a study, formal dining room, office and throne room. Everything was opulent and grandiose.

Ceilings were painted murals, all of the china was gilded and ornate and the chandelier in the grand salon was as big as an elephant. The throne room was my favorite. On an elevated platform was a grand chair and right in front of it was a large circular, wooden platform, separated in two down the middle. A trap door, I suppose, so Napoleon could deposit those who displeased him into something unpleasant below.

Not far away, I found the last thing I wanted to see, the Mona Lisa. I’m not sure why really, I don’t have a particular affinity for that piece of art. I guess I wanted to see it just because it’s famous. It is in a side room filled with other pieces of art, but it has a whole wall of the room to itself. It was also the most heavily guarded piece of art. It’s kept behind a glass wall with two security guards in front of it and stanchions that don’t permit you to get closer than 10 feet. It’s much smaller that I thought it would be, maybe only thirty inches tall. It’s hard to tell though because besides the barricade that keeps you back, throngs of people clamoring to get a glimpse make it difficult to see it at all. Oh well, I snapped some photos and called this museum venture a success.

Hungry and tired, I set out to get some quick and hot street food. I knew right where to go as I had stumbled upon this honey hole just the night before. If you didn’t know where to go, you would have never found this strip. It is a narrow winding one lane street. An alleyway, really, not far from St. Michelle fountain. It runs for several blocks tucked in between tall buildings, hidden from major thoroughfares and jam packed with restaurants, cafes, clubs and shops. There are all different kinds of shops here. There’s a pizzeria rustica, featuring beautiful thin crust pizzas with gourmet toppings like fig, prosciutto, watercress, Iberico ham and goat cheese.

There’s a gyro shop where they make the flat bread right in front of you and carve the lamb right off of the spit. There is a boulanger featuring baguettes, sourdough boules, brioche and pastries of every variety.

There is an Irish pub, a gelato stand, and even a Subway sandwich shop. The unique thing about these shops is that almost all of them have some type of window service kind of like a drive through. You just walk right up from the street, order what you want and watch them prepare it. My favorite thing here is the creperies. Every kind of crepe imaginable is on the menu. You can order a sweet crepe filled with chocolate and bananas, or pear compote, or caramel and creme brûlée. There are savory crepes, filled with ham, cheese or mushrooms. I went for a savory crepe of a pork belly, mushroom and Swiss, followed by a sweet crepe filled with hot pear compote and toasted almonds. What a great choice. It was hot, fast and delicious. I only wish I had known about this street from day one. But then, I might not have ever left.

Well this long post brings me to the end of my trip to Paris. In fact, I’m writing this on the flight back to the states. It’s an eleven hour flight, so I’ve got plenty of time. I want to thank you for following along with me this past week and I want to send out a special thanks to: Dave Cathey, David Jones, Dave Morris, Patti Hannan and Sheri Guyse. All of whom helped facilitate the process this week.

Thank you to NewsOK for posting my blogs and videos, and finally, thank you to my wife Jami and my kids Jude and Hanna for letting me run off on this adventure without them.

Until next time,

Robert

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Day in Paris Yields Art in the Sky, on the Wall and by the Plate

Well the food show is over so I’ve moved to a better location downtown. My new hotel is right off the Seine River, on the corner of St. Michelle and St. Germain. All I can say is wow! So this is what Paris is supposed to be like. My first day here I dropped my luggage off at the room and hit the streets.

First thing, lunch! I walked about two blocks and stopped at a restaurant called Le Clous de Paris. For a beverage I ordered a pint of French ale, and for luck i ordered the classic croque Madame. It was good, real good. Basically a ham and cheese sandwich, broiled with cheese on top, finished with a fried egg. Then i set out to walk the streets of Paris for a bit. This area is filled with shops, bistros, and amazing architecture.

As night drew near, I passed the only place I had seen that had a line of people waiting outside. Guess what it was: a 1960s-style diner, featuring hamburgers, fries, and shakes. I guess a good thing is good no matter where you are.

I continued on and found a place called La Cochonnaille, a little restaurant in one of the winding side streets that I had wandered into. I was not disappointed. I ordered a dark beer called Pelforth Brune, and for my meal, started with a cured meat plate that was ridiculously good.

For my main course, duck confit with fried potatoes. But not just any potatoes, these were thin slices, fried in duck fat, and tossed with garlic and herbs. I’m not sure which I liked more, the duck or the potatoes. I finished my first night with a bottle of Bordeaux Rose, and got a good night’s sleep.

Today I slept in a little bit, ahhhh, then off again, this time, with a specific agenda in mind. As I set out, the first stop was the St. Michelle Fountain.

Clearly a tourist destination, I stopped to snap a couple of photos. About as tall as a two story building, the fountain in the center of a square drew a lot of attention.

Then I was off to see was the Museum D’Orsay. Several people I have met here recommended this stop to me, and it was nearby. It was only about a 15-minute walk, and there was much to look at along the way, so the trip was quick. When I arrived, there was line at the door, so I had to wait. Out front, there were several large statues, a rhino and a horse come to the top if my mind.

I wish I could have taken pictures inside, I got to see so many amazing things. First among them, was a special exhibit by Jean-Leon Gerome. It was filled with several rooms of his work, many of which, depicted graphic illustrations of gladiators, fighting in an arena. But then, there were halls filled with the works of Van Gogh, Renoir, Rodin, Monet, Latousse, Cezanne, Manet, and many others. It was awesome to see paintings that I had only previously heard about, like the famous Van Gogh self-portrait.

My favorites though, were paintings done by William Bouguereau, specifically, one entitled “Dante et Virgile.” These were painting so life-like, it was hard to tell how someone had done them.

Afterwards, I stopped for lunch and had another plate of pate de foie gras (this is my favorite thing here), and a cup of French onion soup. Hey, I had to try the original, right? It was good, not great. I would argue the one at Red Prime Steak is better, but maybe I am biased.

Then on to my final destination for the day, the Eiffel Tower. It wasn’t hard to find, within about 2 miles you could see it coming. I know that everyone knows that it’s tall, that it’s big, but until you’ve stood underneath it, you really don’t know.

Just looking up to the top made my stomach turn, but this was something that my son Jude had talked about with me before I came, so i was not going to back down. I took the stairs so I could take the flight up at my own leisure. Big mistake. Just getting to the first floor of this thing, was 21 flights of stairs. By the time I got there, I was done.

I crept towards the edge, snapped some photos, grabbed a few souvenirs from the gift shop, then I was out of there. While breathtaking, the view from this height was not for me.

But hey, I’ve seen it now! It was cool! Very cool! And I’ve got a story I can tell my son.

So what’s up for tomorrow, the last day of my trip here? Notre Dame and the Louvre, and street food line up my agenda. I hope you’ll join me as I conclude this awesome trip

Until then, good night.

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The Show is Over, but the City of Light Burns Bright

The international food show is over. Five days of long hours, dicey transportation scenarios, and sleepless nights are behind me. So I want to look back and reflect on what I learned, what I experienced, and what I will take from the show.

First, I feel a proper introduction is in order. I want to tell you how this all began.

I was asked to go to this show by Barbara Charlet, who works for the Oklahoma Department of Agriculture, in International Developement. She is also involved with the organization called the Southern United States Trade Association. SUSTA is a nonprofit export Developement association that represents the 15 southern US states and Puerto Rico on behalf of the federal Department of Agriculture. Their purpose is to help promote southern U.S. companies and products in international markets and to help those companies find buyers in international markets.

SUSTA buys large booth spaces at major international food shows and allows it’s company members to share a section of that booth at these shows. With a larger booth footprint, you have the potential to draw a larger crowd, thus reaching more buyers. Once there, SUSTA representatives help these companies and buyers connect, Viola.

To even further be able to draw attention, SUSTA contracts with chefs, such as myself, to come along and demonstrate recipes using company members’ products for these potential international buyers. So that’s where i come in.

This week, at the show, it was my job to come up with recipes or prepare existing recipes, for all of the SUSTA companies that were exhibiting at this year’s show. As it turns out, I was the only American chef working for any U.S. company this year

So who were these companies?

Andalucia Nuts:-dried nuts, seeds, and fruit; Global Agro: exporter of peas and lentils; Crown Products: popcorn, sunflower seeds, condensed milk, millet; Fischer & Wieser: pasta sauces, salsas, condiments; Ford’s Gourmet Foods: flavored nuts, sauces, mustard; Giroski Agro Group: rice, oils, beans; Head Country Food Products:- barbecue sauce, salsa, seasonings; Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Magic:- blends of herbs and seasonings; Marky’s: American caviar; Rico’s: concession snack foods, you know them for nachos; Tasti D-Lite: low fat frozen ice creams.

What did I make? Some examples are: Vegetarian Lentil and Rice Soup, BBQ chicken pasta salad, great northern bean salad, garlic pork tenderloin, grilled chicken bruschettas with pomegranate molasses, barbecue brisket sliders.

We had a good turnout, considering the issues with local transportation unions going on strike, it was a great show. It was fun for me to meet so many people from all over the world, those who came by my cooking booth to try the dishes I made.

My favorite part about the show, though, were the breaks in between cooking segments where I got to walk around and check out all the other products that were there. It seemed to me, that beverages were a popular theme. There were hundreds of booths from every country showcasing some new tea, juice or wine. One in particulate caught my eye, it was a canned vodka-energy drink. That one is sure to be a hit.

Another favorite of mine was the meat hall. Iberico ham, potted foie gras, a giant wheel of mortadella, were some of my favorites. I also found it interesting to see the meat vendors selling horse meat. Obviously there’s a market for that somewhere, but I’m glad it’s not in Oklahoma.

It’s probably no surprise that another common theme was the all-natural and organic products. Everything from chocolate, tea, condiments, sausages, sauces, pastas, and meats were part of this group. In fact, there was an entire hall dedicated to it.

Well now that the work is over, it is time to have some fun. I have moved closer to downtown Paris, I am staying right by Notre Dame. For the next few days I will have the pleasure of really exploring the local culture and dining scene.

Tomorrow I plan to go visit Musee d’Orsay and the Eiffel Tower. Stay tuned for my next post as I talk about those and whatever great culinary delights come my way.

P.s. Last night, I had pate de foie gras, scallops with goat cheese ravioli, and venison ragout for dinner. It didn’t suck.

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Even Paris Isn’t Perfect; But When It Is…

Well, I’ve been in Paris for several days now. Been working long days, leaving before sun up and finishing work about eight each night. Precious little time has been left to properly explore the culinary mecca that Paris is, but I have been able to enjoy a nice dinner each night.

I’ve found the area I am staying in — Chapelle, near Gare du Nord– is not necessarily a food hot spot, but there some gems hidden in the haystack.

Most bistros have more or less the same menu: escargot, French onion soup, steak frites, mussels, and the like. There is a small wine list of mostly French wines, and an even smaller list of cordials and beers, but they are nice. They feel comfortable, like a great neighborhood restaurant should. They all overlook the street, they all have a patio, and the service is unpretentious and relaxed.

Now, that is true of most, but I have also had really bad, and exquisitely good.

First, the bad. Last night my travel companions and I were tired, and were not up for exploring for the perfect spot, so we made the mistake of settling for what seemed familiar, a clean, bright, chain-looking French steakhouse. That should have been my first warning; a chain is a chain, whether in America or in Paris. I’ll be honest, it was so bad I don’t even remember the name of the godawful place. I must have blocked it out of my memory.

Let me set the scene: you walk in to the sound of 1960s country music, it looks like a pilot version of Chili’s inside, and the person who greeted us was not smiling. Our waiter, however, was wearing a handkerchief and an empty gun holster.

As we sat down, I noticed that the placemats were actually our menus, and after scanning for a moment, I decided to turn it over, in hopes that there would be an English version on the back. No such luck, but I did find a wonderful coloring page with mazes and little puzzles.  Blecch.

Well, I was there, so order i did. I ordered a burger and fries, but not just any burger and fries, mind you. I ordered a French Beef Steak burger with pommes frites and aioli.

Some time later, our food arrived and against my better judgement, I ate it. It tasted terrible. The bun was hard and stale, the meat had a texture like tuna fish, but tasted bland and old. The fries were unseasoned and cold. The mayonnaise was warm. Not a good sign.

As if  the food wasn’t bad enough, the service was worse. I think we saw our waiter twice: once to take our order, and once to drop the check. Eager to leave, we dropped a credit card in anticipation of putting this night out of its misery.

Thirty minutes later the waiter took the card, returning 15 minutes to drop it off. We were all fuming by the time we left. Not that I would have bothered, but we never saw a manager to complain to. 

Tonight more than made up for it. We passed a restaurant that looked nice, it was full of well-dressed patrons, and I couldn’t find Budweiser on the menu anywhere. At the front of the restaurant, nearest the street, right as you walk in, stood a staunch looking frenchman, deftly shucking fresh oysters and clams. All around him were baskets of steamed crabs, langoustines, lobsters, and prawns. I knew right away that this was the right place for me.

We were promptly seated at a very nice table, clothed in fine linen. There was a charger at each place setting and a single flower in the center of each table. Oh yeah, the name of this fine establishment is Terminus Nord, I remember this one. The menus arrived and my heart skipped a beat as a separate wine list followed shortly behind. I can’t read French, but I do know how to navigate a wine list, no matter what the language. Besides, I already knew what I wanted, a nice Rose.

The dinner menu was as beautiful a menu as I’ve seen. Serene, proud, and seemingly filled with honor and tradition. It took me forever to order, there were so many great choices. I take that back, I assume there were many great choices, I could only understand about half of the menu, but the half I understood, was right up my alley. First, of course, were oysters on the half shell, served by the half dozen. Then there were seafood platters, pate, scallops, escargot, chestnut soup, just to name a few. Entrees included duck, lamb, beef, and sea bass.

I ordered a seafood platter for two and a plate of foie gras de canard. When the seafood platter arrived, I feasted first with my eyes, taking in a whole steamed stone crab, split in two, giant langoustines, prawns, clams, snails, and of course, several dozen beautiful glistening oysters in the half shell.

This, is what dining should be about. It was delicious, but I was eager to see if the foie gras would be as good; it was and more. It was cooked a perfect medium, served on a bed of sugared pears, with a red wine jus and sea salt. It had the perfect balance of rich, sweet, and savory.

Then there was dessert. I chose a chocolate ice cream, with cacao nibs, topped with a warm dark chocolate sauce, then heaped with fresh whipped cream. There was cocoa and crushed walnuts sprinkled over the top. Yeah, it was good, real good.

The service was impeccable, the best I think I have ever seen. I really wasn’t ever sure who our waiter was, all the staff wore fine suits, and several worked often at our table. A different person took our order, delivered our food, refilled our wine glasses, resilvered the table in between courses, dropped our check, and thanked us for coming. But it all happened as if our meal, the exact we had tonight, had been rehearsed by the whole team many times before. I left with a smile on my face and a very full belly.

The price of food here, so far, seems comparable to what I would expect in Oklahoma City. For example, my dinner portion of foie gras (about 4 ounces) was 23 euros. If I’m doing the math right, that’s about $38.

The main difference I have seen, is that the tip is included in the price of the meal. I assume that means that wait staff here are paid a nice hourly wage. I can’t help it though, I tip anyway, except for that one place, of which the name now and forever escapes me. Shudder.

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Risotto di Gallo

Source: Dave Cathey

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World Convenes in Paris for Food

 

Monday began SIAL, the international food show in Paris, France.
 I am here on behalf of SUSTA, the Southern United States Trade Association . I am working in their booth in the USA pavilion, preparing recipes and using their products to entice potential International buyers to pick up their product.

I have been to the food shows in Oklahoma City and Tulsa and I have even been to the National food show in Chicago. They all pale in comparison to this one, held at Le Parc Des Expositiones, north of Paris. It is a complex of exhibition halls about the size of two football fields in each and there are 8 halls.

In between cooking segments at my booth, I had the chance today to walk around a bit and check out the other exhibitors. It was mind-blowing! Every country you can think of has a section in the halls. I saw Uruguay, Mexico, Canada, Argentina, France, Turkey, India, China and the list goes on and on.
Booth after booth of companies showcasing their products. It didn’t seem to matter what language you spoke, every section had schools of translators, walking around waiting to help. In just the thirty minutes I had to walk around today, I saw more unique food items than in the last 10 years combined. Everything from commodities like grains and legumes, to beverages like beer and alcohol. It was the ultimate international food market with canned items, frozen items, dried items and so much more.

In the SUSTA booth, I had the opportunity to meet hundred of visitors today, all curious to see what this American chef was preparing. Many were thrilled, several just did not seem to understand the flavors of the south.
In all cases, I felt thrilled to be a part of this awesome experience.

After the show ended I was herded towards the train, like so many others, hoping to get a seat on the next departure. I finally found my way back to Chappele, the area of Paris where I am staying, and after a long day, it was exquisite and rewarding to enjoy a meal of escargot and lamb at a bistro near Gare du Nord. A bottle of young rosé helped a bit as well, I have to admit.

Tomorrow I look forward to the second day of the show, and hopefully, the chance to see a bit more of what the others have at their booths.

Reporting from Paris, France, good night.

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Living the Parisian Dream

After a layover in Dallas, several delays and a sleepless overnight flight, I have finally arrived in Paris! It is cool here, with overcast skies and beautiful.

My journey began today, with a 20-minute ride from the airport to Hotel
Faubourg, nestled in the Chapelle district of North Paris. The area
where I am staying is an Indian district with narrow winding streets, lined with shops, restaurants and various businesses. The smell of curry, spice and patchouli is prevalent.

My first mission today, after settling into my room, was to find a bank
or something similar to help me exchange some dollars to euros. I was
directed by a friendly front-deskman to a place called Gare du Nord, about two blocks south of where I am staying. As I got closer to this transportation mecca, my surroundings began to change. The streets became wider, there were more and more people and the Indian cafes were replaced by bistros and bakeries.

Walking inside this huge building, stepping inside Gare du Nord is like
stepping into an underground city. There were thousands of people in a
huge cavernous space that is not unlike a mall or convention center.
In the center were lined long high speed trains and all around the
perimeter there were restaurants, shops and kiosks.

My favorite part of this hub was the departure list. A gigantic suspended board measuring 30 feet tall and 50 feet across held the names of all the
various destinations with their departure times. Each character on the
board was on its own tile, and as the information was updated, these
tiles flipped over to reveal the new information, click-click-clicking
in perfect rhythm until the board was updated. I must have stared at
that for 10 minutes, mesmerized. After wandering around
long enough to find the currency exchange kiosk, I finally completed my
task.

As I left the building, I saw for the first time what amazing architecture made up the exterior of this awesome place. Two stories above the entrances, statues lined the walls, peacefully, as if blessing those who were about to depart on their journey.

After Gare du Nord, I drifted among the cafes and restaurants, examining
menus in search of what should be my first Parisian meal. After wandering and thoughtfully choosing, I decided bone marrow would begin my culinary adventure.

My second day in Paris was all about transportation. The government here is trying to raise the retirement age from 60 to 62, and many are upset about it.

So, besides staging peaceful protests, many unions are going on strike, not least among them, the transportation department. What does this mean for me? Waiting one hour for a cab, for starters. Also, the RER, the mass transit rail lines (think subway above ground), that connects all the major parts of Paris, is jam packed! I now officially know what it means to be a sardine.

On my trip back from the exposition center that night, when our rail car arrived at the platform, it was a mad dash to get to the door. Apparently it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. Show organizers are encouraging exhibitors to plan an extra hour or two of travel time to get to and from the show each day. Ouch!

I’d rather spend my time eating and drinking the great French beer….

Speaking of which, on my way back to the hotel that night, I stopped at a great cafe for a bowl full of mussels and a pint…..or two.

I’m living the dream. My next post is all about the International Food Show and I can’t wait to share it with you.

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