My most memorable dining experience while living in Italy for a summer was the seafood pesto ravioli that I had at a friendly trattoria in Genoa while visiting my former Italian professor. In fact, perhaps it's my most memorable dining experience ever since I mention it every time I have pesto pasta, which is pretty often. Since then, I've had good pestos, my favorite being the Trader Joe's store brand jar that's vibrant green and flavored to near perfection.

I've always wanted to try making my own sauce, but I wanted to wait until I had my own supply of basil. Last weekend Gui and I picked up a couple of plants to keep in our kitchen (I've since moved the chive plant to the outdoors for some much needed fun in the sun), and thus began my search for the perfect pesto recipe. Naturally, for my first experience making pesto, I chose the most physically-challenging (and most authentic) recipe I could find. It was a bit of a challenge, and I should have waited until I had a mezzaluna like the recipe calls for (I looked in two stores in our 'hood and didn't find one...booo).. But, it was worth it in the end. My hard work and sore arm were not in vain because I ended up with a very fresh and tasty pesto linguine. Next time, I'm trying pesto-stuffed chicken...or maybe I'll even give seafood ravioli a try.

And it's still this bright outside. We have something like 15 hours of sunlight everyday and I absolutely love it.

(FYI: The videos below are not the best quality and the sound can be a bit loud.)

Every year France opens its streets to musicians of all sorts for one full Saturday. Streets get jam-packed full of pedestrians, and at every corner a new genre of music envelops the block. After being comatose for a few hours in the early afternoon, we met up with some friends and headed out to the heart of Paris where we planned to catch some Rugby then follow the crowds towards the sounds of drums, amped-up guitars and synthesizers.

The first show we happened upon was drawing all kinds of foot traffic. It was some sort of orchestra-ish act, complete with trumpets, tubas, and other various instruments that had the street up in a roar. (I somehow only snapped video of the beginning/tamest part of the show.)



Moving along, we found ourselves in between two shows - one heavy metal act that was far too loud and totally unappealing to me and a strange, funky, not-sure-what-kind-of-music duo who had a more "mature" crowd engaged. Too bad the music from the "thrashers" across the street was trickling into the other band's show.



On our way to see a friend's band perform, we stopped to listen to a bit of jazz. It was meh.



The highlight of the fête was the last show we caught with an amazing singer (who we found out later is SIX months pregnant...and barely even showing!) and a band that included a very cool violinist, too (sorry, the clip sucks).



It was such a cool experience, and the fact that all of France opens its doors to showcase its talent is the most amazing thing. Sure, there are negative consequences to having so many people take over the streets of a major city...

... (and by the end of the night, it was at least three times as bad - hey, at least people were trying) but, it promotes the artistic abilities of every citizen, and it's what makes Paris such a cosmopolitan city. Here are a few more snippets from our day in the heart of Paris.

Despite the tantalizing options in and around our 'hood, we've been pretty pathetic about eating out at any new places since we moved in. I guess with yummy goodness like this:

and this:
...being produced in our very own kitchen, why eat out? (Baked Maille salmon with basmati and salad, that I made this evening.)

When Gui's mom and sister came by, we decided it was high time to try one of the many, many Asian restaurants around these parts. Within a one-block radius, there are seriously four Japonese/Thai/Vietnamese/Chinese restos to choose from. Gui and I tried the trendy Vietnamese place just a few doors down our street for lunch a while back, but left feeling overdosed on cilantro (coriandre) and not nearly full enough, considering what we paid. But, they do proudly brew Illy coffee, so I'll likely return when I'm out of or too lazy to fix my own cup of joe and in need of a quick fix.

This time we tried the "Thailandese" place just on the next block. I'd always been curious about this place - it seems really busy at times, but at other times, it's totally empty. It was empty this time, but after we were seated, our waitress/hostess seemed awfully busy. Only after a few people came and went did we realize that she was preparing take-out orders - and lots of 'em! It was a good sign already and so was the low-priced menu. I ordered the pho for a starter and beef and onions with rice for my main course. Big mistake. The pho came out in a bowl big enough to serve all four of us. It totally hit the spot, though, and I quickly made up my mind that I'd be back in ordering the soup on the next rainy day (shouldn't be too long now). Everything else was good, too, which gives me confidence in whatever else lays undiscovered in our 'hood.

Saturday was full of more happy chewing and full bellies. After skipping breakfast (just me, Gui always finds something with chocolate to eat for breakfast), our stomachs were rumbling right around noon and we narrowed our choices down to a "traditional" restaurant and a pizzeria. I'd been wanting to try both since my mom and I had walked past them during the lunch rush before we even moved into our place, but something about the "traditional" place pulled us towards it and we had a seat inside. Despite seeing crazy-big, butter-soaked steaks and platters o' fries, we both opted for the couscous. Neither of us was prepared for what we were served, but after a few "OMG"s, we dove into this:



Yeah, there're like TEN pieces of merguez there - and that was one order. You can't even see what I ordered, which were the brochette, and there are at least five under there. It's probably not even necessary for me to explain that this all made me really happy, and really full. It brought back memories of my comatose meals in San Antonio a few weeks back when I couldn't move and had to sleep sitting up. I vowed then never to eat that much again, so this time I only ate enough to knock me out for a couple of hours without needing a stack of pillows to prop me upright. This place is definitely another keeper.

I've been catching up on a very missed American TV show today, which I think has contributed to a reduction in my daily brain functionality. My mind doesn't have anything remotely clever to type, but I feel obliged to blog about a few things.

Nothing too extravagant happened today. I sat in front of Gui's computer watching show after show, pausing intermittently for food, bathroom and email breaks. My grand plans to go to the bank, run an errand to Fnac, go see Sex in the City, and iron were all shot to shiz after I discovered my shows were ready for viewing...SEVEN episodes!! Three of them are two-hour specials, and I somehow made it through almost all three. I finally had to peel myself away from the computer chair to meet Gui at his dad's place for birthday champagne with his sister.

We did have a visitor this evening, though. An old friend (also one of my witnesses at the wedding) who just came back to Paris from a six-month internship in Mexico City joined us for tacos tonight. Yeah, that was totally a coincidence - the taco meat had been thawing in the fridge since yesterday. I used one of the packs of taco seasonings I got back in Texas, which made all the difference. While slicing avocado, I somehow managed to slice a bit of my thumb, which resulted in quick first aid administered by my fast-acting husband (also thanks to my strategically-placed first aid kit in the kitchen). We enjoyed a nice meal with good company, celebrated with some leftover birthday champagne and endured over two hours of Croatia v. Turkey soccer before Turkey finally took the win in overtime kicks...err, something.

Now, I'm ready to hit the hay. We're planning to hit the streets of Paris tomorrow afternoon for some crazy street music festival (called fête de la musique) after sleeping in a bit. Hopefully, it'll turn out to be a nice, sunny day. It'll be great to finally enjoy a weekend that doesn't require a trip to Ikea or some other furniture store.

Below, a few pics from Gui's birthday.

I've never baked a bread before, so I've always been impressed when while staying with Melynda and Brian, there was already a loaf of banana nut bread baking away in the oven by the time I was ready to start the day. Brian always said it was easy to make, so I decided to give it a shot when I started getting sick of looking at my black bananas on the shelf.

As my first bread baking endeavor ever, I was a little worried about how it would turn out. I had all the ingredients I needed on hand except for baking soda. I knew from an earlier baking experience that I'd need to look for tiny pink packets when I went to the grocery store, but I somehow forget exactly how to say baking soda in French. I knew it was something, something chimique. So, when after searching high and low at least three or four times around every single aisle in the store, I still couldn't find what I needed, I asked someone. French folk don't really seem to be approachable, but I've figured out that all it takes is being really nice and smiling to get a positive and friendly reaction out of them. (I know I'm generalizing, but I've yet to find an exception to that generalization, so when I do, I'll be sure to let everyone know. It's pretty much the same idea with everyone, everywhere, except that in places like the US and Italy, people in general seem more approachable.)

So, I asked in my best French where I could find the soudre? chimique...je ne sais pas...le poudre pour faire le pain, mais pas le farine [in english: soudre (non-existent French word) chemical...I don't know...the powder to make bread, but not flour].

He responds, farine de mais? (Me, not really understanding) oh oui, oui, je pense oui. [Yes, yes, I think yes.]

(He motions toward the corn meal.) OH, desolé, pas ça. Il est un poudre chimique. [OH, sorry, not that. It's a chemical powder.]

(He's looking more and more confused.) Pas le farine? [Not flour?]

(Me, giving up.) Non, mais c'est pas grave. Merci beaucoup. [No, but it's OK. Thanks a lot.]

(Him, relieved that I'm going to leave him alone so he can get back to work) De rien. [You're welcome.]

I decide to take one last look at the disproportionately small section where the flour is to make sure I didn't miss anything. Sure enough, tucked waaaay back behind an empty box was an entire tray of levure chimique Alsacienne. I gave a little chuckle and snapped a photo so I could prove that the little pink packets were hiding in the back of the shelf for no one to find (except my memory card wasn't in my camera and I don't know where my cable is to connect my camera to the computer, so sorry, can't post the pic).

When it was finally time to make the bread, I realized I didn't have a loaf pan to bake it in, so I improvised and used the smallest ceramic baking dish I have. It was interesting to convert everything into grams. I used a hybrid of two recipes, and I know you're not supposed to in baking, but I tweaked the recipes a bit and even added a spoonful of Nutella just because. The end result was decent - Gui loved it , but next time I'm going to chop the walnuts up a bit more and definitely use a loaf pan - it makes a difference. And I might use a bit less sugar next time since the Nutella is so sweet. Overall, it was a success and the perfect breakfast this morning with a cup of pressed coffee.

hehe...Kanye says "rubbish."

Bon anniversaire, honey!

Last year we were in California, the year before in Texas, the year before you were in Canada, this year, for the first time in three years, you celebrate your birthday at home, in France. I'm happy to be here with you. I love you!