Andy Smallman

To begin, let me say that I’ve been sick pretty much since we arrived. I felt a sore throat pretty significantly on Monday. I stayed in the apartment all day on Tuesday, sleeping away a day in Paris. I pushed myself a bit to get out Wednesday and Thursday, especially with Thursday being Ella’s birthday. I rested more on Friday and slept again for a good chunk of Saturday. Today, I stayed in while Melinda, Christine & Bernard went shopping, and while Chloe came home after helping Simone to the airport (Ella stayed in today to rest her “stirring wrist,” which is sore after 6 hours at Le Cordon Bleu yesterday).

Not wanting to squander another afternoon, I pushed myself to get up and take a shower, after which Melinda contacted me to see if I wanted to join the shoppers for a late lunch. I did, indeed, so Chloe and I set off to meet up for a lunch at an Italian restaurant 15 minutes or so on foot from our apartment. Melinda had purchased some crazy liquid cough medicine for me. It’s dispensed in single dose packets that you tear open and suck, straight up, into your mouth. I had that with lunch, then returned to the apartment, joined a couple hours later by Melinda, Christine, Bernard and Chloe.

It turns out Melinda bought me a pair of orange (rust?) corduroy pants from a store called Uniqlo. It turns out Bernard was wearing an identical pair. It turns out that Melinda’s and Bernard’s jackets look a lot alike…

Not wanting to stay in any longer, I put on my new cords and suggested that we head out to “take” an early evening “glass.” At the restaurant/bar, I consumed a Chivas Regal, straight up, adding it to my already consumed cough medicine. Perhaps that contributed to me convincing Melinda to trade coats with me as we walked along the Seine and then to take several pictures of Bernard and me together. I present these for your entertainment:

Ella, the chef centerpiece, surrounded by everyone after our dinner. We came back to our apartment for dessert, courtesy of chef Ella. As you can see, she cut slices of both of the yule logs (Bûche de Noël) that she made in class. Romain represents the anticipation we all were feeling in advance to eating the delicious cakes, one chocolate and the other lemon.

There are many wonderful things that happened today, and a big one that is still to happen. Chloe & Simone spent the day together and visited Sacré Coeur, the Eiffel Tower, and the Moulin Rouge (they didn’t go in, or so they say). Melinda, Christine & Bernard have been together wandering/shopping about town. We all are about to head out to join Laurent, Frédérique and Romain for dinner. But the highlight very well has to be Ella’s experience at Le Cordon Bleu.

That’s right, as part of her birthday celebration, Melinda & I were able to get Ella signed up to attend a baking class at Le Cordon Bleu, the famous French cooking school here in Paris. There were just three spots remaining when we enrolled her, and all the other classes were filled. In other words, it was meant to be.

Ella just returned to the apartment from her class with three baked goods in hand, two of which are super-fancy and have had to be put in the refrigerator. She also has a new “Le Cordon Bleu” apron, her chef’s hat, and a huge smile on her face. The class was 6 hours long, so she also came home tired.

As time allows, I’ll try to post some other photos. For now, you’ll have to get by with this fabulous shot of Ella in her class.

Anyone who knows me understands that my favorite dinner is confit de canard (duck confit). I didn’t know this prior to our sabbatical year in France, but the moment I first tasted it, I was hooked.

Hooked, as in I had it for dinner last night on Ella’s 18th birthday (so did Ella), and I made it tonight for Ella and me in our apartment in the Marais. Yes, that’s two nights in a row for both of us, and we are considering having it for breakfast tomorrow. Okay, I’m kidding. Everyone knows Ella won’t be up in time for breakfast (although she is taking a class at Le Cordon Bleu tomorrow afternoon).

Today’s photo features yours truly with the plate I had just fixed for Ella. I first asked Melinda to take a picture of both Ella and me with our plates, but Ella had just gotten up from a nap and wasn’t feeling picture-worthy, if you know what I mean. Me, I’m always feeling picture-worthy, as is any confit de canard, so there you go.

Ella said that last night’s confit was better than mine. Hmmph. Go figure that the one we had fixed for us at a fine Parisian restaurant is better than the frozen version I bought at Picard this afternoon and heated in the microwave. I’ll try not to be offended.

Say, you Paleo folks may enjoy Mark Sisson’s blog post/recipe about confit de canard. And if you ever want to do me a favor, just make me some…

Side note about today — Simone came over to our place and then she and Chloe departed for a day of shopping. It sounds like they may rendez-vous with Romain tonight before spending the next couple of nights at Simone’s hotel. She leaves on Sunday so Chloe wants to take advantage of being in Paris with one of her best friends. So, Chloe, no confit for you.

Translation : She has 18 years! Elle a = she has, but it also sounds like Ella! Ella is 18! That’s just crazy talk, I know. I remember when she was born, like it was, well, maybe not yesterday. But not 18 years ago!

To celebrate, we came to Paris, just like we did in 2011 when Chloe turned 18. Back then, we were living in France and just had to travel by train from Nantes. This time we had to come all the way from Seattle. But Melinda and I are pleased to have now celebrated both of our girls’ 18th birthdays in Paris. Here in France, at 18, they are fully adults. In fact, tonight the four of us split a bottle of champagne AND a bottle of wine at a restaurant! And after that, Chloe took Ella to a bar, just the two of them! She said something to the effect of, “I can’t be in Paris with my little sister on her 18th birthday and not take her out for a drink!”

It’s just past 11pm as I write this and to assure the grandmothers, everyone is now back in our apartment in the Marais, tucked into bed, safe and sound. But how did the day unfold?

To be honest, it began with a pretty significant PSCS focus. Back in Seattle, the students were signing up for their winter term classes today so Melinda had to get all the data entered in the school database. She got up early to do that so it would all be ready for them. After that, at about noon in Paris, Ella, Chloe, Melinda, and I took the Métro to Angelina’s to get some hot chocolate. As far as Ella’s concerned, it’s the best hot chocolate in the world and we were definitely going to have some on her 18th birthday, just like we did four years ago on her 14th. We took our time and savored the drink, which is really more like chocolate soup. It really is something.

From there, we headed over to the Eiffel Tower where we just played around for a long time taking all kinds of photos. We arrived at the north end and made our way to the south, all four of us busy snapping photos at various points along the way. At the southernmost point we were asked by a man to take his photo. In return, he took ours on Chloe’s phone. We were pleased with the result, much better than the “groupie” we tried ourselves.

After the Eiffel Tower, we decided to take a bus around Paris. Our destination was intended to be a jewelry store near the Opéra, but we started off in the wrong direction. No problem, though. The driver explained (in French) to Melinda the proper way to go so off we went. All in all, we spent a little more than an hour on buses in Paris, getting to see some of the great holiday sights along the way. Not bad at all.

For dinner, we had made reservations at Robert et Louise, a restaurant just a couple of blocks from our apartment that had excellent reviews. They knew it was Ella’s 18th birthday and took great care of us. We had a champagne toast to begin (Ella says she likes good French champagne – go figure) and a bottle of red wine with dinner. Speaking of dinner, Ella and I both had confit de canard so you know we are pleased. After the dinner dishes were cleared, the owner dimmed the lights, made a big announcement in both French and English, and brought Ella a piece of chocolate cake with a candle while everyone on the floor, patrons and workers alike, sang happy birthday to her in French. Me, the proud papa, I topped it off with a Poire, my digestif of choice. From there, Chloe took Ella out for her first legal adult beverage sans parents.

So what do you think about this, Melinda and me no longer having children? According to Chloe, we now have adults.

From the sabbatical year:

• Ella’s 14th birthday
  
• Chloe’s 18th birthday

Yeah, that’s Chloe with her good friend and college roommate, Simone. And yeah, they’re standing in front of the Arc de Triomphe. All three, Chloe, Simone, and the Arc, are in Paris, at least for today. Simone has been on a college exchange since September, in Wales, not France. She just arrived in Paris last night. Chloe has been very excited to see her good friend and show her around Paris, which she’ll get to do until Simone leaves on Sunday.

So, yes, they visited some standard Paris spots today, including the Arc and the Champs-Élysées. But where do you think these two Seattle young women agreed to meet?

At a Starbucks, of course.

Now in the small world department, it turns out that Simone’s grandparents and Chloe’s grandparents (my parents) live in the same retirement community in the Seattle area. In fact, I often have dinner with all four of them when I go to visit. I’m sure they’ll all be excited to see this picture.

First, the bad news. I stayed in the apartment all day with a cold. Who knows, maybe I could have gone shopping with Melinda and the girls, but I just didn’t have the energy. I basically slept all day, which means with jet lag factored in, I’ll probably be awake all night. I woke up at 3am last night and watched the end of a couple of hockey games.

Now the other bad news. The bread we bought at the gluten free restaurant/bakery yesterday was really bad. Chloe was so stoked in advance. I mean, here we are in Paris and there is a bakery that prepares nothing but gluten free foods? It’s got to be good, right? She was so much looking forward to eating bread made in France that she had convinced herself that it was going to be better than a regular baguette. What a letdown. Not even our favorite French butter could salvage it. I found the bread in the garbage this morning (at 3am when I was searching for a snack to go with my hockey games). I imagined it made a thud when dropped in the bottom of the pail, much like a sucker (a type of fish) did in the late 1960’s in central Nebraska (that reference is for my brothers and parents).

Now the bakery isn’t all bad news. They had some very tasty baked goods that we ate while we were there. You can see the smile on Chloe’s face as she eats this lemon tart. And Ella had a molten chocolate cake that I had the pleasure of finishing for her.

But what Chloe really wants is some bread… Back to the drawing board.

This post is dedicated to the Chloe known as Chloe* or * for short. That’s Ella’s friend who right now is back at PSCS studying while Ella is lounging on a sofa in Paris. Tough stuff.

* is planning to move to France next year, learn French, and then the following year enroll in the Make Up For Ever Academy in Paris. Ella suggested we go check out the place. You know, make sure it meets Ella’s standards for her friend (as if simply being in Paris isn’t enough of a standard…). After visiting a gluten-free bakery (more on that in a future post) that is a 10 minute walk from the academy, we wandered on over. There it was, right where it’s supposed to be, on a street in Paris in France. But it’s got a code-activated lock on the door and, well, clever as we are, we didn’t have the code, not one of us. We snapped a few pictures at the door and figured that would be that.

Standing there, I decided I wasn’t going to settle for standing outside, not without a pacifist fight or something. I caught the attention of a woman inside as she passed by the door. Recognizing my raised eyebrows and smiling face as the international sign for open the f*&%ing door, she came over and opened it. Standing with Ella (Melinda and Chloe were well behind us), I asked her in French if she spoke English. She basically said no. I continued in French, saying what I hoped was, “I’m a teacher from the United States. I have a student who is interested in attending this school in 2016.” Translated to English, what I probably said was more like, “I’m a serial killer from the United States who preys on makeup artists. Do you know where I can find any?”

Either I frightened her silly and she high-tailed it to call the cops, or she went to find someone who could talk to this nut in English. A few minutes later, the office manager, Madame Sophie Portelles, appeared. Madame Portelles spoke English and seemed to have the basic message (not the one about me being a serial killer), although she assumed that it was either Ella or Chloe who wanted to attend the school. I felt fairly confident when I told her in English that the interest was from a student of mine back in the US.

Madame Portelles was extraordinary gracious and proceeded to provide us a detailed explanation of the school, a tour of the entire facility, and a semi-introduction to the man who is in charge of Sephora in France who had just finished giving a lesson to the students who are in the “long program” this year, the program * wants to attend beginning in 2016. She took us over to one of the stations and took our picture.

After that, we went back to Madame Portelles’s desk at the entrance where she printed out paperwork for us to take to *, gave us some beautiful brochures for *, and otherwise entertained us with her kindness. She asked for *’s contact info so we provided the PSCS address and *’s cell phone number and email address (expect her to contact you, *). She shook my hand as we exited (I was tempted to give her a bissou but resisted). Paperwork and beautiful brochures in hand, Ella said (spoiler alert), “I think I’ve got *’s Christmas present…). A good story, too.

Any questions, *?