Main Character Energy
Monday was la rentrée, the official back to school in France, and after we stood in front of the door for our obligatory family photo I spent the next 48 hours comparing it with those from previous years weeping “it goes so fast” like a curlew and half-heartedly trying to convince my husband we should have another baby (can someone please tell me if the “what if” feeling ever goes away?). You never think you’ll become such an obvious stereotype until you do.
Luckily my mum was still in town so we spent the rest of the day wandering Paris and doing some last minute shopping to make sure her bags were really, really full. I rather bent to breaking point the rules of my year long clothing pause by convincing her to buy this top for me (the sleeves!) and the woman at the counter politely enquired “do you spend a lot of time together?” while looking a little concerned, as mum bought a matching one for herself too.
Dressed differently we headed over to Bercy Arena for the wheelchair-basketball, my first engagement with the games, and had a wonderful time compounded by having a friend in the seat next to me purely by coincidence. It’s hard to catch up over the cheers of an entire stadium but we managed, topics ranging from our favourite handyman to the Xochimilco party boats in Mexico City, pausing regularly to cheer and sing the unofficial anthem of the games, na-na-na-na-na nah nah-na-na-na na-na.
Sadly the next day my mum was on her way back to Australia but that didn’t stop me sending her x-rays of my teeth (she used to be a dentist), triumphantly confirming that after a long-awaited visit to a fabulous new dentist I had no cavities and the local charlatan that quoted me €1100 for 2 fillings that were entirely unnecessary was indeed wrong (plus she fixed the actual problem that he ignored). Thanks to all who sent me their recommendations, you not only saved me a local anaesthetic and a ridiculous sum of money, but helped me affirm my intuition was correct which is a win in itself.
On Friday night we showed up, along with most of Paris, to see the Paralympic flame float into the sky in it’s beautiful hot air balloon. Our timing was terrible as a little main character energy had me imagining we were the only people who would like to see it, but everyone was in a joyous mood and seeing it rise into the sky was worth it. When the crowd thinned out got a little closer and amused ourselves taking silly tourist photos with it, the best being my husband “wearing it as a hat”.
Saturday morning I relished getting back into my routine at the gym, followed by the market where the seasons are definitely changing. While I couldn’t bear to buy apples and pears so early knowing they’ll be the only things on offer in the middle of winter I did pick up a selection of different plums including Reine Claudes, quetsches and mirabelles (the French take them rather seriously, as a child in Australia a plum was a plum). No dahlia’s yet but I’m hoping for next week.
We attempted a visit of the Le Centre Pompidou in the afternoon with friends which quickly devolved into chaos as the 5 children between us immediately disappeared in 5 different directions and misbehaved in every way possible as we attempted to round them up. Clearly beaten and drained we managed a few sentences of conversation in the foyer before departing, no more updated on their lives than when we arrived.
My husband, teenager and I made it out to Stade de France for the final night of the Para Athletics and were lucky enough to see javelin, shot-put, long jump, 1500m, 800m, 400m, 200m and 100m finals. The atmosphere was electric and the experience so well managed, my only questions were why did they pour the drinks from plastic bottles into plastic cups, what do you do if you don’t have a visa card (they accepted no other payment providers) and how do the announcers make sure they get the pronunciation of all the names correct?
My husband confirmed he still doesn’t know the difference between the Australian and New Zealand flags and I had to explain again my loyalty according to my passports goes Australia, France, UK, closely followed by Iran then Canada based on family ties and finally New Zealand (the flag isn’t the same but the similarities are many and the Tasman sea is tiny). The final race of the whole games was devastating as two women in the 100m T63 fell at the finish but I was thrilled to see one of them awarded joint bronze all the same. If I was in charge everyone would get a medal. I know it defeats the purpose, but would stop me crying at every race.
Sunday was spent mainly in the park, first for a birthday party and then catching up with visiting family, where we stumbled upon a celebration called Paris vaut bien une fête which celebrates 1500 years of Parisian history and witnessed a curious mash up of various historical periods ranging from vikings and a Napoleonic army to Belle Époque extras, which had us absolutely confused until we remembered seeing the same parade last year. A torrential downpour eventually washed away the last of our resolve so it was home to close out Sunday with bath, dinner and bedtime battles.
Have a great week,
- Emily
Cheese we’re eating this week:
Chêvre de Madame Moret - an ash coated goat’s cheese made by Madame Moret, the neighbour of the fromagier.
Chistera - a semi-hard cheese made with a blend of ewe’s and goat’s milk that has a tangy flavour and creamy texture.
Beaufort - a firm, raw cow's milk cheese produced in the French alps (and commonly used in fondue).
All three cheeses were bought from Manu at Marché Maubert.
Grilled Mackerel
The kids love mackerel which is both good for them and really cheap so I make it as often as I can bear getting out all those tiny, almost invisible bones.
Mackerel, depending on size 1 per person is good. Have the fishmonger gut the fish and head on or off is fine.
Whatever vegetables you like, ideally ones that cook in under 20 minutes (courgette, tomato, lemon, fennel etc).
Turn the oven to 180°C. Slice your veggies thinly and toss in olive oil and salt. Lay the mackrel(s) on top and roast for around 15-20 minutes. You can lift up one of the filets gently with a fork to see if it’s cooked through.
I serve it family style, with a big bowl of rice, and fillet the fish at the table as we go, but for a more formal setting you could plate in the kitchen.
Bon appétit!
Real Life Paris Photo
Midnight in Paris come to life?
Would you mind sharing the name of your new dentist?
Great blouse!