Paris eating for at least 10 for one

When I was little, I lived across from l’Alliance Française and took french classes, picturing myself as some kindof madeline. We used to drive up to Montreal and I’d be able to fake some frenchiness. I’ve been a francophile for. ever.

Paris was always the ‘destination’ for my mum and I. She had lived there, and wanted to show me the most incredible city in the world. I never got to do that with her – but this trip felt like exactly what she would have loved. I lost my beautiful mum on Remembrance day, and the train pulling into Paris from the airport was lined in bright red poppies. It felt like it was exactly where she would have wanted me to be.

And then there’s the food.

My plan was, for my weekend in Paris, to just walk every waking moment and eat everything in sight. I achieved this plan. I also stayed with a gorgeous girl through AirBNB on the Rue de Belleville who gave me directions, took me out to dinner (I only spoke French! To French people!), and ate cheese and baguette with me (even explaining the devestatingly french man eating his baguette and brie dipped in his morning coffee) She insisted that she lend me a beret and take a photo of me posing with my espresso in a cafe. The whole experience was magic.

These were some of the meals that, through butter content and taste, will remain in my heart forever.

This was my first espresso and pain au chocolate. After 36 hours to get from Sydney to Paris, it was incredible. I was also terribly lost. Beautiful

Emilie would leave baguette and brie (plus an envy-inspiring collection of teas) for me in the morning. She said she was going to buy an espresso machine, and then decided against it because she was above an incredible café. Amazeballs.

This was just on a street corner. The cheese was so pungent that I almost didn’t/couldn’t eat it. I also hate orangina, but temporarily forgot that thinking maybe that had changed while I was in Paris. It hadn’t.

It started raining, and I had been thinking of my Mum outside of Notre Dame. I run into the closest café to avoid getting wet, and a waiter comes up to me, takes me by the arm, and says (in French) ‘I’m so glad you came! I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up. I’ve got the perfect table for you’. He whisked me away to a corner. He demanded a ‘bisou’ (kiss) when I was leaving. Life falls together.

Crêpes. Salami, cheese, in a park, delicious.

so good. so good.

Confit de canard in the Bastille

Beautiful dinner company, gorgeous wine

Tarte tatin (apple tarte) with crème fraîche. I was convinced to have dessert, and I am so grateful

Favourite french activity: gluttony

My beautiful host, bread, and wine. Bliss

I can feel my bestie giving me critical eyes all over the place. I don’t care, I was touristing and this is my good side.

Feel like a snack at the end of a long day of walking? Baguette and brie. Always.

This shop made me feel like all my life, I was eating house insulation when I thought I was eating cheese. You can smell it before you can see it. I died and went to heaven here.

Casual french hospitality – quinoa salad with veggies, balsamic vinegar, and goats cheese. So chic.

This is the cheese (chevre) I tried to sneak into my carry-on luggage it was so good. Didn’t fly.

Organic porc rillets. And some fancy focussing.

A napoleon after the eiffel tower. Most flaky pastry of my life.

The night before I had to leave, I took myself out to dinner in Monmartre. To start, I had a veggie soup and a glass of wine. Treatyoself.

And steak au poivre (steak with a pepper sauce) for main.

Makes me be like

Its just too good.

And some photos from my trip, in general:

With love, from Charlotte