They Don't Call Me La Flâneuse for Nothing

Exciting updates, reading and recipe reccos, and what I lost on my first date with Monsieur B

Salut les amis,

The other week I posted a poll to find out what you like to read from me. Merci merci to all who replied (and to each of you for being here). This week I’m going to take my cues from you, with a little mix of stories, personal news, some recipes I’m loving right now, and other inspirations. Un peu de tout (a little of everything).

I hope le printemps (Spring) finds you happily bringing new ideas and passions into bloom. Yesterday I heard someone say that here in Paris we’ve had a historic amount of rainfall this year. He wasn’t speaking to me, but I replied under my breath, “Tu blagues” (you’re kidding, but with kind of a ‘no sh*t, Sherlock’ context).

Did everyone else already know how rainy Paris actually is as a city? In all my visits to France over numerous years before moving here, there was a lot of rain, but I took it for coincidence. Now I know better. In winter and early Spring, we live like mushrooms here, et quand le soleil pointe son nez (literally ‘when the sun points its nose’), everyone floods outside to the terraces and cafés.

Luckily I am a romantic and I love rain. I even met Monsieur B on a very rainy day in St. Germain. I was carrying un petit parapluie (a little umbrella) I’d just bought at Monoprix in the hopes of avoiding frizzy hair for our first date (didn’t work). The umbrella was black with white stripes. We walked in the rain to a charming bar he knew, and I put the umbrella on the floor next to where we were sitting.

Then, I fell in love. It took about ten minutes, but it started as soon as he pulled out the table, took my jacket and folded it neatly, sat down, leaned his elbows on the table, and smiled at me—a smile I still cannot resist. I was mesmerized by the time we left, and it had stopped raining. I completely forgot about the umbrella, and we went to dinner, which lasted three hours. But that’s not the end of the story. If you want to know the fate of The Lost Umbrella, scroll all the way down…

OK, let’s get to the updates and reccos!

But first, if you’ve got cool stuff going on—a link, a fun transition, a visit or move to France?—please share it in a comment. Comments keep me going. On adore ! (We love it!)

What’s New: An Exciting Announcement

I’m proud to say I’m now a contributor to MyFrenchLife™, a long-established and popular online magazine for all things francophile, beyond the usual clichés and in-depth on many subjects, from history to cheese and travel. If you missed my article about French Restaurant Culture, you can find it here as my first piece for MyFrenchLife™. I’ll be writing about food and I’m looking forward to starting a series on des vins français (French wines) how to not be intimidated by them, and how to pair them with your favorite foods and situations. The magazine’s fondatrice, Judy MacMahon, also has a Substack called Le bulletin, and one of my favorite parts of it is the #FranceStack™, which is an evolving list of great French/France-themed Substacks.

What I’m Obsessing About: Two Big Projects

Last year I let go of a business I’d been working on for four years. A few months after that, a 13-year contract with my other business came to an end. Instead of looking at it negatively, I’ve decided to spend this year learning and doing things I love, in the spirit of seeking out what might be next.

Back to Wine School. First off, this month I’m starting an intensive study program called French Wine Scholar (FWS). The textbook and scope of the training is daunting, but I like that kind of thing. It will culminate with an exam in Bordeaux (and hopefully a good bottle of Entre Deux Mers afterwards, plus another coveted lapel pin!). On va voir… (We’ll see…)

A New Book. Next, I continue to make slow but relatively stable progress on a novel. The progress is largely a result of a writer’s working group I started with one of my friends who also happens to be the creator of multiple hit TV series, including Find Me in Paris. We get together online (when we’re not having three-hour lunches in person) and we write with a timer, working on our own projects. Having that support is a game-changer. If you’re stuck on a writing project, I recommend you try this. We’ve had other friends join since and we all agree—ça marche (it works).

Stopping by le fleuriste Patrick Allain on the Ile St. Louis

What I’m Reading

Altas des Vins de France. Aside from my FWS textbook, Monsieur B came home this week with a present for me—a wine atlas—and it is the perfect gift for anyone who loves French wine. Only issue is, it’s in French, which may not work for everyone. This is a coffee table book with detailed maps and descriptions of appellations and gorgeous illustrations.

Babysitter, Joyce Carol Oates. On a darker (and fictional) note, has anyone else read Joyce Carol Oates’ Babysitter? This book is not for those looking for a light romp or beach read, but it is a masterpiece, a sort of fever-dream with added serial killer and political commentary. Undoubtedly one of my favorite recent reads, although I am worried about admitting that because it is so darned disturbing. Do you have any guilty literary pleasures?

What I’m Cooking

Monsieur B and I are involved in several renovations right now, in Paris in our guest room and à la campagne, where we are redoing all the bedrooms. Thus, we’ve been moving furniture and making dust on evenings and weekends, and cooking simple. Recently I discovered this chef on Instagram who cooks cozy vegetarian dishes, but I’m also looking forward to trying Melissa Clark’s One-Pan Pork Chops with Feta, Snap Peas and Mint. For a sweet treat, maybe these Lemon-Thyme Shortbread Cookies? They feel just right for the season.

Photo: Greg Dupree. From Southern Living

As Promised: The End of the Umbrella Story

I was a cynical New Yorker when it came to lost items. I knew that a forgotten umbrella never gets returned to its owner. It is stolen by someone else immediately. Yes, I was kicking myself because I’d paid 20 euros for it that same day, but my general attitude is just to let things slide rather than stressing.

On our fourth date (we had four dates, four nights in a row), we were getting ready to say au revoir, and I had no idea when I would see this marvelous man again. He was leaving for summer holidays with his kids (he’s an aoûtien, meaning he’s in the group of French who go on vacation in August, as opposed to the juillettistes who vacation in July). I would be returning to New York before he came back to Paris. It was late in the evening and we were strolling along the Seine. My heart felt like a knot in my chest, and I was trying not to cry.

“Come with me,” he said and he took my hand.

We walked and walked until we found ourselves in front of Chez Georges, the scene of our first date. It was packed, but Monsieur B walked up to the bartender and said a few words I couldn’t hear. The next thing you know, my new love was walking my way, smiling at me and waving my umbrella, unmistakeable for its white stripes.

“Je le crois pas,” I said. (I don’t believe it)

“Believe it,” he said, and he bent down to kiss me.

And then we sat down for a drink because we didn’t want the night to end.

Of note: that umbrella is no longer available for actual rain-related use, and no one is allowed to take it out of the apartment. I won’t risk losing it again—it’s too precious, a touchstone that brings me right back to the beginning of our story.

Bisous de Paris,

Karen