Becoming Madame

An inside look into a real life in the City of Lights and Love. I’m an American & Canadian turned Madame who lives in the heart of the French capital. Come along as I open up the world of the French from the inside – les marchés, Soldes, boulangeries, cafés… Through my posts & videos experience what life is really like as a resident of Paris. www.becomingmadame.wordpress.com

[becomingmadame]

  I was recently at the American embassy taking care of some paperwork when I decided to hop by the neighboring bookstore WH Smith to see what they might have new on their shelves. Those of you who know Paris, might know that WH is where many of us locals get our newly released English books. It doesn’t have quite the charm as Shakespeare & Company on the left bank nor the quantity of used books, but so near the embassy and right at the Place de Concorde, its two floors are filled with new releases, magazines, travel guides, English as a second language manuals – anything you could imagine in a bookstore back home.

This last time when I popped by, however, I was in for a treat!

Back in the 1980s, WH had a café on the second floor of their store. A place where you could order a coffee or tea, have a bite and peruse through your new or soon-to-be new purchases. It had already been replaced by a non-fiction section by the time I moved here in 2007. To my great delight, they have refurbished the old non-fiction section of the upstairs (all the way right and to the back) into an English tearoom.

And so I had tea. And then a week later when I was once again at the embassy on paper business, I had lunch. Fabulous little spot tucked away in the ceiling beams of Paris with a lovely view  of Concorde (almost) and rue de Rivoli.

A long list of gourmet teas awaits you for a relaxing afternoon of reading. Cheese cake, carrot cake, tea sandwiches on those tiered trays will satisfy the petits faims, as they call snacks in France, or a menu of loftier sandwiches, salads, quiches and the like for a real lunch experience.

I found the place just delightful, if not a little modern for my taste. I love the idea of buying a good book and then being right in a place where I can spend some serious time delving in. Plus the service is fabulous and the price, if not a smidge costly for locals, is appropriate – not overly absorbanent – for a tourist location like Concorde/rue de Rivoli.

Worth a go if you happen to find yourself in Paris with an afternoon free !

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

      Back in Time at WH Smith Paris I was recently at the American embassy taking care of some paperwork when I decided to hop by the neighboring bookstore WH Smith to see what they might have new on their shelves.

[becomingmadame]

France is in Shock

France is in Shock

But perhaps they shouldn’t be. After Brexit, the concerns of those fearful of the future have been put on the forefront of many minds. We see trends like this in several countries. The French extreme right is gaining in popularity. Radio analysts in France are calling America “just another country like any other” now. “They have lost their integrity as a world leader.” A lady I sat beside this…

View On WordPress

[becomingmadame]

There’s a vineyard in Paris! In my backyard… no kidding.

This weekend was the Fêtes des Vendanges in Montmartre. (Montmartre Grape Harvest Festival) Having lived in this area for the last 4 years now, I have seen the parades and tents filled with sausages and drink several times already, but alas never ventured forth.

The Festival was created in 1934, some 82 years ago, to promote and support the tiny and unique Clos Montmartre (which is owned by none other than the Town of Paris 18e). But, careful, none of those famous French subsidies here — a thin ice-wine type bottle will run you 50€!

This weekend with our great friends and their two little daughters, we walked around the Place du Tertre and Place de St Pierre and down around the Basilica with hundreds of other people. We tasted wine from the one vineyard in Paris, listened to the cabaret singers, strolled by tents filled with bottles from all the other regions throughout France not to mention the food – all sorts. It was a gourmand’s dream!

Montmartre, by the way, was featured this summer in Victoria magazine – a favorite pastime of mine. They gave some great advice about where to go on la butte and what to do. I have a few ideas to add and that will be the topic of my next post.

A bientôt !

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

  Wine in Montmartre There's a vineyard in Paris! In my backyard... no kidding. This weekend was the Fêtes des Vendanges in Montmartre.

[becomingmadame]

I was swept off to the opera on Saturday night. I’d always wanted to see the Traviata, ever since I was a small girl looking up at Julia Roberts on the big screen in her lovely crimson gown peering down over the balcony with Richard Gere at her side, tears streaming down her checks. That moment when the opera soprano hits that piercing top note and Julia (and I) got goose bumps.

  This weekend I got my wish.

I wasn’t dressed in a long crimson gown. There was no Lear Jet involved nor was there a borrowed $250,000 ruby and diamond necklace. But what-the-heck, I got to see with my own eyes Violetta hit that note. And what a note it was.

Sitting in the balcony of the Theatre des Bouffes du Nord, an ancient theatre in a risqué (interesting side note: this actually means risky in French) part of Paris, I saw the best theatrical performance I’ve seen since I moved here. No kidding. We go to the theatre at least once a month, sometimes twice or more, so I have a certain experience when it comes to Parisian theatre. And this production, this revisiting of Verdi’s classic opera was simply stunning.

Modern, in a good way, this version of the Traviata was not only gorgeous (the incredible use of flowers and web like cloth/toile) and unique (the musicians played part in the scenes strumming their instruments as they walked around and mingled like guests), but simple. Rather than the normal extravagance that we expect from the Opera, this was a play with exquisite musical accompaniment. I shouldn’t have been surprised given the cast and direction.

https://vimeo.com/174324994

  Young and brilliant.

Mettre en scene, Benjamin Lazar, is known for his talent in setting a scene, arranging the fresque so that the spectator feels as if they are watching a series of paintings float delicately past our eyes.  Soprano, Judith Chemla (Violetta), was gifted with an extremely gorgeous voice. But 30 years old, she has already been part of the Comedié Française, a mark of excellence in French theatre, and has an effortless voice unparalleled in my humble experience with opera. She was seconded by Damien Bigourdan (Alfredo), who is as handsome as his voice is breath-taking. Their notes bellowed in perfect symmetry through the circular theatre and captured my heart.

https://vimeo.com/182886495

Not just the performances. The theatre itself is a masterpiece. Originally a café-concert in the 1870s, the theatre had been abandoned and dilapidated for many years and was ready for demolition in the 1950s. Saved, thankfully, by an Italian entrepreneur in the late 1960s, the theatre was restored by England’s Peter Brook in the early 1970s. Today the building has that wonderfully rustic, still partly suffering from a hard youth, spectacular circular-protruding stage, paint-chipping away look that is as purposeful as it is atmospheric.

If you happen to be Paris right now or at some point until Oct 15, may I suggest an evening at the theatre !

  La Traviata Revisted I was swept off to the opera on Saturday night. I'd always wanted to see the Traviata, ever since I was a small girl looking up at Julia Roberts on the big screen in her lovely crimson gown peering down over the balcony with Richard Gere at her side, tears streaming down her checks. 

[becomingmadame]

Having spent much of my adolescence in Canada, I’m particularly attached to the Canadian ritual of “going to the cottage”, up north in Cottage Country.

“When we go on vacation,” says my better half on the way up to our vacation spot, “we (the French) go south… Cote d’Azur, Provence, Biarritz… When Canadians go on vacation, they go north! C’est drôle!”

His surprise was real. Who would go north on vacation? But he had no idea what was in store for him. A former boy scout and an avid hiker, he loves nature almost as much as I do. I’d been telling him for years about my childhood summers at sleep-away camp, canoeing trips, camping in the Great Canadian North.

“I want to see those trees and the rivers and the sunsets and… a moose!” he said.

So I took him to the cottage. (But we didn’t see a moose.)

About 3 hours north of Toronto (up the 400 and Highway 11), you eventually hit an area of Ontario known as Cottage Country: Muskoka. Cottage Country is actually a larger area than just Muskoka; people have cottages in Georgian Bay, along the Great Lakes, the St Laurence, in the lakes of Algonquin Park up and around Huntsville. Many Canadian families have cottages passed down their family for generations. It’s much like family chateaux here in France. These Canadians are real cottagers – they go up on long weekends, holidays, for Thanksgiving, and summer breaks. The cottage is in their blood.

  There is nothing quite as relaxing – that I’ve come across anyway – as a week in a Muskoka chair, canoeing through the silent lakes of Northern Ontario, hearing your paddle dip ever so gently into the waters’ depth as the sun shimmers over the liquid ripples. Peace, my friends, by my definition.

Since we, in my family, are not cottage people in the proper sense of the phrase – we don’t own a cottage of our own – we had to find an experience that would encapsulate all my memories as a guest or renter of others’ cottages throughout the years to share with my new family… a real authentic Canadian cottage experience.

Bartlett Lodge in Algonquin Park is just that. Owned by a dedicated couple, Kim and Marilyn Smith, for the last 30 years (anniversary in 2017), and run with the help of a wonderful lady named Anna, this Lodge is a real authentic Canadian cottage experience.

A boat ride off the main land to an island sprouted with small wooden cottages, long docks, racks of canoes and paddle boats, a club house, and a dining hall, when you get off the boat  you feel like you’ve gone back to camp. Except this time you have the counsellor’s cabin. Rather than 6 or 8 other girls in bunk beds, you have a king size bed, full ensuite, fire place, and gorgeous view of the lake and surrounding nature from a private porch.

Best of all, the dining hall is now a gourmet restaurant. As a Frenchman, my partner is particular about eating out. He doesn’t want to go to Kelsey’s or Red Lobster when we are back home visiting my family. He wants to find some little unique place off the beaten path, or he’d rather just stay home and cook for us himself.

Excellent service accompanies a variety of all-inclusive packages available for your stay at Bartlett. Comparable to any fine-dining experience in Paris, we discovered the chef’s 4 course menu each night with anticipation and pleasure. A boudin noir with sautéed cabbage and spring onions tossed over a bed of linguini and drizzled with olive oil is an example of an appetizer recipe we have taken back to France with compliments to the Bartlett chef.

After a sit down breakfast served by a fabulous teams of young professionals, your day is open in front of you. Canoes, kayaks, paddle boats are at your disposal. Hiking trails and activities throughout the larger Algonquin Park are only a short boat ride away. Or if you prefer, as we found ourselves enjoying a drink and a book on the deck overlooking the undeniable beauty that is uniquely Canadian.

Bartlett Lodge the best of both worlds: the perfect cottage experience with the necessities of a fine hotel.

Bartlett Lodge -Perfect Canadian Cottage Experience Having spent much of my adolescence in Canada, I'm particularly attached to the Canadian ritual of "going to the cottage", up north in Cottage Country.

[becomingmadame]

Secrets of France - Contribution

Secrets of France – Contribution

I was recently asked to contribute to the Secrets of France newsletter featuring French bloggers favorite French places. This edition was published on their site this month. Seven great ideas for a more than Parisian vacation by some pretty interesting fellow expats. Happy viewing.  

View On WordPress

[becomingmadame]

I recently wrote a post about the book Provence 1970, a book that I adored and through which I spent my reading hours vicariously living the rugged, burnt-sun existence that is summering in Provence. Today I write to you from a little stone house overlooking an orchard of olive trees with billowing curtains ushering in the warm breeze. This is Provence.

The interior walls of this stone house are a meter (3 feet) thick to keep in the midnight chill. They are mustard color. A lavender bush grows beside a tall Cyprus tree outside my bedroom window and I see a tracker pulling a huge crate of apricots roll down the front lane.

Provence has always had a special allure to me. Before I moved over to France, I’d pictured life in Paris – the cafés, walks along the Seine, reading at one of those tiny brasserie tables with one of those tiny coffees in hand. The other place that had captured my mind’s eye was Provence. Something about the word Provence encapsulates perfect vacation. Provence – sunny weather, lavender fields, ice cold rosé wine and the licorice kiss of Pastis, vegetables bursting with flavor at farmers’ markets… Provence.

I’d read Julia Child’s account of her time in Provence. I’d read Patricia Wells, too. I’d even driven through the area on the way back up from the Cannes Film Festival back in 07, my first year in France. But I’d never had the opportunity to spend some real time in the region until this summer.

When we decided to head down to the Avignon Theater Festival I jumped at the opportunity to explore Provence. We rented a stone house in the hills on the border of Drome and Vaucluse. We rented a car. And we had a blast.

Here’s a slideshow of Provence through my lens, as well as a trip to the town renown for its wine: Chateauneuf-du-Pape, plus a fez memories of a wonderful evening spent at the Chateau de Grignan, a beautiful Renaissance chateau up on a hill. Grignan hosts an event called the Fêtes nocturnes, a theater festival that runs on the chateau grounds each summer and is celebrating this year its 30th anniversary. For all history and literature lovers, Chateau de Grignan was the home of the Marquise of Sévigné’s favorite daughter (the one she wrote all those famous letters to…). Interestingly, the two women adored each other and corresponded vivaciously by letter for over 30 years, but once they were under the same roof they had a difficult time being in the same room…

Profite-bien ! et bon été !!

Provence:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Chateauneuf-du-Pape:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Chateau de Grignan:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Provence – loved it! I recently wrote a post about the book Provence 1970, a book that I adored and through which I spent my reading hours vicariously living the rugged, burnt-sun existence that is summering in Provence.

[becomingmadame]

I’d heard about the Festival d’Avignon for years – three weeks of theater in the south of France. Theater in the streets, theater in cafés, theater in makeshift theater houses, theater in garages and in just about any nook and cranny you could fit theater. This summer I’ve finally experienced it first hand.

My better half is writing his third book set at the Festival and so we’ve come down to do two things: introduce me to the phenomenon, and do a little research. While he’s been running between interviews with actors and les metteurs en scene, I’ve been soaking up the atmosphere.

  Founded in the late 1940s by Jean Vilar, French theater actor and director, the official festival is the In where about 40 shows – some created just for the festival – are preformed in the prestigious and beautiful Palais de Papes.

Did you know (love historical tidbits): back in the middle-ages France briefly split from Rome, or more precisely the Roman Catholic church, and created their own Pope. Guess where they housed him? You got it: Avignon, lending for ever more the chateau its name…

Vilar’s original idea was to bring art to the public in a relaxed, more accessible atmosphere and to do so after the war had almost broken the French spirit. The city, for their part, wanted to breathe a little life back into the walled town after the terrible bombings of WWII. The inaugural year brought something like 5000 spectators to the festival. Today, under the current direction of Olivier Py, the festival boasts over 100,000 visitors, making it the largest festival in France and one of the biggest in the world.

If I told you there was a place somewhere in the southeast corner of France that hosted 1400 plays in July, I bet you’d think I was lying. I’d think I was lying. That’s a lot… it’s about 3 times larger than Broadway (on and off combined) or – if you can imagine – about 40 theater troupes playing all 37 of Shakespeare’s plays simultaneously in one city not any larger than 25 square miles around. That’s a lot.

So if 40 or so of these shows are in the In that leaves something like 1350 on the Off program, which means that rather than being played at the Palais de Pape, the shows are hosted in a long string of makeshift theaters. That’s the fun part. You can get a thick catalogue of everything playing, then pick and choose till your heart’s content. (Tip: go get a Off membership card and get discounts on every show!)

Before coming down, I was warned about the heat, the crowds, the lines, the heat, and – did I mention – the heat? Luckily this year has apparently been relatively mild and graced by the powerful presence of the mistral (the great winds that sweep through this region of France).  Let me relative this for you, it’s still 40*c outside (or thereabouts) but it feels much more bearable than the images that temperature might conjure up in your head. Having spent a large part of my childhood in Florida and Alabama, I can tell you the dry heat of Provence seems much less frightening that the humidity of my youth.

What I found was a pleasantly busy festival with posters plastered all over the place, people handing out ads for the plays by the handfuls, others preforming a part of their show in the streets, and still others in full costume talking on their cell phones during the intermission. People are sprawled all over the cafés and terraces. While you’re having a tea your neighbor to the right speaks of a play that sounds really good and you start to research it in the Off catalogue. Meanwhile the fellas to the left are destroying all hope you might have had in the play your scheduled to see in 10 minutes. You rethink your plan; throw all to the wind, down your glass of rosé and head for the neighbor’s recommendation. That’s Avignon.

(Another tip: Many of the shows can be reserved in advance, so if you’ve had a recommendation beforehand, go online before you head out.)

Here are a few photos to whet your theatrical appetite!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

    Festival d’Avignon (Theater…everywhere) I'd heard about the Festival d'Avignon for years - three weeks of theater in the south of France.

[becomingmadame]

La fête de la Musique 2016

La fête de la Musique 2016

In the early 1980s, the French Minister of Culture, Jack Lang, created La fête de la Musique. Since that first year, thousands of musicians have flooded the streets of Paris on the evening of June 21, rain or shine, to put their talent on show. In each arrondissement, Paris cafés, brasseries, street corners, parks, squares are packed full of make-shift stages and performers singing or playing…

View On WordPress

[becomingmadame]

I’m not a sports fan, but the sheer number of jerseys I saw today and the huge road parties made me pause and take notice!

It must be the Irish against some country, as the green shirted men with their beer in hand jollily singing in their fabulous accented voices gave them away.

Here a little glimpse of the festivities around Place de Clichy. (Love the guy who had a clover suit made!)

  Le Foot, er, Soccer sweeps Paris I'm not a sports fan, but the sheer number of jerseys I saw today and the huge road parties made me pause and take notice!

[becomingmadame]

The chef is not, unsurprisingly, me…

We recently spent a week with a chef at the Ile de Ré. This chef, who is in fact the older cousin of my better half, decided one day after more than ten years as a strategic consultant in Paris to give it all up (I obviously love these kinds of stories!) to become a chef. A life long lover of food and the culinary arts, Steve is passionate about food. And, lucky us, every time he comes over, he throws both hands into the meals. After several training programs, he opened the doors of a catering company called la Mayonnaise.

As an aside — Do you know how mayonnaise came to be? (I love this kind of story too…)

According to the legend, in the 1750s when the Duke de Richelieu captured the Port Mahon, on an Mediterranean island off the coast of Spain during the Seven Years’ War, the Duke’s chef, “upon finding the island lacked the cream he needed for a righteous victory sauce, invented an egg and oil dressing dubbed mahonnaise for its place of birth”.

Among the many dishes Steve made for us during our April break by the seaside was a reduced honey vinaigrette over oranges and fresh mint from the garden, sautéed new potatoes with fresh green garlic (my new favorite ingredient – it goes with everything!), and a tortilla, which is not the paper-thin corn-based pancake we use in North America for fajitas. Beh non, it’s a traditional Spanish omelette. Steve whipped this up for us using the leftover new potatoes.

The secret to the honey vinaigrette – reduce a little freshly squeezed orange juice (about a half cup) into a small sauce pan, add a dash or two of balsamic vinegar, a tablespoon of honey and let simmer until it reduces to a light sauce. Pour over freshly peeled oranges and let cool in fridge for about an hour. (If this recipe seems a little vague to you, join the club! I tried to get more precise information from Steve while watching him do his magic, but he’s completely run by his intuition. Recipes, he says, are for those without imagination. Fair enough, when the food tastes this good!

    Spring cuisine – ideas from a chef The chef is not, unsurprisingly, me... We recently spent a week with a chef at the…

[becomingmadame]

  Or is it Sant Jordi… Last weekend I was down in Perpignan, way down in the south-west of France near the Spanish border, for the release of my better half’s newest book, and while I was there I experienced Sant Jordi Day for the first time.

  In other parts of the global its called World Book Day, or St George’s Day, and little did I know that such a fête began as a Catalan tradition where on the day in question women were given a rose and men a book. (Luckily for me, these days women are given book too!) Libraries and book stores host events, like this one where little children were read to and then offered a book.

The festival takes place in France in most historical Catalan cities – the very south-western part of France. Streets are lined with book stands and roses are everywhere. I was offered two roses by different people I had just met.

  Roses and books, what could be better!

And while we were there we had the chance to spend some time before the literary evening at the Hotel Pams, a gorgeous hôtel particulier in the quartier Saint Jacques of Perpignan. Open to the public at certain times, the magnificent mansion belonged to the family that created Job tobacco rolling paper back in the 1800s. If you ever find yourself in old town Perpignan, this is not to be missed!

    A Book for a Rose? Or is it Sant Jordi... Last weekend I was down in Perpignan, way down in the south-west of France near the Spanish border, for the release of my better half's newest book, and while I was there I experienced Sant Jordi Day for the first time.

[becomingmadame]

French Babies Eat Yogurt...?

French Babies Eat Yogurt…?

I knew going into this adventure that the eating habits I was used to back home in North America were not what they are here in France. I knew this to be true for adults – those of you who have glimpsed through the memoir will remember our long discussion about such topics in chapter 16 – but I never really thought about it terms of babies. Then again, it only makes sense: if adult French people…

View On WordPress

[becomingmadame]

Becoming Madame is Becoming Maman!

Becoming Madame is Becoming Maman!

Some exciting news: Becoming Madame is Becoming Maman (!!), and that explains, along with the full time job, much of the white space this blog has seen over the last little while. Marveling in my new role, it is increasingly obvious to me that the way we do things back home when it comes to parenting isn’t exactly the way the French do it. Fascinated as I am by the comparisons between my native…

View On WordPress

[becomingmadame]

Twice a year, one of the prettiest streets in Paris – winding its way toward Montmartre – hosts an enormous brocante, garage and antique sale… all piled into one. Spanning 2 kms, this outdoor market is packed full of stands and tables of all sorts. Books, clothes, baby accessories, furniture, knick-knacks, china, linen, just about everything you could think of.

I love these days…. the butcher brings out his BBQ and sells sausages on baguette. People are everywhere, someone playing music in one corner and children running around and laughing in another.

You can find some real deals as well! We bought a small wooden book shelf and miniature chair for a grand total of 18€. Plus 7€ for the sausage and it turned out to be a relatively inexpensive afternoon enjoying the newly minted spring season.

A few years ago, I wrote another post and did a video of brocantes in Paris. Similar to a flee market back home, you can find all sorts of items, but you have a dig a little. And deals are there to be had!

A few pictures to give you an idea.

Bon week-end !

  Rue Caulaincourt Brocante Twice a year, one of the prettiest streets in Paris - winding its way toward Montmartre - hosts an enormous brocante, garage and antique sale...

[becomingmadame]

Reading Paris

  From “The Tenth Muse: My Life in Food, by-Judith Jones I have just put down Provence 1970, the book I found in the free book mail box in Chinon during my latest road trip around Touraine. Written by Luke Barr, the grand-nephew of MFK Fisher, the original Francophile, Provence 1970 is the story of a unique moment in time nestled in the valley of Aix-en-Provence and Grasse in Southern France, a…

View On WordPress

[becomingmadame]

We have wanted to explore this area for a long time. We’ve both been to the grand chateaux before – Chambord, Amboise, Blois, Chenonceaux… – but never had we taken the time to explore the lesser known villages and sights. This first week of Winter Break, we hopped into a rented car in Tours and headed out toward la Loire. A quick stop at the Office de Tourisme, Wine Route map in hand, we wound our way through Montlouis, Mont Richard, into the Ambroise forest and down toward Azay-le-Rideau. We spent the first night at a small hotel in this latter town, and visited the chateau the next morning. A fairytale castle if I’ve ever seen one! Think Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty and this castle is what comes to mind. Disney could have used it as his model. (Of course, the beautiful blue sky didn’t hurt!)

Day two, we spent the morning in Balzac’s home country: Saché. A lovely museum in the house where he lived and wrote –  his 10 most productive literary years. He pinned Le Lys dans la vallée, a love story in which nothing happens, which is rather French. He used this chateau as inspiration for the one in the book.

As we passed through Touraine toward Chinon and Saumur (other parts of the Touraine) we entered the real wine region. Chateaux and vineyards every few miles. Breathtaking little villages, winding roads, narrow bridges over the Cher. Lunch in Chinon, a very quaint town with plenty of shops, brocantes, and my personal favorite – Libre Livres – an unassuming box, much like a mailbox, in which a stack of books is open for the taking. Take a book, leave a book. Brillant idea. I happened upon Province 1970, currently on my night stand.

From Chinon we made our way to tonight’s home – Montsoreau – through some of the most beautiful countryside I’ve seen on a long time. Yet another beguiling white stone village cut out of a large hill and draped with charm, one of France’s “most beautiful villages”. Without a doubt, those who share my sensibility for antique, old, character-filled places should think of staying at Hotel Le Bussy. Don’t let the Logis sign scare you away; this hotel is oozing with allure.

I am writing to you this very moment from the top floor of this ancient building with a gorgeous view out over the Loire and Vienne rivers and the Renaissance chateau that shares the town’s name. A castle made famous by Alexander Dumas in his novel The Dame de Monsoreau.

After a delicious fish dinner at a surprising little joint on the side of the road appropriately named La Mise en bouche, I must say good night. We have two more days left one this leg of the trip. I’ll be reporting again soon…

  Touraine, Loire Valley: A road trip We have wanted to explore this area for a long time. We've both been to the grand chateaux before - Chambord, Amboise, Blois, Chenonceaux...