Tarte aux pommes

Tonight, we picked up dinner from the Grecian Gyro. J decided to mix it up by getting a gyro, which they are supposed to be known for. I stuck to my normal souvlaki and a large order of dolmades, which would keep in the fridge if we didn't finish them and keep for a snack later. I'm happy to say that's where they are right now.

Talking about gyros made me remember the grec frites that we used to have when I was in Paris. Although there was a cafe at school, they didn't really serve food, as I recall. At least, we didn't eat it. We went there for cafes, wine (there was a Beaujolais release party there as I remember), incredibly strong Bavarian beer, and ... well, that's it. For lunch, we often ventured outside the school, either going to a cafe, picking up some bread and cheese from a nearby shoppe, or getting a greasy grec frites which is really just a gyro with the salty fries shoved inside.

And that made me remember the tartes aux pommes. I swear, the bakeries in Paris are just amazing. Everyone knows about the baguettes, which folks line up for on the way home from work. They were something like 40 centimes which, at the time I was there, there were five francs to a dollar. You do the math.

Anyway, back to the tartes aux pommes. There was a bakery counter right past the door to the school out there in the 19th. Most of my classmates got the pain au chocolat and who could blame them? If I was a chocolate fiend I would have too, but I'm not. These tartes au pommes were hot and delicious, flaky and light. American pastries are usually far too sweet but these were delicate. I tried not to get them every day because the cost (which I don't remember) does really add up but oh... I remember how delectable they were. I could go for one right now...

Once you get on the topic of living abroad, it's hard to shut up. I really miss the wandering around that I did, sometimes with nothing but an address on a piece of paper and a book of streets and a guide to the arrondisements for when I got lost. I miss crepe vendors on the street. I miss French press coffee in the mornings with Nutella slathered on fresh-from-the-bakery baguettes. I miss trekking all the way across town to Chinatown just so I could pick up some fresh fish. I miss going to street markets on Saturday mornings and looking through four different produce stands before picking the one to shop at. I have to say: I just miss Paris sometimes.

Even if the sidewalks are covered in dog poop.