Irish Pub in Paris

Over the past few years, I have been traveling a lot and I have found one thing that all major cities have in common. The Irish pub. What explains this phenomenon? I will chronical my adventures at these establishments city by city.

Paris
The Eiffel Tower drew us in like a beacon. We walked for miles (well, kilometers) towards the glowing tower that at times would sparkle. All of Paris sparkles between the Beaujolais festival until New Years. We went to the top of the Tower, marveled at the sights. Why, yes this is the city of lights. Can you take our picture? All the things one does on their first night in Paris.

After we came back to Earth and navigated through the throngs of young men hawking Tower keychains and fiber optic glass sculptures and past the police offices with the AK-47’s, I know I wasn’t ready for bed yet. It was around 11 on a Monday or Tuesday night in a business area. What was there to do?

We had passed by a pub on the way to the Tower. Yep, an Irish pub near the Seinne. Sounds romantic, don’t it? If memory serves me right, it was the Corcoran. I didn’t feel too much culture shock in Paris. The young men and women roaming new the Tower and in the airport with machine guns thrown jauntily across their shoulder was a big deal, though. Hooligans in their late 20’s chugging beer on a Sunday morning near the Opera, okay, that bothered me as well. Seeing, through the windows of the subway car, the extreme poverty of the peoples living outside the city; I was shocked by this as well. Okay, so Paris took a little getting used to.

So, it may be no wonder that I was drawn to a familiar face in the form of a pint. Liter. whatever

The Corcoran was warm and inviting, dark wood lined the walls, which were covered in memorabilia. The barman claimed to be half English. I am assuming the other half was French? He asked us how we ended up in an Irish pub in Paris. Oh, well, we’re from Boston. Oh, of course! He had been to Boston, specifically to Brighton, which is a neighborhood of the city, to visit friends. He asked if that thing the city’s been working on has been completed yet? You mean the Big Dig? We laughed and laughed and he asked us what we wanted to drink. We played it safe for the first round—Guiness and a cider. Now, being on the continent, we were dealing with the metric system. A half a liter is 16.9 ounces. A half liter of beer or cider was either 7€80, which at the time was equal to $10.53. (or was it 6€70? =$9.05) In today’s weak dollar, that would be $12.12 (or $10.38). For the next round, Keith had a 1556 Blanc. The barman tried to warn us against it, telling us many people do not like it because of its fruitiness. This has to be one of the most delicious beers I have ever had in my life. I have been searching to find this in Boston and every other city in which we have traveled ever since. As the name suggests, it is a white beer, similar to Hoegarden, but with a richer floral bouquet. I have found the regular 1556, a lager or pilsner, but it wasn’t the same.

We ended our evening at the Corcoran and Keith grabbed a bag of crisps for the walk back to our room. I thought it very cute that the barman brought the crisps in a basket. Mind you it was still in the bag, unopened. It made sense to me that he did that for the Japanese couple sitting next to us, as they consumed their crisps at the bar. Is it uncouth in Paris to eat your crisps out of the bag? For that matter, is it uncouth to devour a bag of crisps as you drunkenly stumble down the street? Experiencing new cultural differences is part of why we travel, right?

Now, let me tell you about these chips Keith had. I think they were beef & bacon flavored. I did not partake, what with my feelings about bacon and other piggie parts. But I LOVE potato chips from other countries! I love the different flavors that we just don’t think to use in our snack foods.

Santiago de Chile April 2008

Neither Keith nor I had been to South America before and we were unsure of what to expect. We had booked a week in Chile, with most of the time being spent in the capital, Santiago. We had also booked two side trips, one to a vineyard and one to the coastal towns of Vina del Mar and Valparaiso.

Day One:

Logan airport. We flew out on Delta, with a connection in Atlanta. As per usual, we had a drink or two before the flight (Jameson and ginger ale). At the bar near us, there was a very drunk young man with an expense account. He was complaining about his delayed flight and was buying shots of Jager for the young ladies next to him, who were not quite so drunk.

On the first flight, as it was domestic, there was no food and barely even a drink service. Once we got to the ATL, it was food court time. I wanted some bad Chinese food, but I was apparently invisible to the people at Panda Express, so I was forced to go to McDonalds. Worst Big Mac ever. All the meat and veg were between two buns, so the third and top bun only covered more bread. Maybe they were concerned about my card intake.

The flight to Santiago was delayed past midnight due to weather. No one wants to be stuck in a metal tube up in the atmosphere during a thunderstorm. The terminal from which you fly out to South America is great. The hallways are littered with display cases full of the terrible things people have tried to bring back into the US, most of which are animal in origin. A whole turtle? Really? Not to mention many knives made of various bones and shell, as well as endangered birds and butterflies. What would you do with a giant dead turtle?

Day Two:

It's Day Two and we are still in the US, but finally on the long flight (ten hours). We were served spinach and cheese ravioli in a creamy pesto sauce with a crappy salad. Hours later somewhere far south of the equator, we were served breakfast: a croissant, a banana (Keith didn't get one; I gave him mine), a granola bar, juice, and tea.

Finally, en Santiago. After checking into the hotel, we thought to wander around a bit. We stayed at the Best Western Espanioles, in the Providencia district of Santiago. Gentrification has hit this area of the city first. We stopped and had lunch at "Gatsby's," which was reminiscent of TGIFridays. I had the Sampler de Pollo. I had been warned by a colleague that Chilenos do not know how to cook chicken, and in this, I was not let down. Perhaps, since South America is the land of some of the world's best beef and seafood--foods that taste best when their natural flavors are allowed to shine--that they have not learned what the Colonel has taught us. The more herbs and spices the better. Unseasoned grilled pollo, tomato, lettuce, avocado, and something that seemed a cross between an endive and a heart of palm. Although the chicken was flavorless, las verdunas son delicioso and fresh.

Keith had the lomito, a typical South American steak sandwich. The sandwich consists of thinly sliced beef on a bun with lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and guacamole. There's a lunch counter here in Boston that serves the Peruvian style of this sandwich (addition of green beans). Lines stretch down the block during the lunch hour. This sandwich was three times better than the ones served at home. We split a bottle of 120 Sauvignon Blanc, a wine we have had on numerous occasions here at home as well. Vineyards will tailor their wines depending upon where they will be exported to. We Americans like our Sauvignon Blancs to be more acidic and tart. Imagine my surprise at the mellow and smooth flavor of this wine I had thought I had tasted before. 14.000 pesos, or around $30 with gratuity.

On our way back to the hotel for a much needed nap, we passes a grocery store. I cannot resist stepping into foreign grocery stores. They are a clear view into how the lives of the peoples we visit and our own are so much the same while being so different. We bought the usual: some bottled water (c'mon, we were in South America), chip and cookies, and three bottles of wine. All for around 5.200 pesos. (less then $12). The wines were: Oveja Negra Sauvignon Blanc. Muy bien! (I really liked this wine and if anyone here in Boston has seen it in a restaurant or liquor store, let me know!) Cosecha Lazo Sauvignon Blanc. Not so bien. Santa Carolina Estrella de Plata Reserva Cabernet Sauvignon-Syrah. Very nice.

I would like to tell you, dear reader, that we did not drink all of that wine in one day, but, alas, we were on holiday. We didn't finish it all, but damn did we try to.

Munich Sept 2008

We were flying airfrance this time. Good service and free wine, why I was quite excited. I was a little worried about the wretchedly uncomfortable seats, but, luckily, this was not the case for our outbound flight. No, it was the unbelievable back pain from trying to sleep in a seat designed for a much smaller child. I really didin't remember the seats being so narrow.

The second flight, from Paris to Munich was much better. The air rest was able to descend fully, as my hips weren't overlapping into the next seat. I got at least 20 minutes of sleep and the croissant wasn't full of chocolate. I know, as a woman, I am obligated to love chocolate in all its forms, but first thing in the mornin? C'mon!

But this reminds me I am ahead of my self and now shall I begin my food journal for this trip properly.

Day One: Tuesday, Sept 16

I met Rachel for lunch at Rebecca's before the flight. I had the turkey & apple sandwich and an Orangina. What is it about Europe that just screams for an Orangina?

The turkey & apple is a fantastic sammie. I know I should be saving my praise for all the fantastic food I'll be having in Europe, but bear with me. Whole grain bread, Vermont cheddar, grannie smith apples, honey mustard, and smoked turkey. So good, but I digress.

I met Keith at the airport. He has the good sense not to go to work the same day as he flies out to Europe, nor to go to work the day after he gets back. Unlike me, but more on that later. keith hadn't eaten yet that day (3:30pm), so we went to the little restaurant outside of security, where he had a cheeseburger. I'll never forget the certainty with which he said "yes" to the offer of bacon on said burger. And, oh lord, did he send that burger back when it failed to arrive with that bacon.

On the plane:

God, how I hate these planes that hold five, six hundred passengers. Why! Why weren't my parents better with money so I could afford to purchase a seat at 10 times the cost, so I could actually sleep!!

Dinner:

Some jerk a few rows behind me had the temerity to ask the stewardess "why" he must put his seat up during the meal service. Her reply, "To be polite."

Salmon w couscous. This was actually salmon with taboule. A cold salad that was nutty and oily. Not bad. Beef with mashed potatoes. The beef was chewy. Bleh. Keith had the chicken. I was shocked and disappointed to find the cheese offered was Monterey Jack. What? on Air france? Where is my brie? Also came with a spongy, chocolate-berry cake and some stale baguettes.

Airfrance, you are dead to me.

Breakfast on the plane:

some rolls with chocolate, strawberry yogurt, and coffee. I only had tea.

So, the hotel wouldn't let us check in until 2:00. We went to this place near the hotel called Die Lounge. It was dead when we got there (a little before noon).