So what's great about this blog is that it's real. None of this “my perfectly seared steak was delicious but a little lacking on the ratio of herbs-to-butter in the basil-butter topping” bullshit. I'll leave those comments to the people who think people reading actually give a shit about their acute observations and experiences with basil on a sirloin. Attention pretentious bloggers: no one had the steak that you are writing about, and therefore, no one gives a shit if the restaurant over-herbed your piece of meat. My opinion? You should have “over-herbed” yourself a little bit before you went to the steak house so that you enjoyed your steak no matter how much basil was delicately melted into that compound butter.
Tonight's post is as real as it gets in a city with unreal food. I successfully moved for the second time in 2 days today to my final resting place for the duration of Year 1 in Paris (not to worry... Year 2 will be here soon). In celebration of this momentous occasion (not really, a friend just wanted an excuse for me to come over and crush some charcuterie and wine), I went to my friend's place to have a low-key evening with some good food and booze. In preparation for this evening, I sparsely ate during the day, munching on a fresh tomato and mozzarella salad with balsamic vinegar and then a demi-baguette with butter. In return, my day of sparse eating turned my night of casual drinking into an unexpected late night walk home of inebriation. And in comes the Nestle Extreme...
I was walking down the street after hopping off the subway and I felt a real impulse for an ice cream cone. This surprised me because I'm not usually an ice cream craving kind of guy. When I get cravings, they are more of the Casey's Place cheeseburger (holler Vero Beach) or Gray's Papaya hot dog variety (not really for Gray's Papaya... I just want to see if anyone from NYC comments because of that). Nonetheless, this time, I was craving some ice cream. I was only about 2 blocks from home and it was around 1 a.m. so I was a little worried about the accessibility of ice cream at this hour. And I wasn't about to walk any further to satisfy my craving. Sure enough, I saw an open-air storefront lit up with a GIGANTIC ice cream cooler out front. I deliberated for all of about 5 seconds, and picked out the ice cream like I often pick out wines – by the label. The Nestle Extreme proved to be the winner last night and it lived up to the hype of its name. I was EXTREME-ly satisfied.
My craving for an ice cream cone last night made me think of something that I often take for granted. The beauty of living in a huge city is that you can literally find whatever you want around the corner at any time of day or night. I've gotten used to doing things based on impulse, and being able to satisfy those impulses easily at a moments notice. In Paris in particular, if I have the urge to shred up a recently rotisseried chicken for a fresh chicken salad sandwich, I can find a whole bird on a stick no more than a 5 minute walk in ANY direction. If I want a normal macaron, or even an over-sized macaron, I can find both of those things in the same store... and that store probably also sells rotisserie chickens next door. If I want a filet of cod that was recently enjoying itself in the local icy waters, I can find one before news of its death has reached its extended fish family. OK, time to go buy a baguette downstairs... chances are, it came out of the oven about 10 minutes ago.
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