A Week in Bretagne: Cancale

Packing a suitcase to the max for every possible weather condition, armed with a sack full of Ranger Cookies and an appetite for fruits de le mer, I folded myself into the back seat of a tiny Japanese car, and along with Madame V, Madame M, and a long haired chihuahua named "Brutus", trundled toward the region of Bretagne and the quaint little village of Cancale. Bretagne is known for her fresh seafood, fresh cream, and sel de mer (sea salt), and the quiet fishing villages that dot the jagged coastline have been home to le pecheur for many a century. Windblown and sauvage, the islands that jut out from the sea have witnessed many a shipwreck, from invading marauders to those who have salt water coarsing through their veins, and small altars dedicated to the marins lost at sea can be seen everywhere. Cancale is a petite gem, with a boardwalk one can traverse in a matter of moments, lined with cafés featuring fresh oysters, gift shops offering the usual, and a town pub where the locals meet daily to share a beer and a good debate. One block behind the waterfront are two rows of three storied stone houses, their shutters painted bright blue and green, geraniums spilling out of planters attached to the windowsills. Many of these homes are summer getaways, and some have been converted into a clé vacances (vacation rentals). The rest are occupied by native Cancalese, some in the family for generations! We chose a good time of year to visit - mid June, before the tourists descend en masse, bused in from the Nederlands, ferried in from England, and motoring in from Paris to spend July and August at the seaside. We arrived at low tide, and had a clear view of the oyster beds below. Oysters are to Cancale what Buffalo Bill is to Cody, Wyoming - that is, everything! Vendors sell their harvest everyday from little booths installed permanently at the foot of the pier, and you can have them shucked for you and eat them on the spot. It's just the thing after a promenade along the hillside, a nature trail that is civilized enough for the timid, yet peppered with enough variety to keep the avid hiker interested. Affording one stunning views of the ocean beyond, the famous Mont St. Michel can be seen on a clear day, her unmistakeable shape a beacon in the horizon. If you are very brave, you can have a dip in the Atlantic, but men beware of shrinkage! The water is so cold year round it will be three days before you see the boys. Centre Ville (downtown) is a 15 minute walk inland, it's main focus a Gothic style church with a decidedly nautical theme and an impressive pipe organ. The village boulangerie has a line outside the door each morning, and is naturally closed on Mondays - it was here that Madame V bought a death-by-chocolate cake to celebrate my birthday. Nobody but nobody makes gateaux like the french, with their rich chocolate and fresh cream from free range, happy cows. It's a laid back vacation destination, perfect if you like long walks near the beach, oysters on the half shell, and peace and quiet. (Off season, that is!) Next door is St. Malo, famous for her thermal waters and spa treatments. We shall visit her next!

Your Friday French Fashion Report: Sonia Rykiel Fall/Winter Collection 2011/2012

Evocative of French Resistance agents of WWII, the Sonia Rykiel Collection for Fall/Winter 2011 brings to mind the streets of 1940's Paris, with it's eclectic mélange of textures and patterns that is uniquely Sonia. Known for her sweaters, she layers expertly without losing the body, and her pairing of clunky shoes with evening wear is nothing new, but daring nonetheless! Sonja always projects a sense of humor with her designs, and this seasons Pendleton inspired plaid blanket pants are no exception - perfect for an crisp fall afternoon at an Ivy League football game, fringe and all! Choose a formidable leather handbag as your top accessory priority for autumn, perhaps in an eye popping colour to contrast with a neutral palette. Bonus Video: Interview with the artist Sonia Rykiel from her Paris apartment!

Fashiontv | Sonia Rykiel Show Fall 2011 Paris Fashion Week | fashiontv ...

Sonia Rykiel exhibits personal drawings in Paris

Le Cuisine: The JJR Café

As I have mentioned in previous articles, dining in Paris is frought with hazards - from overpriced slop marketed to unsuspecting tourists, to overpriced crap served to Parisians vying for the best location sur le terrace, and one must "choose carefoolie zee restaurant" as my friend Madame M insists. Sometimes you find the best places quite by accident, as happened to me just the other day. It was not my intention to have dinner out as I hopped the train into Paris, and made my way toward Gare du Nord and the Indian Quarter. I was on a mission - I have had a craving for Mexican food lately (being from Southern California), and decided to learn how to make tortillas from scratch, (the availability of quality ingredients is highly questionable here.) I read gobs of info on the subject, most of it concerning a handy little tool called a "tortilla press". I was considering ordering one, until I discovered the shipping alone would be a cool $75.00! It was then the proverbial light bulb appeared over my head, perhaps a similar tool is used to make flatbread for Indian cuisine! The metro pulled into Gare du Nord, and I wound my way through the maze of underground tunnels, following the signs toward sortie Rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis. Once on the street I immediately felt the vibe of the neighborhood, a microchasm of inner city clichés. A small gang of teenaged bad boys lounged on the railings near the entrance to the metro, smoking cigarettes with an attitude and leering at everything in a skirt. An elderly Indian woman in a sari of saffron and purple silk pushed a stroller with her grandchildren in tow, shops full of traditional clothing, brightly colored and boasting a very "special price" lined the street. Little markets crammed full of strange looking roots and deadly chili peppers were my destination, in search of the elusive tortilla press (or a reasonable facsimile). The air was rich with the aroma of exotic spices, and the strains of Indian disco wafted through the air from a little shop selling Bollywood style DVD's. Women were at the market buying fresh ingredients for the evening meal, while men were gathered in little groups outside the neighborhood barber and the tabaconist. I marveled at the prices, it is much cheaper to buy spices here, and you can find other exotic ingredients you cannot in a supermarket. I did not find a press, (there was a similar item that pressed and cooked, but I was not convinced) but I found my appetite - all these aromatic ingredients on the shelves were having a Pavlovian effect on my psyche! It had been a long time since I have had Indian cuisine, the reason being the usual restaurants are mediocre beyond description. I hit the pavement in search of the most interesting prospect. There were any number of possibilities, little dives with pre-prepared takeout in a glass case, and two or three tiny tables squeezed in along one wall. Then I noticed what appeared to be the neighborhood "haunt". If you want a good meal anywhere in the world, eat where the locals do, I always say! A friendly waiter greeted me with a smile and offered me a seat, placing a large sheet of green waxed paper on the chipped formica table to serve as a tablecloth. I was the only "gringo" the the place, and I was eyed with curiosity by the regulars. A little girl stared at me with big brown eyes and a bright smile as she sipped her lassi, and I caught a whiff of sambal oleck that made my eyes and my mouth water. I ordered a samosa as a starter, and have never had better. People wandered in and out, laughing with the cook, shaking hands with my waiter Nazim, stopping in for a quick snack of parota garnished with chutney, or a refreshing beer. It was noisy, and divey, and fabulous! I had chicken vindaloo that was to die, which was served with a generous portion of rice. A piece of nan and a mango lassi completed the meal, and l'addition was less than 15 euros. The food tasted like I had wandered into Grandma's house, and she was cooking as she had been all her life! The JJR Café is located at 187 rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis, metro lignes 2, 4, or 5, RER B or D. Service continué 11/11.

Sunday with Madame V

Sunday's in Paris are all about relaxation; family and friends, big lunches and long walks, and of course, art! I had a rendezvous with Madame V for lunch and a visit to our favorite atelier on this fine Sunday morning, a tropical and balmy day seldom experienced in this particular parallel. We met in her "quarter", and it was pleasant to stroll to le "Butte aux Cailles", (Quail Hill) and lunch in what Madame V would call a "veree sympatique" café known as "Le Café du Commerce". Cozy, unpretentious, and sensibly priced, it is a little gem, and Madame V and I lingered over our dessert of apple crumble and tea until our perky serveuse prompted our departure delicately (by stacking chairs from outside). My saumon was delicious and cooked to perfection, and they even had "mashies" and offered a basket of whole grain bread! V always knows the best places to eat, and I am highly recommending the Café du Commerce to anyone searching Paris for something good to eat. Well fed, (perhaps too well), I followed my expert guide through the historic, narrow, cobbled streets, the sun warming my skin as the wine warmed my belly, and I realized we had arrived at Place l'Italie - I am still connecting the dots! After a rather unpleasant ride on the metro, (the unseasonably hot weather has caused the trains to reek of "B.O." two months earlier than normal), we emerged into the fresh air and onto Rue de Rivoli, and voila! Our funny atelier, with the giant red and white polka-dot culottes hanging from the front of the building. I love this place! We perused, laughed at the quirkness of certain pieces, and were entertained by "Francesco", a piece of work if there ever was one. It's a joy to support the arts, and Madame V and I bought little thumbnail aquarelles for each other, signed on the back with a bonus tableau and a flourish by Francesco himself. A fine Sunday afternoon, Merci, Madame!

Meet Francesco; Art in Action!

Your Friday French Fashion Report: Ermanno Scervino Fall/Winter 2011

It's sad but true; nothing in fashion is new! My grandmother once told me "If you live long enough, you'll see everything come around again", and she was right. And while the Fall/Winter Collection 2011 by Ermanno Scervino is a mélange of styles regurgitated from the 70's and 80's, somehow the collection seems fresh with it's slender silhouettes and monochromatic palette. Androgeny waxes feminine ala 1980's St. Laurent, with tailored trousers that take one anywhere. The daring backless pantsuit stubbornly makes another attempt at relevance yet another season, and the cape is modified into a rather chic 21st century carcoat. I was suprised to see shorts with tights, as this fashion statement seems to have seen it's day in the streets of Paris - being all that in 2009, and noticeably less so in 2010, and were those socks with sandals?! Must have's for Fall 2011: Ankle boots, Groovy car coat (semi cape), slim tailored trousers.

ERMANNO SCERVINO AI 2011-2012