Mariage Frères Tea. And then some.

Canister Love

When I last posted about Mariage Frères, I had just bought my first one.
The love affair continues.
I guess there are worse things to be obsessed with.
Oh, I know you're wondering if some of them aren't really all that good.
Well that's just crazy talk for skeptics and non-believers.
I just won't invite them to my next tea party.

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Tea Info
There are 3 Mariage Frères tea salons in Paris.

It's about half the price to buy the tea in the bags as it is in the canisters. The canisters are great, but it's harder on the pocketbook if you are obsessed like I am.

Across the street from the location in Le Marais, there is a second MF tea shop where you can sniff the teas at your leisure. You can also buy bags of tea already packaged on the shelves, as opposed to getting them packaged by the staff from bulk bins at the other locations. In other words, there is no fighting with other customers for the staff's attention. It's as self-serve as it gets.

Having tea at the salon may seem pricey to some. A pot of tea costs approximately 7 euros. But I have discovered that it provides about 6 cups of tea, so if there are 2 of you, its 3.50 each, for 3 cups of tea each, which is actually a great deal. And it is perfectly ok to just go for tea and nothing else.


It's possible that I may have a problem...


The servers provide you with a huge book filled with all the descriptions of the teas (available in many languages) so you can select one before ordering. Or sniff some in the shops attached to the salons to decide what you want to try before going in .

Word of warning: they charge 4 euros for a single madeleine. Ahem.

My current tea collection:
Boléro, Thé a L'Opéra, Vanille des Iles, Vanille Impériale, Bouddha Bleu, Thé des Impressionnistes, Sankar Bop, English Breakfast, Ruschka, and my absolute current favourite: Surabaya.

And I am a happy girl.
But I still want more. Is that wrong?


Tags:
Mariage Frères
Paris Tea
Paris

Sleeping late and sneaky tricks

Sweet Almond Financiers

"If you bake it, he will come."

These are words of infinite wisdom, although I'm not sure that anyone of infinite wisdom has actually said those words. Except for me. Just now. I've got wisdom, sure, but perhaps of the more finite variety.
But on a lazy sunday morning when you want to get your significant other to get out of bed there are 2 ways to do it which fosters joy and contentment in the household.
1. Bacon
2. Baking

No meat eating man will sleep through the smell of bacon frying nor will he be able to resist something sweet puffing up in the oven.

So perhaps now I have just revealed why I cook bacon for breakfast every Saturday morning.
I will admit that this act alone has improved my relationship with G in a way that cannot be measured. The man gets his bacon, and I get an early riser for a partner.
You may think: "What's the big deal? Sleep in a little."

If only it were that easy. I am officially allergic to sleeping in. Except for that one summer when I was twelve and I slept in every day until 2pm, stayed in my pajamas the rest of the afternoon reading the Sweet Valley High series and then happily climbed back into bed later that same night. That was the most forgettable summer I have ever spent.

This past weekend, long after the bacon was consumed there was napping. Plan A had already been executed. It was completely illogical to fry up more bacon. There was nothing to be done but resort to Plan B. The secret weapon: sugar, flour and eggs.

I decided to try this recipe for Sweet Almond Financiers. It had only 5 ingredients, and miracle of miracles, all 5 of them were in my kitchen at that very moment.
My first taste of financiers has only been in the last few months since living in Paris, so this was a big moment for me. I was assimilating, doing what the locals do (or what I imagine they do at least), and hoping the neighbours would be impressed by the sweet scent of homemade financiers drifting out into the hallway. Oh, I mean, I was hoping to wake up my boyfriend from his nap. I was only baking because I had to. I don't really enjoy it.
Right.


Sometimes I play with my food

So I baked. And then popped one swiftly into my mouth. It was moist and chewy with a subtle almond flavour, not overly sweet, with crispy, caramelized edges and a flaky top.
Unfortunately they were nothing like the financiers that I have tasted here which are more like mini muffin/sponge cake type things.
But I liked these alot. They were easy to make and got G up from the couch with a yawn, a stretch and a "What are you making?"
Mission accomplished.

The financiers consist of flour, icing sugar, almond flour (aka finely ground almonds), eggs and butter. This Williams-Sonoma recipe suggests using a 6-well silicon fluted tart mould. I used a lightly buttered non-stick, non-fluted, mini tart/muffin pan, which made 12 financiers.

Parties, leotards and celebratory tuna

Bouchons au Thon with kudos to Molly

One day a young couple moved into a Parisian apartment. It was spacious and pretty and they were happy. They bought some new furniture, they hung up some pictures and did their best to build a new home for themselves.
And then one night there was a party.
A loud one.
Fifteen pairs of feet stomping and dancing in the apartment above their heads.
The young couple grumbled a bit to themselves but they did not complain.
"We're hip, we're cool. We can handle a little noise."
When the next party occurred shortly thereafter, they stayed quiet again.
"Perhaps it's just the time of year?" they said to each other.
Then January came and another party, and another one after that, and even more followed still, one after the other. But still they did not complain. This took great strength, because this happy young couple was forced to listen to Madonna's new song "Hung Up" about 6 or 7 times per party.
"It's not such a bad song, is it?" she said to her boyfriend.
"No, I guess not."
"But I'm really starting to hate it, aren't you?"
And then the young couple discussed how unreal Madonna's leotarded bottom looks in that video. But that is neither here nor there.

Finally the girl could take it no more.
"I'm going to find the concierge!" she announced, because she loved gloating that she had a concierge. It sounded so much more frou-frou to say that than 'superintendent'.

"Please help us, we can't take it anymore!" she pleaded.
And the kind sir began to speak very, very rapidly in French. But from the look in his eye she could tell he was commiserating with her. Words flew out of his mouth and she understood some of them: no more parties, lots of complaints, next time he is calling the police. She didn't know they did that in France, but the girl was happy.

She thanked him and bid him adieu breathing a sigh of relief, and returned back to her pretty apartment and made Molly's Bouchons au Thon to celebrate. And they were great.



The bouchons

Ever since I first saw these on Molly's blog, I have wanted to try them. And they didn't disappoint. If you love tuna I think you will really love these. They are a simple combination of canned tuna, eggs, crème fraiche, onion, parsley, gruyère cheese, and tomato paste. You throw it all together and bake them in a muffin tin. It doesn't get much easier than that. They are creamy and deliciously tasty, and a fantastic change from however you might usually eat tuna.. which for me, as much as I love them, is usually a boring old tuna sandwich.
These are great as is, or with an extra dollop of crème fraiche on top and served with a salad.
Click here for Molly's Recipe

Notes:
-watery, mushy tuna can really ruin the texture of these. Find a good chunk light tuna and drain it well.
-try whipping the egg whites separately until stiff peaks form and fold it into the rest of the mixture to make the bouchons a bit airier and less dense.

Window shopping

I'm having a word with the bird. Don't bug me.

Cheerio dear friend and toodaloo

In the last days of 2005 I received an email from Cindy:
"Will you be my best friend between January 10 and 31st?"
I pondered the question and I wrote back:
"Sure, sounds great. Although I'm wondering if I shouldn't somehow be offended."
But her reasons were sound. She would not only be done culinary school but she would also be finally free of the innumerable houseguests she seemed to have for the whole of November and December which made her difficult to pin down. Now it was just her and Paris and I guess she thought the experience would be far more exciting if she added me to the mix before she finally left Paris for good on January 31st.

Well, it is now February 1st, and Cindy has packed her bags and returned to Chicago. And in her wake, I am left with these kind gifts: microwave popcorn, Campbell's soup, baking powder and other such interesting things that had taken residence in her kitchen cupboards these last few months.

This past weekend was her last so I stepped up to my role in my final days as her new best friend. Saturday night, she joined G and I at our place for a night of movie watching, which saw us go partway through 2 movies that bored us all before we finally settled on the thrilling action of a Vin Diesel flic. Cindy marvelled at the pretzels I had found and after eating one said:
"This is the first pretzel I have eaten in 6 months."
"Wow, that's a long time." I said.
"Sure is." She said.

On Sunday Cindy and I toured the Père Lachaise cemetery. We looked for Oscar Wilde but couldn't find him. But we did say hello to Jim Morrison and Balzac before we got too cold and had to high-tail it out of there.


At Père Lachaise cemetery

On Monday, Cindy and I met at Ladurée on the Champs Elysées for our final goodbye tea.
I ordered the Thé Royale aux Fruits and she ordered some sort of yummy tea whose name I can't remember.
Then she asked for a madeleine.
"We're out of madeleines." our server said.
"How about a financier?" I offered.
"We're out of those too."
"Cannelés?" I tried.
"Sorry. No cannelés either."
Nonetheless we enjoyed our tea and then Cindy showed the Ladurée crowd what it's all about:
In that posh tea room, with all the well-dressed French women, probably back from a shopping trip to the nearby Louis Vuitton, Cindy removed her sweater to reveal her green t-shirt with a picture of the state of Illinois on the front, and the caption "Come on Feel the IlliNOISE".
"I like your shirt." I said.
"Thanks." Cindy responded. "This tea is really good."
"Mine too."

And thus ends the story of Cindy and Michèle in Paris.
Aw Cindy, I'm going to miss you.