Green Tea Truffles from Sadaharu Aoki

Truffes ivoires au mâcha - Green tea, white chocolate ruffles from Sadaharu Aoki


I don't know if it's dedication or insanity that stopped me mid-truffle so I could take a picture. Is it a good thing or a bad thing that my bite marks have been captured forever and posted on my blog? Perhaps there is some dentist somewhere thinking to him or herself: "Hmm, I see a slight misalignment of the lower left lateral."

In any case, I said I would tell you about the truffles so here I am. And oy. They were good.
I bought these at Sadaharu Aoki, along with a few choice macarons while I was in Paris. I have this thing for green tea flavoured what-nots. These little bundles had a nice powdery outside, and a creamy/ganachy green tea filling enveloped in a thin layer of white chocolate. I would definitely buy these again but maybe one of my kind friends in Paris will see fit to send me some if I don't get back there anytime soon.

Also, there is something kind of girly about eating truffles that just makes you feel like someone should be pouring you champagne and admiring your shoes. In the case of this final truffle, I was wearing a pair of socks, with a glass of water at hand, and no one else was in the room. Not quite glamorous but it certainly didn't make the truffle taste any less divine.
I miss them already.
Thank god for the picture.


Patisserie Sadaharu Aoki
56 boulevard de Port Royal
Paris, 75005

Paris in August

My Frankenstein tomato: Expertly stitched by Mother Nature herself.

Sunday mornings are my favourite day of the week, and I like to move slowly. I usually get up early but there's something I like about puttering around the house without an agenda on Sundays while G sleeps in. If it's raining, so much the better. For whatever reason, this Sunday, I left G dozing in bed and headed to the Raspail market in the 6th. It's organic on Sundays and because it was after 9am, I was expecting it to be bustling. But then I remembered: it's August, and nothing is bustling in Paris right now. The city is, comparatively at least, a ghost town.

My concierge informed me that every apartment in my building but 2 is currently empty. It seems everyone in France has a summer house and they high tail it out of here as soon as they can.

Needless to say, it has been very, very quiet.

It is a great time to be in the city-- to watch it sleep, so to speak, and to experience it in this rare sense of calm. There are tourists, but not many. Many of the shops are closed and you may have to find a new bakery to keep you stocked with baguettes until yours reopens at the end of the month. Sometimes you find yourself cursing at the inconvenience, but then you quickly realize that this temporary silence is well worth it.

I took a long walk after I'd filled my bags with strange tomatoes at the market. I stopped at a health food store to replenish my bulghur supply, headed for the best baguette in Paris only to find that the bakery was closed, and then headed to Alléosse to gaze at their world of cheeses and marvel still at how at this time of year I can walk in there and find the store empty of customers. I said hello and took my sweet, sweet time.


Cheese from Alléosse
front: Cabris Gors (goat cheese)
middle: Manchego
back: Cheddar fermier

I finally had to call it quits when I could feel a blister forming on the bottom of my foot and my watch told me that I had been walking for over 2 hours. I came home, kicked off my shoes and promptly took a nap. It was not even 11:30am, and I still had the whole quiet day to kill.
Without a doubt, Paris in August is so much better than Paris in July..


Raspail Market
Boulevard Raspail between rue du Cherche-Midi and rue de Rennes
Metro: Rennes
Tuesday and Friday, 7 am to 2.30 pm
Sunday mornings--organic.

Maison du Chocolat.. because I haven't had any chocolate in a whole week.

Brésilien from Maison du Chocolat, with my fingerprint
on the side because I am clumsy.

Is it a good thing or a bad thing when you discover that there is a Maison du Chocolat within a 15 minute walk from your apartment? Does it mean anything when you find yourself trudging through the pouring rain, your hair all a-frizz, your pants soaking wet and dragging on the pavement, just to get yourself to said chocolate mecca? It can only be assumed that it means you are there to get your chocolate on, as they say. And so I did.


A girl's best friend. A box wrapped with a bow, and filled with chocolate.

The chocolate at Maison du Chocolat is, to state the obvious, lovely. But what I found rather distracting upon first entering the shop were the saleswomen. Firstly because there was at least 5 of them bustling about this tiny store, and secondly, because they were all identically dressed in brown tailored suits with fine orange piping along the lapels. Think Charlie's Angels meets Brownies. (You know, before you're old enough to be a Girl Scout they stick you in brown and orange and call you a Brownie?). At first it caught me off guard. My brain was distracted from the chocolate with the following series of thoughts:

"Ew. Brownie flashback." Followed by:
"Wait, that's kind of cool." And then:
"Hmm. Now I'm not sure. Is it retro-chic or is it just plain ugly?" Head tilted to help me think.
"Whoever designed those is either crazy or a genius. " Momentary pause, with furrowed brow.
"I'm stumped... Oh, are those truffles?" Chocolate wins again.


Marroni from Maison du Chocolat

It need not be said that the chocolate here is expensive, although the single serving cakes are a reasonable indulgence. You can buy yourself a little slice of magic for under 5 euros, depending on what you select. I choose the Brésilien- chocolate and coffee, and the Marroni- chocolate and chestnut at €4.60 each.
To share with my boyfriend, of course.
You do believe me, don't you?

The Optional Reading (Or me trying to describe how it tasted)

The Brésilien had a nice coffee flavour, not overwhelming, just perfect for me. The texture of the cake was dense and moist, luscious even. The cake itself struck me as being much less sweet than I expected. And then I realized how this works. The cake is a little light on the sweetness, while the ganache borders on too sweet. If each bite you take includes both, then Houston, we have harmony. I did like this one, and would buy it again. But of course I intend to make the rounds through a few more in their line before I start repeating. It's hard work, I know.

The Marroni did not excite me. The chestnut filling tasted as though it was doused in rum, and it became the dominant flavour. Unfortunately the ingredients are not listed on their website, so I can't confirm the inclusion of rum. (Nor could I confirm the spelling of the names) The chestnut layer was also a bit airier than the rest, which seemed not to work as nicely as the Brésilien did, which was fairly consistent in density throughout. I realize some people may like the inclusion of a fluffier layer, but I generally do not. The chocolate part of it was good, and the ganache as well, but I would not buy this one again.

These cakes are not nearly as big as they may appear in the pictures. Seen in person some might actually consider them small but in fact they are perfectly sized considering how rich and decadent they are.

For the love of chocolate..

Patrick Roger milk chocolate almond bar

I was recently tagged for a second meme by Beth from Zen Foodism, which asks us to select our most wine friendly meal of the last 30 days. My general theory is that there is no meal that is not in some way enhanced by a glass of wine. Yes, even if its hot dogs with twinkies on the side. But for the sake of the meme, I put my thinking cap on and one thing in particular kept coming to mind.

My friends, it is no secret I am a girl with rather simple tastes. And I beg to differ with anyone who tries to convince me that a chocolate bar is not a meal in itself. If its big and delicious, and you eat the whole thing in one shot, well, it kind of is.

And I will not argue that this Patrick Roger milk chocolate almond bar could not be enjoyed entirely on its own. But, if you're going to indulge, why not go all the way.

This past week, I made my way into the Patrick Roger boutique for my first time, with a man who definitely knows his chocolate. When he tells you that this is some of his favourite chocolate, you don't take that information lightly. You pull out your wallet and you get down to the business of selecting. As if the recommendation isn't enough, the packaging is very reminiscent of the Tiffany's blue, a colour that is hard for any girl to resist.

I carried that chocolate around with me all afternoon, pretending not to notice it but truthfully, I could think of nothing else. When I got home, I told myself I would open it just enough to take some pictures. I carefully unwrapped it and one glimpse at those perfectly shaped almonds and I was done for. There was no holding back, nor was there even time to open a bottle of wine. But had I had the foresight, and the willpower, I would have. I guess I'll just have to go back and get another one and stop for some wine along the way.



Patrick Roger
108 boulevard St-Germain
75006 Paris

I found my thrill..

my loot..

Friday morning started like every other day this past week. At 9:30am I stepped out of our apartment building and began the now familiar walk towards the river Seine. The sun was shining, but I had my umbrella with me just in case. I had gotten caught in two downpours the day before and I was determined that it would not happen to me again.


post rain

As I walked along the Quai de Bourbon, a riverside road on the north side of Ile St. Louis, I saw a man standing down by the water. I could faintly hear music coming from his direction. As I passed him from up on the street I could hear him playing a flute, and the happy Irish tune that drifted up to the road brought a smile to my face. Although I couldn't help but wonder if he was also nursing a few pints of Guinness down there. Either way I enjoyed the music as I wandered by.



I continued walking, all the while admiring the river and the weather, and I noticed that the leaves are already starting to fall in Paris. As I crossed over the bridge from Ile St. Louis towards Notre Dame on Ile de la Cite, I heard more music. An aged and bearded man was sitting on the bridge playing an accordion. These are the moments that a small town Canadian girl like me savours in a city such as Paris. I felt as though the moment could only have been made better if I had been wearing a beret. Or riding by on an old bicycle with a bundle of baguettes sticking out of a wicker basket on the front. If you come to Paris and see a goofy girl riding around like that, it's probably going to be me.



The crowds had already started to converge on Notre Dame, snapping photos and admiring the architecture. I zigzagged my way around them as best I could. After barely 2 weeks, I'm already starting to dodge them like an old pro. But my camera is a dead giveaway, there's no hiding the fact that I'm kind of new here.

When I finally arrived at my destination I was awestruck by the view. I stood frozen in one spot, my heart skipped a beat. My eyes could barely focus as they strained to absorb what they were seeing.

My friends, I was not at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Nor was I lingering at its base. I was not standing at the Arc de Triomphe looking down the length of the Champs Elysees. Nor was I pondering Mona Lisa's smile. The place I had found myself made my heart beat faster than any tourist attraction. I was at La Grande Epicerie de Paris. And I was sure that I would never want to leave.

Imagine, if you will, the grocery store of your dreams. And then force yourself to imagine something much, much better than that. Perhaps this is quite normal for Paris. Perhaps my feelings of awe and wonder would seem a tad exaggerated to some. But again, I'm just a small town Canadian girl who is easily excited.

With trembling hands I reached for a basket, my mind reeling at the discoveries that lay ahead of me. I strolled at a most leisurely pace, turning my head left and right, afraid to miss a single thing. I felt like a kid on my first day of school; overwhelmed and nervous, but ready for the adventure. I admired the preserves, jams and jellies, the oils and vinegars, pastas in shapes and colours that I had never seen before. Sea salts and spices, chocolates and teas, cheese, meat, freshly baked bread, foie gras.. it was all there. And the prepared foods left me feeling that I would never have to cook again. From couscous to quiches to terrines, I wanted to try it all. These foods were fine enough to serve to the queen, should she happen to drop in on you one day.

I came home with a comparatively boring bundle of stuff. But there is a reason for that. Is it because I'm insane? Well, possibly. But, the truth is that when I am overwhelmed with choices I have no greater fear than making the wrong one. I would hate to come home with the black and white bow tie pasta and then wish I had bought the pasta shaped like party hats with those pretty stripes in pale pink and yellow. So I tend to settle on something more mundane and familiar. Something that leaves no room for second thoughts. A girl can only handle so much excitement at once. But now that I've had a chance to absorb it all, I will enter prepared on my next trip. I know that I will again be dazzled, but this time I'll be ready for it. Whether it's party hats or bow ties, there will be some funky stuff in my basket next time. And I'll be sure to tell you all about it.

La Grande Epicerie de Paris
38, rue de Sevres
75007, Paris

The loot that I brought home with me (pictured at the top) consisted of Petit Ciabatta rolls, a Baguette Nordique, sundried tomato pesto, balsamic vinegar, Tomme d'Auvergnes and Saint Nectaire cheeses, curly (but safe and somewhat familiar) pasta, and I couldn't resist a wee pot of prepared Bearnaise sauce. Because you just never know when the queen might drop in.

P.S. My new computer, which originally promised a 2 to 3 day delivery time, finally arrived yesterday after almost 3 weeks. Oh happy day!