I'll start by writing about my wildly exciting social life here in France. Last weekend Lee and Dani's friend Ben invited us to a real live french party. I have to admit, I was pretty excited. My stomach wasn't quiite back to normal yet, but I was ready to party with the meilleur (that means "best" in french, duh) of them.
We managed to find the heart of paris' hipsters population in this one apartment. Everyone had a "unique" hairstyle fit for some kind of fashion show. Everyone looked like they hadn't showered in a while (although i guess that's france for you). One girl was even wearing tights with underwear over them and a cut off sweatshirt. If that's not a hipster fashion statement, I don't know what is. Now I can't say that I party much in Bushwick Brooklyn, but if I did, I would have felt right at home at this party. Oh wait- i can't forget the cigarettes. In lieu of an ash tray at this party there was a bowl- a big one, one you'd use to put out chips or bake or something- of butts. Unbelievably disgusting.
Despite the abundance of smoke and the lack of pants, it was a nice foray into the french social scene. Maybe next time I'll actually work up the courage to talk to people...
Sunday I woke up hungry and ready for our group "family" dinner. My four friends and I decided that Sundays would be the perfect time to make group dinners- no french recipes to follow, no butter required, and plenty of coloration. Ali offered to take the lead in executing our first dinner- an italian feast. (She grew up in a big Italian family from Staten Island. Think, My Big Fat Greek Wedding only Italian). We arrived at the boys' house at 2 to begin the cooking.
It started with the sauce. Crushed tomatoes, onions garlic. Yum. Then onto the meatballs. Pork, veal and beef mixed together by hand combined with egg, ,bread crumbs and milk. Ali formed these into perfectly shaped spheres- a true pro. A little browning in the pan, finish cooking in the sauce, and voilà! Spaghetti and meatballs, chicken cutlets, eggplant parmigiana... What an incredible dinner. I love being friends with culinary students!
As soon as we sat down to eat, all conversation ceased. I consider this the sign of a good meal. I'm pretty sure we all went to sleep feeling sick that night, but it was well worth it. Then bright and early Monday morning back to school. Ready for fish week? Oui, chef!
I believe You do party in Bushwick, but rather against your will. As I remember it, I dragged you to an awesome (though not quite as awesome French-ash-tray-as-bowl party) in a neighborhood you confused with Murdertown, USA. Just sayin'.
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