The Sweet Life in Paris: Delicious Adventures in the World's Most Glorious - and Perplexing - City by David Lebovitz Page A
Authors: David Lebovitz
Tags: Travel, Essays & Travelogues
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it going?” does nicely. The worst is if they ask you a question that requires a thoughtful response, like, “That ice cream you brought us last week was delicious. How did you make it?” or “Can you move your basket since it’s blocking all the others?”
Whether you know the person or not, be sure to fix your gaze squarely on the merchant and don’t make eye contact with anyone else. Just the vendor. If you glance at the others, like that
salope
you blindsided for the last bunch of radishes she was lurching toward, you may incite another international incident.
Have correct change. If you’re buying a head of lettuce and hand the fellow a fifty-euro note, you’re going to be stuck there for a few uncomfortable minutes while he rifles through his pockets, gathering and unwrinkling assorted bills and fishing for coins. You want to get in and out of there before the people in line have a chance to figure out they’ve been had.
But mostly it’s all about
l’attitude.
Do not for one minute think that you don’t belong in front of those other people. I mean, who do they think they are? Don’t they know that you have more important things to do than wait behind them in line?
So if you come to Paris and you want to wait your turn patiently, that’s your choice. Should you see a man barreling through the market, cutting a wide swath with a wicker basket, jangling a bunch of change in his hand, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Unless you’d prefer to have me nudging you from behind. Just don’t expect me to buy you a drink first.
TRAVERS DE PORC
PORK RIBS
MAKES 6 SERVINGS
Although you’ll often see
travers de porc
(pork ribs) for sale at the markets, if you see them in a restaurant, they’re rarely grilled or barbecued, the way we cook them in America. I don’t think too many restaurants here have barbeque pits, but if anyone knows of one, please let me know!
On my first day at cooking school at Lenôtre years ago, as we all sat down to eat in the cafeteria, another student (from Denmark) commented, “Aren’t you going to put ketchup on everything, like all Americans do?”
I pointed out, sarcastically, that, unlike his country, America is a large and very diverse place, and we don’t all eat the same thing.
Americans do have a reputation for being ketchup lovers, although the French seem to enjoy it, too. And now you can find big plastic bottles in French (and probably Danish) supermarkets with Old Glory waving in the background on the label.
I’m not all that enamored of ketchup myself, but it does give the ribs I roastin my oven a close-to-down-home taste. Ribs are one of the few foods you’ll see Parisians picking up and eating with their hands. Heck, I caught one licking his fingers when he thought I wasn’t looking!
⅔ cup (160 ml) soy sauce (regular or low-salt)
⅓ cup (80 ml) ketchup
8 garlic cloves, peeled and finely minced
1-inch (3-cm) piece of fresh ginger, peeled and finely minced
2 teaspoons chile powder or Asian chile paste
2 tablespoons molasses
2 tablespoons dark rum
½ cup (125 ml) orange juice
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
Freshly ground black pepper
4 pounds (2 kg) pork ribs, trimmed of excess fat, cut into 6-inch (15-cm) sections
Preheat the oven to 325°F (160°C).
In a large roasting pan, mix the soy sauce, ketchup, garlic, ginger, chile powder, molasses, rum, orange juice, mustard, and pepper.
Add the ribs and slather the marinade over both sides thoroughly. Cover and bake for 2 hours. While they’re baking, turn the ribs a few times in the marinade.
Uncover and continue to cook, turning the ribs at 15-minute intervals, for an additional 1 to 1½ hours, until the juices have reduced and thickened and the meat easily pulls away from the bones. The exact time depends on how quickly the liquid reduces and how lean the ribs are.
SERVING: Cut the racks into individual ribs and serve.
STORAGE: Pork ribs are just as good the next day. Cut them into riblets before
Whether you know the person or not, be sure to fix your gaze squarely on the merchant and don’t make eye contact with anyone else. Just the vendor. If you glance at the others, like that
salope
you blindsided for the last bunch of radishes she was lurching toward, you may incite another international incident.
Have correct change. If you’re buying a head of lettuce and hand the fellow a fifty-euro note, you’re going to be stuck there for a few uncomfortable minutes while he rifles through his pockets, gathering and unwrinkling assorted bills and fishing for coins. You want to get in and out of there before the people in line have a chance to figure out they’ve been had.
But mostly it’s all about
l’attitude.
Do not for one minute think that you don’t belong in front of those other people. I mean, who do they think they are? Don’t they know that you have more important things to do than wait behind them in line?
So if you come to Paris and you want to wait your turn patiently, that’s your choice. Should you see a man barreling through the market, cutting a wide swath with a wicker basket, jangling a bunch of change in his hand, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Unless you’d prefer to have me nudging you from behind. Just don’t expect me to buy you a drink first.
TRAVERS DE PORC
PORK RIBS
MAKES 6 SERVINGS
Although you’ll often see
travers de porc
(pork ribs) for sale at the markets, if you see them in a restaurant, they’re rarely grilled or barbecued, the way we cook them in America. I don’t think too many restaurants here have barbeque pits, but if anyone knows of one, please let me know!
On my first day at cooking school at Lenôtre years ago, as we all sat down to eat in the cafeteria, another student (from Denmark) commented, “Aren’t you going to put ketchup on everything, like all Americans do?”
I pointed out, sarcastically, that, unlike his country, America is a large and very diverse place, and we don’t all eat the same thing.
Americans do have a reputation for being ketchup lovers, although the French seem to enjoy it, too. And now you can find big plastic bottles in French (and probably Danish) supermarkets with Old Glory waving in the background on the label.
I’m not all that enamored of ketchup myself, but it does give the ribs I roastin my oven a close-to-down-home taste. Ribs are one of the few foods you’ll see Parisians picking up and eating with their hands. Heck, I caught one licking his fingers when he thought I wasn’t looking!
⅔ cup (160 ml) soy sauce (regular or low-salt)
⅓ cup (80 ml) ketchup
8 garlic cloves, peeled and finely minced
1-inch (3-cm) piece of fresh ginger, peeled and finely minced
2 teaspoons chile powder or Asian chile paste
2 tablespoons molasses
2 tablespoons dark rum
½ cup (125 ml) orange juice
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
Freshly ground black pepper
4 pounds (2 kg) pork ribs, trimmed of excess fat, cut into 6-inch (15-cm) sections
Preheat the oven to 325°F (160°C).
In a large roasting pan, mix the soy sauce, ketchup, garlic, ginger, chile powder, molasses, rum, orange juice, mustard, and pepper.
Add the ribs and slather the marinade over both sides thoroughly. Cover and bake for 2 hours. While they’re baking, turn the ribs a few times in the marinade.
Uncover and continue to cook, turning the ribs at 15-minute intervals, for an additional 1 to 1½ hours, until the juices have reduced and thickened and the meat easily pulls away from the bones. The exact time depends on how quickly the liquid reduces and how lean the ribs are.
SERVING: Cut the racks into individual ribs and serve.
STORAGE: Pork ribs are just as good the next day. Cut them into riblets before
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