Finer

The Hunger

Salamugundi

L'Est

I forget where I had last let off before I spilled my findings, but that really didn’t matter. I had thrown my things in a bag and prepared myself for what was to come next. I skipped meetings, turned down requests and shunned what I probably shouldn’t have been shunning. I had things to do, or so I told myself. There was a lot of the word ‘myself’ being thrown around. I wondered if anybody had noticed, but it didn’t really mind me. ‘Me’ - funny that I mention the word, it’s merely a filler for ‘myself.’

The previous day I had stumbled past that clump of stones on top of the hill. It overlooked the Seine with a mien that exuded a bit of panache yet with slight scruples, as if it knew where it had ‘fallen.’ It did not bother me though – nothing really did at the time. Instead I walked past, nodded and continued on with my day. I had a spiraling path to follow and a break in-between. Indeed, I took a rest on the bench half-way down but only long enough that I could collect my thoughts, store them somewhere, then leave them be for the next bastard that might perch himself upon the same blotch of the bench.

I eventually made my way back down, past the scads of coots and hoots yet stopped at a small shop. At the window an itsy-bitsy perfume bottle, delicate enough that you could see through the fragility of its faded tangerine-hued body. I wanted to tap on the window and see it fall, but it reminded me too much of better times in the past. Instead I smirked a little smirk and nodded a faint bit. The store was closed - which probably was for the better – for I know I would’ve been tempted to buy it.

My walk continued on in a brisk fashion, striding past the old haunts of the near past and dwelling on how different it is to see the world without a cloud of confusion after carousing about town. There was something about Sterling that I just couldn’t put a finger on. I admired the exclusivity of the entire bit, but at the same time I knew I’d never come in contact with her. She was an allurement of mine. Fascinating, but not too fascinating. Unique, but not too unique. The essence of it was already depreciating, so all I had to wait for was until things settled down. Or up? There’d be later days to figure out how to count the stacks and build them up. For now I had to focus on how to transverse past affairs like that.

On Samedi I made the effort to live up to what I had earlier preached. It was the virile thing to do – especially if you wanted to fit in with the lads. We spoke of long-lusted desires and how swiftly one could break into breakneck speed without breaking any actual necks. That one pecker really knew what he was talking about though. I fancied his form and expertise on the subject – not in a venereal way but rather it was a civil courtesy, just to let him know that he had formed some good habits. Fuckers like to mix things up all too often. You give them a bite to eat and they run with it – really made me want to throw out a steak this time instead of a slice or two.

By the time I had stared enough at Bacon and the like, I realized the Isles weren’t necessarily worth the trek. Instead I opted for the real fleisch. Made me hungry as a pig, if you will. The temptation of it all reminded me of Lipton then. Sterling and Lipton – a winning combination. What more could you need besides a bag and a handful of patina-veiled clumps. I had chained together the proper steps, so all I needed to do was go through with it. I had already done my time in the corridor of numbness. It was time to experience life a little.

Right before I dug in, I excavated a bit elsewhere – this time a little closer to home. I journeyed - or rather explored by accident – an area that mirrored what I had only imagined. Conrad was right when he spoke of opposite understandings and the fallacy of truth. You really had to put yourself in the shit so that you could feel the reality of it all. As brave as I was, I was still a coward though. For me it was just a journey. For the innate, this was home. I was disgusted with myself. As usual I kept close to what was mine and stayed away from what was theirs. I couldn’t immerse myself no matter how much I tried.

When I returned it made me think about what really does go on beyond your own proximity and knowledge. You can seek and you can explore, but you’ll always be an outsider until you think you make it in. Even then, there are the doubts and the confusions. The exploring can get you places, but they aren’t always on the route you had originally planned – or thought you were on. Guides and hints along the way are to be taken with salt – but of course one should not forget the pepper. One without the other would be like steak without the utensils. Are we supposed to down the fucker in one bite? That’s quite the gulp I’d say.

The second journey was a bit longer, a bit deeper and a bit more enjoyable. I worked a little harder this time around – mainly because I wanted more out of it. The satisfaction of the last trek turned me off a bit – something wasn’t right about it, or it wasn’t foreign enough. Who doesn’t crave something they can’t have often? The usual becomes the mundane. The foreign becomes the desired. But when you get it – does that turn whatever was once hands-off to hands-on? By reaching your goals are you actually just burning the end of your own list? Destroying the lure that had initially brought you in?

For a moment I felt like Krohn: Animated yet empty. I was talking out of my ass. The ass began making more sense than me. Who the fuck knew how to speak properly anymore anyways? Mouth versus ass: What a wonderful, common conundrum. I was bumbling around, rattling off sounds that no man wanted to hear. Yet they played along. I got what I wanted – but what about them? Ass-mouth. That was it. A new name for the foreigner. The one who knew nothing other than how to make sounds with an orifice that sounded more like the neighbor next door, down the street, past the scenic sights and deep in the shit. Lovely trip. Call me a journeyman.

I met folks that knew folks of other folks but for what fucking folk-minded reason? We all were journeymen – seeking the thrill but only through protection. None of us actually were raw from it because we had planned out what we wanted to do. You aren’t a rogue until you really rough it like a natural. The use and ease of the tools around us made us pussies, actually. F. Puss times ten. Sometimes twelve. At the first stop, times thirty-two. Excuse me, trente-deux. More like, “Friend plus vapid din.” Shit-mouth. Ass-mouth. Din din.

The best part about it had to be the drinking. I’d drink every hour on the hour. It became a game within the game. Players were set up and this was a mere tool to get me going. I know it was bit of a cheat, but I had little to no care for such petty nonsense. By then, we all were slobbering pussies – satisfied, a bit off and incredibly tired. All I wanted to do was sleep. So we did.

FROMAGE

4 February 09
Cheese: Saint Morgon, Presidente
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 2.30€/250g
Grade: 7.3

It’s alright.

11 February 09
Cheese: Terre Grise, Fromagerie des Neiges
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 2.40€/50g
Grade: 7.8

Subtle, yet a good milky taste. Quite firm yet not flaky. Has a solid body with resistant touch.

11 February 09
Cheese: Roquefort
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 4.50€/200g
Grade: 8.9

Delicious slice of pungent heaven.

11 February 09
Salame: Chorizo, Belle France
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 3.50€/350g pc.
Grade: 6.7

Lil España spice for ya.

15 February 09
Cheese: Morbier Lait Cru, A.O.C., Fromagerie des Neiges
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 3.70€/380g pc.
Grade: 7.1

Firm, milky cheese with a buttermilk twinge mixed with a line of mold that runs through the middle. That funky bacteria taste is the most apparent, but it’s not like it makes you want to vomit. More of just an “Oh, cool. This thing has a line of fungus through it.” If it didn’t, it’d be a pretty bland cheese.

15 February 09
Cheese: Sainte Maure de Touraine, au Lait Cru de Chevre
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 3.50€/200g
Grade: 7.4

Moldy ass, coral-looking log of smoke-black chevre. To any intelligent fellow, they’d probably stay away from this – it looks like whatever begins to grow on the top of 2-week expired yoghurt. However, once chewed the friable, yielding texture of normal chevre re-appears to be combined with the skunky, pungent outer rind. Tastes of straw since a piece is put through the center, obviously for flavor enhancement. An intriguing fellow.

7 March 09
Cheese: Fromage; “Dark, small, light brown, dusted, ridges”
Location: Fromagerie, Marché, Avenue du President Wilson, Samedi; Paris, FR
Price: 2€/60g pc.
Grade: 7.7

Smells very spicy and woody with sharp cinnmon, paprika and black pepper. Dry, dusted feel on tongue, yet punchy, tangy spice cuts through afterwards with a sharp twang and pinch-like prickle. Chalky texture with a medium-hard touch. Enjoyable but man does it have a kick. Light caramel color on outside ring which turns into a bone-yellow center. Consistency of a parmigiano-reggiano; similar grain.

7 March 09
Cheese: Brie
Location: Fromagerie Lecluyse, Marché, Avenue du President Wilson, Samedi; Paris, FR
Price: 4.50€/250g
Grade: 7.8

Grass and hay immediately, minor nuttiness afterwards. Very, very soft and gloppy. Eggy at times but not without its slighty browned butter taste. Very nice and quite authentic.

7 March 09
Cheese: Fromage de Langre; Champagne par Schertenleib, Saulxures, 50% de maitere grasse
Location: Fromagerie, Marché, Avenue du President Wilson, Samedi; Paris, FR
Price: 3.50€/180g
Grade: 8.0

Immediate creamy satisfaction, with cheddar-like rind (white-mild). Smooth body with mozzarella-like qualities. Buttery, yet with a slight flake to the texture. Quite the semi-soft rind with hints of butter and overall cheddar-y taste.

7 March 09
Cheese: Fromage de Pays; Pommes de terre
Location: Fromagerie Maugendre, Marché, Avenue du President Wilson, Samedi; Paris, FR
Price: 4.50€/200g
Grade: 7.6

Hardened dough-like texture with very earthy, potato-y feel and a rough, porous rind to it. Soft-crunchiness to the rind that adds an interesting dirt-truffle dustiness mash. Texture is a bit more milder near the center, where it gains a subdued flavor of added milkiness and dry, airy – almost champagne tasting smack. Peculiar and enjoyable, yet almost like eating a medium-hard cheese that has been smoked by cigarettes and light hickory.

7 March 09
Salame: Porc des Noisettes Saucisson
Location: Boucherie, Marché, Avenue du President Wilson, Samedi; Paris, FR
Price: 2.50€/250g
Grade: 7.8

Light smoked/cured smell, definite hazelnut taste comes through due to whole nuts within. Nothing too harsh in terms of taste; very crude and coarsely prepared. Can taste the air of the room it was dried in, definitely. A bit musty, dusty and with a touch of straw. Has a much more fresh-pork taste in comparison to other salumi I’ve had before. But at times it’s almost too subtle to be thoroughly enjoyed – as if it were a modest sausage in no desire to win over the company.

7 March 09
Salame: Porc des Pimente Saucisson
Location: Boucherie, Marché, Avenue du President Wilson, Samedi; Paris, FR
Price: 2.50€/250g
Grade: 7.7

Dusted in pepper and parika, the guy was bound to be a little spicy. Has a strawy rind that takes a little chewing to get to the meat. But inside, the 40% fat, 60% meat is seasoned with the right amount of black pepper, white pepper and spice. Like tasting a bite of España, sort of. Chiles come through as well a garlic; it’s sort of like a Szechuan sauce that’s been solidifed into a meat. Meat is a bit firmer than the other, with a husky bite and stalk-like chew. Good stuff though.

Rotary Coterie

APP.
Model U.N.: A.K.A. Class
Chile, Germany, New Hampshire, Sweden, Florida, Texas, Cambodia, Espana, Brasil, France, Venezuela, Kenya, Zimbabwe, Tanzania, Nigeria, U.K., Hungary, India, Egypt, Algeria, etc.

Urban Legend:
A Haircut Can Be Found In Paris, Sub-15€

Who Needs Sun When It Can Rain In Paris For Weeks:
An Analysis and Experimentation of Weather Forecasts v. Humans

Movies/Architecture/Shopping/Soldes Galore/Argent Epuisée

Library Hours Come and Then They Go, Quickly

MAIN.
It was bit nippy outside with the cliché overcast skies, dreary clouds and glum little raindrops prickling my jacket. I still couldn’t translate the temperature from Celsius so I dressed the same everyday. A uniform, if you will: Shoes, pants, shirt, sweater or cardigan, scarf, jacket, glasses or sunglasses. I had it down to a set regimen – rather militant you could say.

The walks across the Seine were enlivening some days and mundane on others. I’d count the days in my head: Lundi, Tuesday, Mercredi, Thursday, Vendredi, Samedi, Dimanche. Along the streets, I’d read off the addresses: Onze, douze, treize, fourteen, quinze, seize, dix-sept, dix-huit, dix-neuf, vingt. Twenty-one, vingt-deux, vingt-trois… I stopped around thirty. Trente? I felt like I was pronouncing my friend’s name incorrectly.

Cafés were abundant, as were the patisseries - but the prices were the ones that got to you. Every éclair, tarte aux cerises and pain aux raisin made me want to dip into my coin pocket and throw a few on to the counter. But then I’d remember there was cheap wine to be bought – and the beer, oh the beer. Those little shit-sized bottles that made you wanting more. I had downed three and it felt as through I had consumed a Capri Sun and a half. So much for my alcoholic American appetite.

When lunch came around sandwiches were all I could afford. Some days it would be au poulet, whereas other days I’d have them with oeufs or au rôti bœuf. I once ordered aux crudités thinking it was something totally different. I never ordered aux crudités again.

I came to the realization that bottled water with gas differs in no way from one another. I tried pitting Badoit against San Pellegrino and the only thing I noticed is that the latter had a bit more of that enjoyable fizz to it. Then I got bored one day and compared bottled Perrier to canned. I decided I liked bottled more than canned, just because. I never did try to discern the difference between glass and plastic bottles. I’m sure there’s some scientific explanation to the minimally different tastes.

What always amazed me was that even with all the cheese, pastries, baguettes and wine – the French always kept an ideal shape. I accepted that I was not the first to question this conundrum, but it puzzled me nonetheless. I figured that with all the walking, constant talking and lack of fast-food joints maybe that was it. But they still have McDo. And Quick. Same concept, supposedly better food, but still shitty. I couldn’t pull myself to try it. At least not in a sober state.

The drinking came in its usual fashion. Pound one down in the late morning, have a couple at lunch, maybe some more in the afternoon and swig a bottle of wine or a trinity of beers at night. All of these seemed like the usual signs of a budding alcoholic but I just told myself it was a sign that I was enjoying life. Maybe I wanted to experience le joie d’vivre. That was it. Drinking copious amounts of alcohol equated to living life. Superb.

One thing that always bugged me was that the staircase leading up to my apartment from the Seine had a mismanaged amount of steps. It went 25, strata, 25, strata, 24. What kind of engineer forgets the last step? Or maybe I was under the influence when I was counting. I should’ve gone back to count them but I wanted to hear what I wanted to hear. Plus there was a distracting mattress at the bottom of my stairs with lots of muddy footprints on top. Maybe that was the last step. Or the first? Fucking kids.

In between eating and drinking, since I had so much time to spare, there were lessons to be visited and intelligent people to be heard. From Haussman, Napoleon III and Manet to the Sumerians, Minoans, Old, Middle and New Kingdoms and then up to caliph al-Walid I and his knife and gourd mosaics – I kept myself relatively busy. One day we covered stone-carved chains. The other was about color intensities, tones, hues, shades, chiaroscuro and more. But all I could think about was Churrasco’s and their delectable fried plantains. Oh how I could’ve killed for an achiote rubbed filet of beef. But she had taught at Princeton and in Senegal - so I suppose she knew her stuff. At least it seeemed so. Oh? I guess it’s time for another beer.

I told myself moderation was the key to life. If only I hadn’t lost it after burning a hole in my pocket. Luckily the new jacket fit well.

BIER.
26 Jan 09
Beer: Super Bock, Portugal
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 16é, Paris, FR
Price: 4,50€/6pk.
Grade: 5.1

Session-smession, meh.

27 Jan 09
Beer: Carlsberg
Location: AMEX, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 4€/12 oz. bottle
Grade: 4.8

Danish shit.

28 Jan 09
Beer: Kanterbräu de Maitre Kanter
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 16é, Paris, FR
Price: 3,39€/10pk. 25cl
Grade: 3.0

Horrible.

31 Jan 09
Beer: Pelforth Brune
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 16é, Paris, FR
Price: 2,20€
Grade: 3.9

Bleh. Another failed French beer – this time in the form of a dark beer. After drinking copious amount of Kronenbourg (sadly what is available everywhere), this doesn’t rectify the poor opinion I have of le bier français. The taste is similar to a sweet corn, covered in a light syrup and mixed with Coca-Cola. Skunky, skunky smell and taste that is borderline sewage water consistency. Slimes down your tongue and then down your throat. It lacks any compelling bitterness, carbonation or worthwhile flavors. Instead you get a flat beer with a boring body (sludged medium-light) and weak notes of rotten cherries.

VIN.
19 Jan 09
Wine: Les Alyscamps, Vin de Pays du Gard, Rouge
Location: Rue de l’Universite Bodega, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 1,80€/750mL
Grade: 4.0

Cheap ass red with a cheap ass taste. However, better than Franzia and Carlo Rossi – any day.

19 Jan 09
Wine: Belle France Cibon Sélection, Sauvignon Blanc, Vin de Pays d’Oc, 2007
Location: Rue de l’Universite Bodega, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 3,60€/750mL
Grade: 4.2

Like white grape juicy juice yet with alcohol. Pretty disappointing but that’s what you get when buying a cheap white.

24 Jan 09
Wine: Vin d’Alsace A.O.C., Riesling, M. Kieffer, 2007
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 16é, Paris, FR
Price: 5€/750mL
Grade: 6.0

Light but still with body, sweet little white grapes, lush floral notes and touches of very light honey. Low acidity with a crisp palette and subtle effervescence. As usual, would be great with seafood, lighter cheeses and possibly chicken with a cream or white sauce. Has the ability to cut through some sauces, but not a wine that is meant to combat or contrast with heavy dishes. A nice complement to sautéed or grilled dishes, not so much fried, baked or breaded. There are also bits of citrus that come through, more of lemon or grapefruit rind than orange or lime. A nice wine, but a bit boring at times. Shallow and a bit unimaginative. Then again, it was only 5 euro.

31 Jan 09
Wine: Bordeaux, La Vielle Eglise, Cave du Marmandais, Terroir d’Aquitaine, 2006, 12.5% ABV
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 16é, Paris, FR
Price: 4€/750mL
Grade: 3.2

Ball-sack red wine vinegar. Blergh.

FROMAGE ET SALAME.
28 Jan 09
Cheese: Brie L’Coulombiere, 21% M.G.,
Location: Fromagerie Maugendre, Marché, Avenue du President Wilson – Mercredi, Paris, FR
Price: 4,75€/250g
Grade: 8.0

Damn. Tastes of grass, dried hay and a real “barn-like” milk. One of the most authentic tasting cheeses I’ve had in awhile. Melt-in-your-mouth consistency with all the right touches along the way. Soft – almost too soft - at first, yet after a sampling of the soft rind it is sublime. Could have a little bit more finesse though. While thoroughly enjoyable, the overall taste isn’t necessarily anything out of this world or way out of left field. Just another “buttery brie” couisin that is quite splendid, but not supreme.

28 Jan 09
Salame: Cochonou, Savoir-Faire Authenticité, Le Classique
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 3,75€/275g
Grade: 7.5

Nice, but a little unctuous and fatty. Could use a more genuine “meaty” or pork taste to it. I imagine the sausage maker was thinking to himself, “Hey, maybe if I put in 60% pork products and 40% pork fat, people will eat it.” Well, they still do. It just makes us feel a little more guilty by doing so.

31 January 09
Salame: Délice de St Agaûne, Bordeau Chesnel
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 5,10€/200g
Grade: 7.2

Less pork taste and more of a white wine and dry taste. Minimal spice, but enough to keep it interesting. Due to less fat content, there surely is a cleaner feel to it, but in no way does that detract from the overall experience.

31 January 09
Cheese: Brillat-Savarin, Moulé à la louche, 40% M.G., Fromagerie Delin, Bourgogne
Location: Les Chevres de Saint Vrain – Herbager Fromager, Marché, Avenue du President Wilson – Mercredi, Paris, FR
Price: 4,25€/200g
Grade: 7.4

A light and white spreadable cheese that tastes strikingly similar to a normal chévre (goat’s cheese) even though it's made from cow's milk. Falls in the same family of cheese like mascarpone or even fromage frais with quite the “yoghurt-y” taste to it (triple-créme). Like a well-cultured sweet cream that would go great with salmon. A.k.a. bomb-ass lox.

31 January 09
Cheese: Tomme d’Auverge, 45% M.G., Fromagerie des Neiges
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 11,90€/kg
Grade: 7.6

Waxy, chewy and tastes of that real cave-ripened taste. Very earthy and a bit chalky. You can taste the stale bacteria working in from the washed rind and the pungent yet not mildly pungent spice within. Throws in that bark-like roughness with truffle and mushroom flavors. Quite pleasant.

31 January 09
Cheese: Bleu d’Auverge A.O.C., Fromagerie des Neiges
Location: G20, Rue de Chaillot, 7é, Paris, FR
Price: 8,95€/kg
Grade: 7.7

Lovely. Tangy and funky yet not out of control. A well balanced bleu with a firm body and slight mineral crunch to it. Yeasty taste too, like the base of a powdered milk of the sorts.

31 January 09
Cheese: St. Marcellin, 50% M.G., Dauphiné
Location: Ramponneau Fromagerie, Marché, Avenue du President Wilson – Mercredi, Paris, FR
Price: 1€/5cm round, 80g
Grade: 7.8

Soft dusted surface with an even more angelic consistency to it. Reminds me of those gentle tasting bean cakes or sticky rice balls in oriental cultures. Extremely smooth consistency that basically melts into the room temperature plate. Fruity, with touches of peach and lemon in it also. I could definitely get used to this one.