Cafe Pinson 2 Takes Flight

Press night at Cafe Pinson 2, from the outside looking in

Pinson means "finch" en francais, so when I say another organic, plant-based restaurant has gotten its wings, I almost mean it literally. Cafe Pinson 1 opened just about a year ago in the Northern Marais and was successful enough that the team behind the 99-percent vegan cafe invested in a second location.

The ardoise

The new spot--which oozes a more rustic and homey vibe that its predecessor--sits on rue du Faubourg Poissoniere in an area fast becoming a vegan vortex; within a five-block radius, there are roughly six veg(etari)an dining spots to choose from, offering everything from meatless burgers to organic raw food. 

On a dark and damp Wednesday night, I set out to meet up with good friend Terresa from La Cucina di Terresa for the cafe's inaugural press event. Terresa was already engaged in friendly banter with co-owner Damian when I arrived, but soon we were ensconsed on a comfy settee where we sipped, nibbled, and schmoozed our way to a better understanding of the Cafe Pinson experience.

The best chef in Paris, Terresa Murphy, lifts un verre of bio bubbly

The crudite tray, wtih curried dipping sauce

More crudite. When are those sweet potato dumplings coming around?!

Little verrines of creamy vegetable soup were also passed round.

I spotted--and resisted temptation to dig into--a jar of pickled asparagus on a shelf.

Natural wines are an exciting addition to the menu, which also includes such tempting delicacies as beet and parsnip veloute; potato and spinach cakes with kale pesto; pumpkin-mushroom risotto; and lemon tiramisu. Detox juices and retox swills (hello, coffee!) are also on tap.

Cafe Pinson co-founder Agathe giving Parisian "smile."

The DJ was almost upstaged by the vegetable platter.

In Love with the Loire

The wonderful, amazing, lovely Terresa.

Still life with mirabelle.

I can't sing my friend Terresa's praises loudly enough. She's really a remarkable woman: Kind, funny, full of life, honest, and a wonderful teacher and chef. Ever since we met two years ago, I've learned so much from her, both life lessons, and kitchen lessons. Because of her, I've expanded my culinary repertoire to include all kinds of things I once knew absolutely nothing about, including chick-pea flour cakes, olive oil pie crusts, and natural wines.

Whenever I write about vegetarianism as it relates to Paris, I have to write about Terresa. Her artisan cooking school, La Cucina di Terresa, is an undiscovered (relatively) gem that I wish more people knew about. She teaches small classes in her home to students from around the world, plus, she caters special events, does table d'hote dinners, and even hosts natural wine tours in the Loire Valley.

Those are the actual house keys to the old abode we stayed in.

The sweet little garden.

Terresa knows I'm writing this Vegetarian Paris guidebook for UK publishers Vegetarian Guides, and because she's a kind and generous person, she invited me to join her for a weekend in the beautiful Loire Valley, to see what her tours are about and therefore be able to write about them with some authority.

My train left Gare Austerlitz at 7:30 am and arrived in the little village of Onzain, near Blois, just after 9 am. Terresa had already done the day's shopping, so instead of heading to the market, we fortified ourselves on coffee, took a walk to the local boulangerie, then climbed in her little car and drove the 10 or so kilometers over windy, narrow back roads to her winemaker friend Christophe's home. Together, we would prepare lunch, drink wine, and enjoy the fruits of our labors.

So simple, yet so delicious: Terresa's eggplant tarte before entering the oven.

The vigneron had a rough year last year; a mildew killed nearly all his grapes. This year is looking much better.

These chickens, according to Christophe, get to live out their natural lives and are never, never turned into soup or something equally atrocious.

Christophe's daughter and I share the same birthday--and a fondness for food preparation.

Wandering the vineyard builds an appetite quite unlike anything else. 

The gorgeous, sweet little plums that would later become a sticky, scrumptious tarte.

Christophe's vines stretch on for about seven acres.

The day was splendid, in spite of spitting rain that kept us indoors most of the day. We prepared a wonderful meal of sweet and savory tarts and salads, and relished every bite with sips of Christophe's truly dazzling liquid elixirs. You haven't really tasted wine until you've tried natural wines; the vignerons allow their grapes to "express their individuality" and what you get is something almost magically delicious and not at all like the stuff you buy at supermarkets or even mainstream French caviste's. The wines are rustic and earthy and tingly and tasty, and they work particularly well with plant-based foods.

Our day ended at about 9pm, and the number of empty bottles we left behind was rather startling (though they weren't all full to begin with). The next day, however, I felt great and ready to head off on our next natural wine excursion.

I loved the beamed ceilings in Terresa's Loire Valley abode.

Terresa prepared a beautiful meal and whipped up a roaring fire to warm us from the outside in while the meal warmed us from the inside out. 

A late-night supper of butternut-and-homemade-almond-milk soup after a long day of wine tasting.

For my second and final day in the Loire, Terresa would take me to meet her dear friend Joel, whose winery sits on a verdant plot of rolling terrain ripe with walnut, peach, and plum trees. Terresa credits Joel--who has been tending vines here longer than most--with turning her on to natural wines, so it was with a bit of reverence that I exchanged bises with this maestro and sat down to the important task of tasting his wares.

Joel's wines have a much different flavor than his wine-making comrade Christophe's; Joel's are more fruity, intentionally more oxidized, and utterly more-ish in their own wonderful way. We tasted a white, rose, then a red--which I fell in love with and bought a bottle of on the spot. (I'd have purchased a case, but didn't want to lug the treasures home.)

Coffee time!

We shelled these beans and turned them into a delectable tomoto-bean-herb salad.

Hamming it up in the town of Pontlevoy.

A simple, wholesome and delicious lunch.

We thought we'd wandered into a park, and so began collecting and eating our "found" apples. Then we realized we were actually standing in someone's front yard. Oopla!

Terresa snapping photos of the local abbey.

After our tasting, we set off to visit the vines, stomping our feet as we marched through the tall grass to scare off any vipers that might be slithering about. We reached the vines, oohed and ahhed over their preciousness (and the fact that they were doing well, as opposed to last year, when grapes throughout the region were affected by a mildewy blight). The harvest would be later than usual this year, but at least there would be a harvest.

We passed a neighbor along the way who told us to look out for vipers. Not the thing a sandle-sporting city girl wants to hear on a day traipsing through the countryside!

Joel measures the alcohol content of one of his sparkling wines. Afterward, we drank the test material. Miam!!

The day at Joel's ended as it began at Terresa's: With liquid good cheer--only this time, it was sparkling wine instead of coffee. The fizzy, apricot-colored wine tasted of jasmine and minerals and luscious sunshine, and reignited that old Green Acres fantasy that's always there, just beneath the thin layer of common sense in my mind. "Ooh! What if I moved to the Loire, bought a little plot of land, and started growing grapes and plums and peaches?" I thought to myself. And then the thought was gone again, and we were off.

I Should Have Seen This Coming

I've made a big decision: I'm leaving France!

BUT. Of course, France is really doing her best, now that my mind is made up, to woo me back. She's rolling out the right weather (my ideal, in fact: Hot, humid, and sunny), for starters, which encourages everyone to put on their fun hats again and start making merry. 'Tis, at long, long last, the season of open-window dinner parties, cool drinks at terrace cafes, and festive picnics with food, drink, and good company aplenty.

A lotus-and-guppy garden.

Today, the gorgeous Emily of Paris Paysanne hosted an afternoon picnic at her community garden, which happens to be the coolest thing going in all of northwest Paris. The jardin started more than a decade ago with one "squatter"--a renegade green thumb who saw a fine patch of unused city property beside some abandoned railway tracks and decided to grow stuff on it. Today, it's a legit operation funded by the City of Paris and run by an association called Les Amis des Jardins du Ruisseau.

Ten points if you can spot the kale in this photo.

For the price of a decent bottle of wine, you can become a member of the garden community and make use of this pleasant urban green space. Tables, chairs, chickens, and bees are among the many things you'll find here. You'll also see some colorful shared-garden plots (each is the "property" of six gardeners) brimming with edible and ornamental goodies. I'm going to join, even if I won't be here long enough to enjoy it year-round.

Today's gathering included a few bloggers like Emma from Burnt Cream, Kristen from The Kale Project, and my wonderful friend Terresa from La Cucina di Terresa. I'm going to miss these gatherings of smart, interesting, accomplished women (and men) when I'm gone. I think today's lesson, if there was one, is not to pine for losses yet to come, but to really make the most of all this city has to offer while I'm still here. I'm doing that, beginning today!

Emily''s an up-and-coming author who's specialty is Paris markets and organic cooking. I can't wait for her first book!

No one fully understood what the chicken story was, but I can tell you they are extremely cute and woolly, and really into personal hygiene.

One of my favorite Parisians, the lovely and talented Terresa of La Cucina di Terresa.

Shady tables, murals, greenery, and nice people=best community garden EVER.

The People You Meet

Terresa is a fan of natural wines, and thanks to her, I am, too!

A few months ago, I received a surprise email from Terresa Murphy, who runs La Cucina di Terresa, a vegetarian cooking school and catering company she operates from her impossibly adorable and compact apartment in the onzieme. How would I like to come over and have a chat? I'd never actually met Terresa, but had interviewed her for a couple of different food-oriented stories I'd written since moving to Paris. Intrigued, and always keen to meet new and interesting people, I wasted no time responding with an enthusiastic "oui."

Terresa whipping up polenta in her perfectly adorable kitchen

I arrived soaking wet and likely looking a bit disheveled, having crossed the city by bike and riding straight into an unexpected rainstorm. (It was just cloudy when I set off.) Yet Terresa welcomed me like an old friend, making me feel right at home with both her warm and engaging personality, and her incredible food. While we sat talking and getting to know each other, she would occasionally disappear into her kitchen and return with a plate of Italian-themed goodies like savory bruschetta or the mysterious and delicious castanaccio (chestnut-flour cake). Besides a mutual love of plant-based cuisine, we discovered we shared some other similarities,including having lived in San Francisco for large chunks of our lives, and having family who live in Grass Valley.

Not-so-stealthy (and not so good) photo of the Japanese designer's duds (and a runway model in the background)

Terresa at work, slicing her fresh chard pasta (yes, chard!) into perfect diamond shapes

Since that initial tete-a-tete, Terresa has welcomed me back into her home for a festive dinner party where four of us American girls ate like Italian principessas and sipped an array of tasty natural wines. A few weeks ago, Terresa even offered me a two-day gig helping her prepare lunch and dinner for a Japanese design house during fashion week. (The designer and his team were too busy casting models for the runway show to make time for food prep.) Last week, Terresa celebrated a milestone birthday and planned to have her potluck fete in a public garden near her home, but the damn weather got in the way again, forcing the event indoors.

We arrived at her apartment late (a flat tire impeded an on-time arrival) and wet (another unexpected rain storm), and were greeted by a small group of revelers, including culinary superstar David Lebovitz (so nice, so NOT a diva!), his partner Romain (who I refer to as the French Dan Piraro, since they share a certain physical je-ne-sais-quoi) and the charming, gorgeous Kiwi singer/songwriter/veg cookbook author Flip Grater. It was an honor to toast my new friend on her birthday with this charming group of creative, interesting, and welcoming people.

David and Flip: not a comedy act, but a talented pair of expat Parisians

Joyeux Anniversaire, chere Terresa!

Terrea's birthday pasta, brimming with veggies, nuts, and superb olive oil

"The French Dan Piraro" and Co.

Today is Bastille Day (aka La Fete Nationale). And while national pride isn't really mon truc, I'm headed off to the Champ de Mars to join Jeff and the Fat Tire crew for a bit socializing beneath a blanket of suspiciously moist-looking clouds, knowing full well I'm likely to get rained on as I have every other excursion this week. Why bother? Because each outing--whatever the weather--is an opportunity to meet another fascinating person, to delve into each other's histories over a plate of delicious food, and to reinvigorate my love for this beautiful and inspiring city I call home.