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.

KALE, yes!

(You have to say it with a southern accent.)

There isn't much I miss about life in the United States, but kale is definitely one of them. Anyone within shouting distance has heard me lamenting the dearth of this beloved cruciferous green here in l'Hexagone. It's not like I haven't tried to source it, either. I've been to scads of markets and talked to oodles of vendors, half of whom had no idea what the hell I was talking about. "Kale? C'est quoi, ca?" or "Bah, non" were the consistent replies to my sad-eyed queries.

More than a year ago, my friend Nathalie suggested we go to an AMAP (Associations pour le Maintien d'une Agriculture Paysanne) event on Canal de l'Ourcq and talk to actual farmers to see if they'd be willing to consider growing it. One fellow expressed an interest, but only if we had enough people to make it worth his while. He needed a commitment of 30 people, which was about triple the number of people I actually new in the city. I gave up. I figured I could eat collard greens and gai lan--also known as Chinese kale--until I was back in the land of the red, white, and greens.

Back in June, on a trip to London, I picked up two bunches of kale (all I had room for) at a Whole Foods market and ferried them back home on the Eurostar. Reacquainting myself with this this old edible friend only amplified the longing for it; would it be reasonable to consider quitting France simply to gain better access to my beloved vegetable? The kale-obsessed quadrant of my brain said "oui."

Then, nearly without warning, un petit miracle: My friend and fellow expat Karin introduced me to Kristen, another kale-loving American. The difference between my love of kale and Kristen's is that this girl didn't just whinge about the no-kale situation; she actually embarked on a no-stopping-until-success mission she dubbed The Kale Project to bring the damn stuff to France. In September, her efforts made so many wishful thinkers' dreams come true: She got the farmers to grow it, and now it's being sold at a few outdoor markets in gay, gay Paree. Hallelujah! Praise Kristen!

Kale had its coming-out party at Verjus, a lovely little restaurant owned by a pair of (yep, you guessed it) expat Americans. The restaurant is the current darling of the Parisian "modern French" dining scene, and I'd wanted to check it out ever since discovering they'll do a vegan menu with a bit of advance warning. I gave absolutely no advance warning when I showed up asking for something kale-ish and vegan. (If you assumed, wrongly, as I did, that a kale menu implied there would already be something vegan, you would have been, as I was, saddened to discover otherwise.) The good news was that the wonderful chef busted out an impromptu kale gaspacho that totally exceeded my taste-bud's expectations. You really can't go wrong when you mix kale with heirloom tomatoes, smoked almonds, fennel, and onions.

A freelance reporter for the New York Times turned up for the event, as did a lot of pretty, blonde young things who look like they'd gone a long time without eating kale--or any other kind of food. But the star of the show was definitely Kristen, the kale messiah of the vegetable-loving Parisian masses. Where will I be this Sunday? At "church," otherwise known as the outdoor market, giving thanks for kale.