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.

Pie Love You

Three of my favorite things: Bread, fresh produce, and vegan cookbooks!

I first met Dynise Balcavage (aka The Urban Vegan) years ago--maybe 2006?--when I worked at VegNews and she pitched an article on Buenos Aires. I accepted her proposal straight away. Why? Because it was everything an editor wants: An enticing snapshot of the article to come (Tango! Outdoor markets! Vintage hotels!) accompanied by great clips and a way-better-than-average cover letter.

Throughout that first collaborative experience, Dynise proved herself to be the consummate professional, not only submitting her story and gorgeous photos on time (a rarity--believe me!), but more importantly, delivering a quality story interwoven with interesting facts, fun anecdotes, and information that the reader could actually benefit from.

Perpetually pretty and loaded with talent, too!

In the years that followed, I interviewed Dynise for various stories I'd written for other publications, and called on her culinary expertise when the situation called for it. Two years ago, we finally met in the flesh at Paris Vegan Day, and I wasn't the least bit surprised to learn that Dynise is as delightful in person as she is with the written word. Her blog is something I always look forward to, and I've always loved the diversity of her recipes and the straightforward, relate-able tone that permeates everything she produces.

In a stroke of luck, I received a copy of Dynise's latest book, Pies and Tarts with Heart, and an invitation to join the Pies and Tarts with Heart blog tour. Hells yes! The only thing I like more than pies and tarts is slavering over delicious visual representations of them. This book is loaded with gorgeous photos taken by a photographer Dynise knows well: Her talented bf, Paul Runyon. Nice work, Paul! But it's the recipes that are the real stars of this book. Not only are they simple enough for baking amateurs like me, but they're creative, intriguing, and (yay!) vegan.

Urban (Parisian) Vegan

Seeing Dynise at this year's Paris Vegan Day gave me the opportunity to thank her in person for producing this I'm-about-to-lick-the-page tome, but also to catch up with her in a relaxed, non-professional way. Yesterday, over a leisurely lunch at Cafe Pinson, we yakked and yammered over colorful bowls of grilled vegetables and fluffy falafel cakes (I forgot to take a photo!), and discovered we had more than a few things in common, including a love of foods that marry salty and sweet.

"I'm freaking out over that recipe with peaches and sea-salt," I professed.

I would definitely win any pie-eating contest that required diving face-first into this salty-sweet masterpiece

"You mean the Peach Pie with Salted Agave Drizzle?" she asked.

"Yes--that one!," I said, swooning--and possibly drooling a little bit. "And the Chocolate Peanut-Butter Pie, AND the Chocolate-Bourbon Pecan Pie!"

The conversation quickly shifted to the salted-chocolate tartine spread her comrade-in-cuisine Fran Costigan made at PVD, then veered off into directions of love, fashion, health, hobbies, heartbreak, previous careers, and other juicy, real and relevant topics.

Dynise and her culinary comrade Fran prep for their presentation at PVD '13 

Like me, Dynise is at a crossroads, plotting her next act. Will she continue her reign as a revered blogger and cookbook goddess, or will she surprise us all by reinventing herself into something entirely new? I can't wait to find out. And in the meanwhile, I'll be baking pies.

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.

In Search of Sunshine in Sardinia

Where does a heat-deprived girl go for a spot of sunshine after a long, cold winter? You'd think an island in the middle of the Mediterranean would be a good bet. I'm here to tell you it ain't necessarily so. A week ago I hopped a plane hoping hard for a sun-soaked holiday punctuated by great food, better wine, and maybe, just maybe, a daily dip in the sea.

The real-life version of Sardinia in early May didn't match the image of sandy-beach perfection in my head, but I got over it pretty quickly. Reason #1: The people. These are some of the kindest folk I've ever met. Waitstaff, in particular, take the Miss/Mister Congeniality prizes; on different occasions, they left work to shuttle me to a nearby bank-o-mat; bought me glasses of wine for no apparent reason; and saw to it that I didn't go hungry, making me special off-the-menu vegan meals and apero snacks.

Via Roma, the main thoroughfare in downtown Cagliari.

The covered arcade on Via Roma. Burgerlandia?  I'll stick with Portlandia!

I wish someone hadn't torn this vegan poster. 

Sardinian wine is fabulous, and you always get a little snack to go with it. Here, focaccia bread--with cheese, sadly.

Looking down toward the port.

My B&B was fabulous; a bit out of the way, but worth the 20-minute bus ride--past salt marshes full of pink flamingos--into town. It was in a quiet residential neighborhood in a very small hamlet. I had my own suite, with double doors leading onto a sunny patio. The family dog was my constant companion, and I made friends with the indigenous fauna, too.

Breakfast was delivered to my room every morning.

My outdoor breakfast spot

Bok, my new buddy.

On my walk to the supermercado in the village.

More Sardinian countryside.

Yay! Vegan stuff at the neighborhood market.

I didn't try these vegan things, but I was tempted.

The fresh focaccia was also calling my name.

Most days I ate lunch at la Terra di Mezzo. The town's only remaining veg restaurant. (There was another, but it recently closed.) The lunch buffet was vegan, and molto bene. My favorite was the seitan with grilled artichokes. It was swimming in olive oil, which might have been one reason it tasted so good.

One half of the lunch buffet at Terra di Mezzo.

The brown bit is the seitan with artichokes. Need to learn how to make that.

Funky cigarette vending machine.

Local architecture.

Cagliari is full of graffiti; most of it pretty bad as far as I could tell.

I'd file this under "mediocre" graffiti. This artist made his/her mark all over town.

Got sucked into a store, then lost in the stripey vortex.

My kind of apero: Prosecco, olives, potato chips AND peanuts. 

On top of the hill  beside the archeology museum, looking south over the port.

This cat needed rescuing :0(

A century plant in bloom!

This vacation wasn't the sunniest, nor the warmest, but it was relaxing and interesting. The architecture, the sea breezes, the people, and the food and wine are all reasons I'd return. In mid-July. (Or August.)