Derring-Do

One of the best things about being vegan in Paris? Bo bun!

Those who know me well know that I am impulsive. I'm known to leap off metaphorical mountain tops without excessive rumination, and while the regrets have been few, there are a couple of things I'd have done differently if I were given the chance for a do-over.

Vegan cheesecake from Cafe Ginger.

Moving to France wasn't one of my typically impetuous maneuvers. I planned everything meticulously and thoughtfully, taking into consideration every facet of such a big geographical shift. One of the aspects that required the greatest investment of time and energy was figuring out how to work here legally; not many countries freely distribute working visas, unless the person asking is highly skilled/educated, and the need for his or her particular talents is high.

Buying in-season produce at the marche is one way vegans can fully experience  la vie francaise.

Thankfully, I was able to pull it off by submitting a proposal for a Carte Competences et Talents, a visa that allows artists to live in France to work on a project of their choosing for three years, and to get paid for it while they're here. (If they can find a way to earn money from their project, that is.)

Did somebody say "organic wine"?

Two weeks from today, I'll finally be able to tick off one of the goals I'd outlined in that initial proposal when I teach my very first class on the subject of vegetarian living in Paris. The class is offered through WICE, a non-profit cultural organization for Anglophones and others who want to learn new things, meet interesting people, and enjoy the process in a language they understand.

Like Nutella, only better, since it doesn't have milk in it!

I'm excited to meet my students and learn why they're interested in vegetarianism. My greatest hope for this experience is that I'll be able to impart some of the wisdom and experience I've collected over the years and offer it in a way that will support them on their path toward compassionate living. That will require gentleness, a non-judgmental attitude, and patience, which I intend to deliver in the spirit of fun and adventure.

Does anything lift your spirits more than a flower stall erupting with springtime blooms?

And food samples, of course. That's the surest way to win someone's heart, in my experience! If you have teaching tricks, words of wisdom, or any suggestions for successful information sharing, I totally welcome them! 

Culinary Confessions

I have a sad little confession to make. I miss San Francisco.

I don't miss the ubiquitous stark-raving lunatics, the beyond-scary bad drivers, or the hideously overpriced glasses of Bordeaux. And I certainly never, never pine for the fog-infused gales that somehow qualify as "summer breezes" in my old hometown. But when I crave comfort in an edible form, I miss San Francisco for the one thing it has over Paris: Mexican food.

A few years ago, there were only a couple of Mexican food places in Paris. Today there are a lot more. But are they any good? Not really. They're either too expensive, not veg-friendly enough, or so trendy that you have to wait an hour to share a cramped table with noisy American tourists. (Ugh!) And don't get me started on the Tex-Mex thing; whoever coined that culinary combination deserves a swift kick in the pantalones.

A few weeks ago I had some time to kill between rendezvous, and decided to stop for lunch at the original Tien Hiang, over in my old neighborhood in the 11e. When I got there, I received two shocks. First was the sign on the door announcing their imminent closure (at the end of March 2012). The second was the minimum amount you have to spend to charge a meal to your carte bleue. Since I was short on cash, I set off in search of a distributeur. What I found instead was La Taqueria.



The place is cozy--just a handful of tables, and decorated in a sort-of Mexican-ish way (there's a masked wrestler thing going on, design-wise)--with a distinct French vibe (chalk-board menu, extensive wine list). Besides the fact that it serves Mexican food, another thing that sets La Taqueria apart from other Paris eateries is its New World wine list. There are no French or European wines on the menu, but I discovered all kinds of Australian, American, and yes, even Mexican wines I never knew existed.

The nice young fellow who took my order was a little confused by my vegan-oriented questions ("Well, we can make you a fish taco ... Oh, you don't eat fish? How about a quesadilla?"), but after a gentle tutorial, we reached a mutual understanding. I'd start with a nopales tostada and a glass of white wine from Baja, Mexico. Both were scrumptious, though the nopales were slippery and difficult to navigate from my fork into my mouth. And they were tangy. By the time I finished with my entree, I felt I'd definitely consumed my lifetime share of pickled cactus. The massive chunk of aguacate sitting atop the pile of cool veggies helped temper the tang.

The main course was to be the ultimate comfort food: tacos. These were mixed-vegetable numbers, made with soft corn tortillas. Mushroom, potato, and bell peppers presided over the melange, and a modest garnish of tomatoes and cilantro completed the taco triptych. The first bite was tasty, and the second one was, too, but by the third taco, I was getting bored with the mushroom-potato-pepper story. I was grateful for the two small bowls of salsa--both spicy, but not too--that helped reanimate the flavor. Also making an appearance on the plate was a non-vegan creamy sauce that I didn't try, and which the server apologized for as he delivered the dish.

That dollop of guacamole should have been about 10 times bigger

When I asked if the tortillas were house-made, the server made a confession of his own: they were shipped in from Mexico.

"If you're interested in ordering some, we can arrange that," he said. Never have I been so excited about a mass-produced product shipped in from overseas.

For dessert? Well, there was no dessert, but that was OK. Getting to eat warm corn tortillas--and not the bland, white, preservative-filled kind you find at Carrefour--and spicy salsa without having to venture back to the New World was sweet enough for me.