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.)

Bargain Bites with a Side of Anarchy

V is for Vegan!

It's pretty shameful; East Side Burgers has been open since September and only today, the first of May, did I actually pop in for a taste of Paris' best "New York Style" fast food. Not for lack of  desire, though; each previous attempt was thwarted by the ridiculously long line out the door. Today was no different; burger-hungry hipsters spilled out onto the sidewalk, but, thankfully, the line didn't enter deal-breaking territory.

After maybe 5 or 10 minutes' wait, we were standing at the register placing our orders. Two mushroom- burger specials: One vegan, one standard-issue. Frites--not the optional coleslaw (who chooses coleslaw over fries?!)--and a couple of cans of Oasis. That'll be 18 euro, s'il vous plait. What?! Cheaper even than our beloved Chettinadu? Woot! J'adore this place already.

Vegan quiche and non-vegan cheesecake consumed most of the space in the deli case.

I totally forgot to get one of those almond cookies. Damn!

Seating is extremely limited at East Side Burgers; there's a tiny subterranean dining room with roughly 5 tables, and two little two-seater set-ups out front. "You're in luck--someone's leaving downstairs," said the nice guy behind the counter. Turns out there's a little video camera in the dining room that beams images back up to kitchen staff. Good to know!

I liked the old-school wrapping. More so, the contents! 

I was surprised to see cheese on my vegan burger. M'expliquez, SVP. 

Down the spiral staircase we went, settling into our seats and waiting, eagerly, for our names to be called. When the blessed moment arrived, I sprinted upstairs and was met halfway by the guy from behind the counter, who handed me a faux-wood tray with our goodies nestled on top.

There were two distinct sizes of burgers: big and bigger. Opening them up, they both appeared to have cheese, so back upstairs I went to inquire whether the vegan burger was meant to have cheese. Mr. Cheerful assured me that it was indeed dairy-free fromage, and that my wrapper should have "VG" on it to indicate its veganness. Back down again I went, then the two of us spent the next 30 seconds mauling each burger to find the telltale scribble. Turns out mine was the bigger one. My bun was sort of whole-wheaty, while Jeff's was more traditional looking, with sesame seeds on top, even.

The burger was delish. I mean, really, really tasty, thanks in part to the caramelized onions and healthy squeeze of French's mustard, about which there is nothing remotely "French." I don't think they even sell yellow mustard anywhere in this country! I can't remember if the mushrooms were inside the burger or on top, but however they were integrated, they were integrated well.

Heading over by bike toward Stalingrad for a coffee date with Paris Paul, we got caught up in a May Day manifestation; International Workers Day is a traditional day of protest in France, and as the procession began, a well-mannered group of anarchists were among the first to march by.

Kill capitalism? OK. I'm pretty partial to Socialist values anyway, but can we please keep East Side Burgers?

Gray Day Greens Fix

The cafe's owner said he's trying to stay under the radar (and out of the blogshophere) so his cafe won't be overrun with backpackers!

Ever since I discovered that Kristen's Kale Salad was available at this newly opened cafe in the Marais, I've been wanting to go and get my greens on. I finally made it down yesterday and was so excited to see the gorgeous Emily from Paris Paysanne and Kristen herself sitting front and center right when I walked in.

"Quelle Surprise!"

After exchanging bisous, Kristen rustled up some salad, made specially vegan for me, and I sat down to join them for some conversation and healthy dose of laughter.

Kristen: pretty (and) smart!

Kristen has become a celebrity in the cutting-edge culinary scene here in Paris; besides making the pages if Elle and Glamour, and putting in an appearance on the Huffington Post, just yesterday she appeared in 20 Minutes, a French newspaper targeting the Metro-commuter set.  So exciting!

Emily's star is ascending, too. She's shopping around a book which will focus on her passions: Parisian markets and fresh, organic food. She's the Parisian authority on where to eat and drink locally-produced food and wine, and I always learn something new whenever I visit her smart, informative blog.

Dressed simply with olive oil and lemon juice, the salad was a delicious, pared-down melange of carrot, kale, and super-fresh raw almonds.

The kale salad was divine. Simple but flavorful and satisfying. This particular kale came from a small farm in Normandie. Kristen picked the stuff herself on a recent visit out west. Lucky girl!

A photo of one of Kristen's many success stories--a kale farm in Normandie that supplies the goods for the salads--sits on the counter at the cafe.

Before I left, I spoke with the cafe's owner, who, without knowing I might be a blogger, lamented the unwanted attention erupting out of the blogosphere. "I'm not like the other cafe owners who want to attract the masses," he said. "I want to keep the clientele local. I don't want it to be come overrun with backpackers."

Eeks!

Well, then. I won't say the name of this cafe, but if you really want some of Kristen's killer kale salad, you can message me privately and I'll give you the scoop. Or we can all wait for Kristen to expand her salad-and-chips enterprise to more cafes and stores across Paris. One can hope!

Blurry kale chips, anyone?

Vegan alla Italiana

I met up with Paul at Ten Belles yesterday--easily the sunniest, warmest day so far this year--to talk creative projects over a good cup of caffeine-saturated drip coffee. It was my first time at this hipster cafe, where everyone, including the studly Australian barrista, looked like they sauntered off the pages of Paris Hipster magazine. (Has anyone started that yet? I think it would sell.)

The meetup was productive and the coffee was tasty. I didn't expect them to have any vegan options on the carte, but I went ahead and asked Studly Australian Dude (SAD) anyway, and he just cocked his head to the side and repeated "vegan?" back to me as if he'd never heard the word before. OK. That's alright.

But while Paul and I said our goodbyes on the trottoir outside the cafe, the word "vegan" chalked onto a sign next door caught my eye. I resisted the urge to grab SAD by his arm and drag him over to his neighbor's sign. Instead, I window-licked for a minute (that's what the French call window-shopping), then popped into Carmen Ragosta for a good look.

Head downstairs to the artist's atelier .

It was love at first sight; cute dog? Oh, hell yes. Effervescent Neapolitan who speaks to me in hybrid English-French-Italian? Mmmhmmm. Fabulous clothes, too. And vegan shoes in candy colors. And yummy smells wafting out of the ... kitchen! This is where dreams magically erupt into delicious reality. I mean, is there anything more enticing than the thought of eating vegan tiramisu while shopping for one-of-a-kind dresses, capes, and jackets?

I stayed for a good half-hour, chatting with Carmen about her life and her art and ideas, and when I found out she was open on Sundays, I promised to return the following day to taste her home-made cuisine, sip a glass of Montepulciano, and fondle some more of those delectable Melissa shoes that call out from every corner.

I love those pink-and-red Melissa shoes.

An arty vibe permeates every inch of space at Carmen Ragosta.

A beautiful bloom decorates each table. 

We rolled up to Carmen Ragosta on a gray and nippy Sunday, slightly sleep deprived from the previous night's festivities but hungry and excited to branch out of our usual weekend habit and try something new. Carmen was surprised to see us, "I deedn't thinka you would-a come-a, because-a it's so, how do you say, not-a very nice outside."

We sat down, and didn't order, because you don't do that at Carmen Ragosta; you eat what Carmen cooks. If you're vegan, you get a lovely plate of food that might include risotto, seasonal vegetables, unusual salad combinations (yam and fennel? Interesting! And miamy.), savory croquettes, and bread. If you're vegetarian, you have the option of having cheese sprinkled over your meal, and, maybe an extra thing or two that has cheese inside, like eggplant Parmiagiana.

Pretty clothes representing the colors of late winter and early spring.

The plat du jour: Risotta with beans, a savory croquette, braised endive, poached pear, and different salads.

I loved my lunch, which (as is nearly always the case) I didn't think would be filling when the plate was first set before me. My favorite component was the braised endive with almonds and raisins, cooked in a balsamic reduction sauce. (I think.)

Pippo, the friendly, heat-loving dog-of-the-house

For dessert, we had espresso and tiramisu. I'm a total newbie on the tiramisu front, but I loved Carmen's version--a creamy, not-too-sweet melange that tasted of coffee, Speculoos, and vanilla.

This is what vegan tiramisu looks like.

The vivacious, friendly, and talented Carmen, on her way to her magic kitchen.

Do you remember these bags from high school?

I have to thank Alcyone Wemaere, the author of Paris Vegetarien, for turning me onto this special place. And I have to apologize to all my girlfriends who didn't get to do vegan Italian when visiting me in Paris. When you come back for another visit, I'll take you here!