The best pasta in Paris

Yes, their prices have gone up (like everyone else's), yes, the waiters are all unnervingly handsome, and yes, it's always (always) crowded- but with pasta cooked so perfectly and such an attractive clientele, who the hell cares?

Little Italy Caffé has been one of my favorite addresses in Paris for five years now, and I haven't had a bad dish, yet. In order for me to forgive the fact that they're selling a 4 euro bottle of Lambrusco for 22 euros, the food better be pretty damn good- and trust me, it is. Don't attempt to get in with more than four people and be prepared to wait in front of the bathroom- the only place in the rectangular-shaped restaurant where you won't be in the way. Order anything tomato based with speck in it- to die for. The tiramisu is delish as well. I've never ordered anything besides pasta, and none of my friends have, either. The pasta is hearty enough to be a main meal, and most of the dishes cost between 10 and 14 euros. Dress cute and come hungry. Ciao.

Basque in good food

You know that wondrous feeling when you try a new restaurant, and after a few well-proportioned plates go whizzing by on the upturned palms of a charming waitstaff, you know you're in for a treat? Well that happened for us today at La Cantine du Troquet. Affordable, intimate, and well worth the occasional wait- the exquisitely prepared dishes were a well-deserved vacation from the humdrum gray of Paris that sometimes translates into uninventive food. Reliable, comforting- but uninteresting nonetheless- such is the case at La Coupole, a former gastronomic institution that has been sitting on its laurels for over a decade serving food that tastes like it was purchased frozen from Picard.

Whoops- I digress. Let me tell you what I had. I started with a terrine of boudin with a delicate dollop of homemade pesto. Boudin is a blood sausage, and although a terrine of blood sausage might sound overwhelming, it was delicate and refined and served with massive chunks of fresh country bread. Cornichons and spicy green peppers were served a volonté, as was the soup- a scrumptious velouté of root vegetables served with chunks of chorizo. Next up, I had sardines a la plancha, accompanied with an unforgettable homemade ragout. This is a place that really knows how to use tomatoes- no watery wastes of well-intentioned sauces at La Cantine.

I went for lunch, and walked out delighted for less than 20 euros. Friends say it's packed from nine o'clock on, so I say have a big lunch, drink a lot of wine, and pretend that it's night. It's so gray here, you won't notice the difference.

The chef, by the way, is Christian Etchebest- and La Cantine is a more affordable offshoot of his restaurant Le Troquet- referred to by French foodies as a temple of "bistronomique" cooking.

Jardin du Palais Royal- MAISON FABRE

If you, like me, are tired of the endless array of shops selling mediocre tunics and faux-organic T-shirts for a good third of your salary, follow me, dear readers, to La Maison Fabre. I have fallen hard for this artisan glove maker who has been treating the hands of well-heeled Parisians since 1924. Gloves, you say? Really? And yes, really- forget handbags and the blanket-like scarves all the girls are wearing- let them wear gloves!

Certainly, they'll cost a good third of your month's pay, but unlike cheap T-shirts and 2008 tunics, these little bunnies will last you your whole life. At present, I am particularly desirous of Fabre's modern, bright colection of driving gloves. (To drive for, my darling, to drive for!) Although I didn't have the courage to enter the boutique, (I'm on financial lockdown, being unemployed) the glass facade allowed me to hone in on several paris that might fit into a stocking if Santa brings my ship in.

....They also have men's gloves. Too, too stylish. I have a new crush!

Jardin du Palais Royal- SERGE LUTENS

I don't know how it is that I lived in Paris for 5 years without visiting the boutiques of the Jardin du Palais Royal. With brands like Dries Van Noten and Stella McCartney, it's probably a good thing. Last night, I set off a la recherche of a brilliant designer named Serge Lutens. He doesn't make clothing- he makes women mysterious. His breathtaking shop in the Jardin de P.R is dark and romantic, a perfect place to end a melancholic Parisian day. Never girly or ostentatious, his perfumes remind the wearer of the power of her femininity. I've been searching for a new scent since I stopped wearing L'eau d'issey in college, but I just couldn't find something that defined me. (Mind you, I've been looking for 8 years!) Too sugary, too bold, too much patchouli, so many of the parfumes on the market today are overly-sensual or the opposite: capricious. Finally, I have zeroed in on a perfume called "Un Bois Sépia", described in the delightful Serge Lutens catalogue as "Un tweed, un chypre".

Each unique scent is packaged in a stately 75ml glass bottle- the bottles can be engraved or customized in a timeless "Nicolas Cochin" font for a little extra. I've become a little tired with the wastefulness of being trendy, and I'd like to purchase something for myself for the approaching New Year that means something- that serves a deeper purpose. Rereading my own words makes me think I should do something charitable, but we all deserve a little something for making it through 2008. And how can a lass resist the siren's call of seduction?

Une composition olfactive n'est pas une recette: tels les personages d'un roman, les essences sont vivantes. Influencées plutot que placées, en accord, elles reforment en trame une matiere expreimée ou se déclare le parfum. -Serge Lutens

Le Plaisir de....y aller

One of the best things about Paris is its many, many cinemas. Seeing a movie in the States still requires a little forward-thinking and planning- especially if one wants to see a film that requires the use of one's brain. In Paris, seeing a movie is as simple as popping into a café for an espresso. With few exceptions, every arrondissement has a handful of cinemas showing fabulous international films at any given time. One of my greatest pleasures in life is seeing a film "sur la pouce" and stopping into a little bar afterwards for a bubbly glass of something to mill things over in my head.

Last night we saw a great film, followed up by a great glass of Tariquet at the wine bar, Au Pere Louis. I would highly recommend both, especially the film, Le Plaisir de Chanter. Notice how much closer the French film their actors' faces and movements. Sensual and vivid, this is also a very funny film, unlike many contemporary French dramatic comedies that make you want to kill yourself.

Centre de Yoga du Marais

Next up, I tried out the Centre de Yoga du Marais. From the bios on the website, it seemed that most of the teachers were American-trained and many in the Kripalu tradition. On Tuesday, I meandered through the hipper-than-thou streets of the third arrondissement with their nameless boutiques and restaurants to a small (really small!) studio on the street level. Despite the mammoth pole dividing the room in two, the studio was warm and welcoming, with candles and little shelves built into the walls, filled with inspirational photos and trinkets. There were soft blankets and quality mats available, along with blocks, belts and bolsters. The regular teacher and owner wasn't there, and her class was led by a lovely girl named Chantal. If the class itself had been a little harder, I would have been in heaven. Chantal was fantastic, hands on, non-judgemental, and better yet, funny. Now I know that yoga is what you make it, but I like to sweat. The class was 90 minutes long with some difficult asanas, but it was sloooooow- and not slow in a good way, slow in that we paused after every single asana.

I talked to Chantal for a while after class and she expressed some frustration with the level of the class. She said that although she was certain her students could go further physically, mentally, they showed no interest in doing so. The French are inherently lazy. I'm sorry, but it's true. They like to do just a little bit, never too much- if you push them too far, they start to complain. They are a very sensitive people! Just look at all the fuss they've kicked up over working on Sundays! As if Sundays weren't the most depressing day of the week. I'd be happy to work a Sunday for them. Call me, I need a job!

No yoga in Paris- Studio Géraud Arnaud

Who would have thought an inspirational yoga class would be so hard to find? I've been trying hard to dig up something equal to the transformational 90 minute classes I took with Mark Gerow at Great Barrington Yoga- to no avail. (So far!) Most of the yoga classes I have tried out are sterile and strict, and follow in the Iyengar tradition. Nothing wrong with Iyengar- but sometimes a girl wants to have a little fun on the mat, non?

I'll be posting reviews of the different centers and teachers I try out to help the yoga-hungry find some soul food in Paris.

First up, the Géraud Arnaud Studio, also referred to as La Féderation Francaise de Yoga. So far, I've tried out classes with Ivana and Masako. Ivana's class was intimate and amiable. The students were open-minded and friendly. The class itself was listed as a level two, but it was more of a beginner's class with little-to-no focus on breathing. The class began right away with chanting, which might be shocking to some people. In most of the classes I've taken in the States, the teacher usually tells the class what will happen next, especially if you are about to move into chanting or meditation. Both teachers at Géraud's studio simply took a without-further-ado attitude and hopped right into it. I find this off-putting, but maybe that's just me.

On the recommendation of one of Ivana's students, I took a class with Masako, who, according to this student, had a class that was very "tonique". (I.e, hard). Again, there was little focus on breathing, which really surprised me. Many of the students moved into the poses before the teacher announced them, which led me to imagine that her class must consist of the same asanas all the time. There was a nasty, competitive vibe in the class- not necessarily generated by Masako, but more by the women d'une certaine age in the class. It seemed that everyone was there to move their body parts and nothing else. The class itself was intermediate. But it wasn't very fun!