Bistro find! Alert! Alert!

When you've lived in Paris long enough, you know how to recognize a life-changing bistro. You don't necessarily need to be told about it beforehand, or rely on word-of-mouth before trying it out. And you certainly don't need to have read about it first. Sometimes, you go for a walk in any old particular direction, as one tends to do in Paris, and there it is, just waiting for you. Your perfect bistro, sitting off in a corner in the most improbable place.

My perfect bistro is Le Petit Sud-Ouest on the humdrum Rue Duban. I just spotted it today. Sometimes you can tell by the build-up of stickers from serious guides and defunct magazines. Sometimes you can tell from the wear and tear of the tiled floors, or the patina of the tables. Other times, it's the menu that pulls you in, that tempts you toward a table. In this case, it was all of the above, although I have to admit that any place serving a terrine de creme caramel has got to be quite serious. This restaurant is Basque, so that means lots of duck, terrines, foie gras, outrageously unhealthy salads and lots of serious meat cooked with sheer reverence. Although main dishes range from 19 euros to 35 euros, they advertise a prix fixe menu for 26 euros (including a digestif!), which certainly sounds like a steal. I will check back and report once I find out if it is.

Mamma Mil'a

It's amazing how Christmas really gets you in the spirit of wanting. The brightly lit windows, the sparkling trees, the hustle and bustle and strangers in their finery- you walk around the city to the rythym of "I want, I want, I want!" This place is going on my to-do list. Apparently, it opened this summer and specializes in southwestern French cooking, which could or could not mean "Basque". They organize degustations on Wednesday nights of lesser-known vintages from Languedoc, Bourgogne and Gascogne, accompanied with tapas. I usually hate tapas, I find the concept sort of annyoing- but this place looks darling enough to make me reconsider.

Heimstone sweet home

I had never heard nor seen of this label before I had to kill some time while my husband was waiting in a very (very!) long line at Poilane to buy a pain au chocolat. Wow- I was impressed. It's rare to see clothing with an edge in Paris that you can actually pull off without looking like you've had an unsuccessful career in the theater. I'm not sure if I can personally pull off Hemstone's brass designs, but I want to try. I feel like their pieces are the exact type of thing you yearn for when you want to do something out of the box, but you're not ready to try a new haircut. I love (love, love!) the Tina and Nico dresses. And you can't help but fall for their video lookbooks. So irreverent! So fun!

Photo by StyleServer

I want to cuddle with Fausto Santini

Futuristic, colorful, flexible, tactile- that's how I'd describe the pumps and bags at Fausto Santini. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I have the distinct impression that my life would be remarkably different if I owned the "Maggiolinaprugna" in orange, or the "Reflexcedro" in green. I also think my husband's life would be vastly improved if I had discovered the "14Caffé" wallet many, many days ago, instead of on Christmas Eve. Oh well! Vivre les soldes, right?

Photo by Camille Hudson Shoes.

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!