Happy Independence Day!

Before this week's post begins I'm happy to share with you that I (finally) have an author Facebook page. I do hope you will 'like' it to get the latest news and updates from my blog and books. Click here to visit my new page or visit: http://www.facebook.com/JenniferLScottAuthor

As this week is somewhat of a holiday I will go light on the blogging but wanted to share my follow up video with you that has further thoughts on the concept of jolie laide. I received a great response from last week's post on the subject and had a few requests to discuss it more.

Discovering the French concept of jolie laide (ugly pretty) was a really important aspect of stepping into my femininity. It was the moment where I decided to embrace all of my 'imperfections' and learn how to make the best of my features.

It's a wonderful concept to teach our daughters as well- that we do not need to fit into a certain glossy magazine mold in order to be beautiful...

If you are unable to see my above embedded video, click here, look in the sidebar of this blog, or visit my channel: www.youtube.com/TheDailyConnoisseur. I am whispering in the video as I did not want to wake up Baby Connoisseur no. 2. (watch to see how that goes...)

Also, thank you to blogger Vintage Bel for featuring me in her Glamorous Mum series this week. Click here to see her article.

I hope you all have a wonderful week with your families. See you soon!

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Before this week’s post begins check out my video called Clutter-Free Home: Checking the Mail. In the video I share with you my top tip for dealing with mail and paperwork in an orderly manner. If you are unable to see the embedded video above, click here, look in the sidebar of this blog, or visit my channel: www.youtube.com/TheDailyConnoisseur

And now for this week’s post:

The Signature Cake

When I lived in Paris one of the things that greatly impressed me were the homemade desserts we enjoyed on a regular basis. Madame Chic had her arsenal of recipes. Fruit tarts were her specialty- mainly apple in the winter and strawberry in the summer- but she also liked to make crêpes, custards, fruit salads and cake.

Madame Bohemienne had a few dessert recipes she always made as well but my favorite was her flourless chocolate cake. That cake was so moist and delicious… It looked very simple but was a show stopper and the ultimate pièce de résistance at her dinner parties. She told me it was really easy to make and that she didn’t even use a recipe anymore- she had made it so many times the steps and ingredients were engrained in her memory.

Having a signature cake recipe, a simple one that you can make easily and that you can perfect, is a great thing to have.

Since being back in America I have searched high and low for a flourless chocolate cake recipe that rivals that of Madame Bohemienne’s and I have found one that I can now call my own.



This recipe is from the Epicurious website. It’s a delicious recipe and oh so French. The ingredients are very simple, as are the steps (everything is mixed in one bowl- which also cuts down on cleaning time). The ingredients are also common- you will most likely have these things on hand in your home so if you find that you’ve got last minute dinner guests it would be easy to whip one together.

Flourless Chocolate Cake

Ingredients:
4 ounces fine-quality bittersweet chocolate (not unsweetened)
1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
3/4 cup sugar
3 large eggs
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder plus additional for sprinkling

Preheat oven to 375°F and butter an 8-inch round baking pan. Line bottom with a round of wax paper and butter paper. Chop chocolate into small pieces. In a double boiler or metal bowl set over a saucepan of barely simmering water melt chocolate with butter, stirring, until smooth. Remove top of double boiler or bowl from heat and whisk sugar into chocolate mixture. Add eggs and whisk well. Sift 1/2 cup cocoa powder over chocolate mixture and whisk until just combined. Pour batter into pan and bake in middle of oven 25 minutes, or until top has formed a thin crust. Cool cake in pan on a rack 5 minutes and invert onto a serving plate. Dust cake with additional cocoa powder and serve with ice cream if desired. (Cake keeps, after being cooled completely, in an airtight container, 1 week.)

The recipe does require a double boiler like mine pictured below.



If you don’t have one of these you can always use a bowl over a pot of barely simmering water and that should work just fine. Also wax paper is imperative to line the bottom of the pan (and don’t forget to butter underneath and on top of the paper. This allows the cake to come out smoothly…) And finally, it’s not in the recipe, but a small sprinkling of confectioners sugar on top is a nice touch.

I would love to know… Do you have a signature cake?

To see the recipe on the Epicurious website, click here.


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Thank you so much to everyone for all of your lovely messages about the baby. We are all thriving and doing very well. Our baby girl is changing so much every day I am savoring every moment and am filled with gratitude.

Many of you have asked what we named her. I have decided to not announce her name publicly as baby connoisseur knows only too well the importance of maintaining an air of mystery. I will say that we chose a very traditional, whimsical and good old fashioned English name for her… and I must say it suits her very well!

On to other news…

This week I found a large envelope on my doorstep. It was from Madame Sportif and inside was a copy of French Elle à Table (pictured above)- a magazine she had told me about during our many cooking sessions together. It is a cooking magazine filled with beautiful recipes for everything from strawberry tarts to carbonaras. Included with the magazine was a note saying she had asked one of her friends from Paris to bring over the magazine especially for me. Then she told me news of her travel plans and informed me that she and her family will be sadly going back to France next week.

My heart sank at this news. I knew the Sportifs were only here for a year but during that time I forged a great friendship with Madame Sportif. She is truly a wonderful and thoughtful lady. How kind and considerate that she had one of her friends bring me that magazine all the way from Paris! I wrote her back to say that I will miss her greatly and if she ever finds herself in California again, to be sure and look me up.

The sadness I felt when I read Madame Sportif’s note was similar to the feeling I had on my last day in Paris. I’ll never forget it. Famille Chic was on holiday in their country estate in Brittany and I was alone in their 16th arrondissement apartment. My heart was filled with such conflicting emotions. On one hand I was excited to travel back home to California to see my family and friends again and start to live my new life as a daily connoisseur of the French philosophy. On the other hand I knew that I would never have this experience again- living in Paris with a French family- learning their secrets, exploring the city- exalting in life as a student without any major responsibilities. The cafés, the art, the food, the dinner parties, the new friends, the romance of it all…

On my last day in Paris I did not walk by the Seine or go see Notre Dame for the last time- I did not take a solitary stroll down the Champs-Élysées, instead I stayed inside the apartment of Famille Chic. That rich apartment that I had so grown to love. I made myself a small lunch, I played the record player, I drank a glass (or two) of port and I packed my bags. I left a note in the hallway for Famille Chic, thanking them for an experience most magnifique.

My last day in Paris was bittersweet but I also knew it was a turning point in my life and that I (much like the famed character Sabrina) would return to California a completely different girl.

And so I did…

Recently I received an email from Lana, a reader of The Daily Connoisseur. She wanted to know more about Madame Chic’s fashion sense and lifestyle. She had such great questions I decided to devote an entire post to the subject and have attempted to answer her questions below.

For those of you who are new to the blog, Madame Chic is the mother of the family I lived with when I was an exchange student in Paris. I could have also called her Madame Traditionelle because she had a very classic sensibility... but then, I’m getting ahead of myself...

Madame Chic’s Style

Madame Chic was a Parisian in the most traditional of senses. She was conservative and her style reflected her values gracefully. Madame Chic always wore a skirt. Always. On the coldest of winter days she would wear a skirt. The skirts would always be a-line, in tweed or wool, very sensible and slimming and hit just above the knee. She would pair a beautiful high quality sweater set with her skirts and wore minimal jewelry. In the winter months she donned a thick, wool coat, as the warmer months approached, she wore a classic trench coat.

It was not so much Madame Chic’s style that was extraordinary but the way she wore the clothes she wore. They fit her, flattered her figure and she felt comfortable and beautiful in them. Her portfolio of outfits was not overwhelming. In fact, her closet probably only held ten items. She would wear and repeat the same outfits all the time, but always looked put together... toujours. She did not change her outfit or style when hosting or attending dinner parties, but then again, her everyday clothes were a lot more formal than the average womans'.

How did she schedule her days?

Madame Chic worked part time and also did a lot of volunteer work. Her work schedule was relatively light which gave her a lot of time to take care of her family- doing the daily shopping, planning and cooking meals, cleaning the apartment (they did not have a cleaner) and preparing a lovely breakfast and delicious supper every night. Sometimes if I had time between classes to venture back home she and I would lunch together. Other days she would have girlfriends over to lunch. Madame Chic also loved chatting on the phone. She always got up before Monsieur Chic at the early hour of 5:30am. After the two of them breakfasted together and after my breakfast was served (a considerable time later), Madame Chic would chat on the phone to friends for twenty minutes to an hour each day.

What did she read and listen to?

I am not sure what Madame Chic read for pleasure. There was not a bookcase in the main part of the house. I did not see her reading during the day so if she read, it was in the evening, probably before bed.

The family did listen to music every evening. They had a vintage record player and after dinner every night (like clockwork) they would put on a record of classical music and sit and listen to it while the men smoked cigarettes. Other than the playing of classical music every evening, Madame Chic did not listen to any music during the day, save for a morning radio show that she promptly turned off as soon as I walked into the kitchen for breakfast.

Thank you Lana for your questions. I love getting questions from readers… If you have questions about any of the subjects I write about, please leave them in the comment section or email me and I will do my best to answer them!

Pictured above is my trench coat by A.P.C.– a classic Parisian wardrobe staple (inspired by Madame Chic) and one that I readily invested in after living in Paris...

As I write this I have a volcanic clay mask (by Epicuren) richly slathered on my face. Applying a mask is a ritual I have been doing once (sometimes twice) a week ever since I lived in Paris.

Before living in Paris- skin care was not something I paid much attention to. Admittedly I was still very young when I was in France (20 ans) but as far as French women are concerned, you are never too young to start caring for your skin.

In Paris there is a salon de beauté on what feels like every corner. Yes, the French are obsessed with beauty but in a different way than Americans. I find that they are happier with the way they look and would rather enhance their beauty than change it with surgery. Characteristics like a prominent nose, a gap between the teeth and/or a petite chest (all things that are desperately sought to be corrected aux États Unis) are actually revered in France. No, the way the French are obsessed with beauty is by taking care of their assets- what they already have- not by trying to alter themselves.

Perhaps the biggest asset of the French woman is her skin. Most French women get regular facials and use only the best skin care products they can afford when taking care of their skin at home. It is something that is simply done and not really talked about. Both Madame Chic and Madame Bohemienne had excellent skin. Both were women over 40; both with children. I could probably bet my life that neither of them had Botox or any other form of cosmetic surgery. No, their beautiful complexions were the result of years of ritualistic skin care.

Living with Madame Chic, I was too shy to ask about her skin care routine. The question seemed intrusive- too personal. I instead, became a detective to my curiosity. Because we shared a bathroom, I got a chance to see what sort of products Madame Chic used for her skin: Madame’s regime involved cleanser, toner, rose water and moisturizing cream (I’m sure there was exfoliant as well but alas I did not feel comfortable snooping for it- I am only reporting on what was on the counter- which I consider to be fair game!). And I did note on several occasions in the six months I lived with her that she would occasionally come back from an afternoon out in the city with glowing, complexion- the sort that one gets right after having a facial.

When I turned 25 I started to get regular facials. At first (due to my minimal budget) I would get one every two months and as time went on I started to get them every month. After a few years of doing this I can definitely see dramatic improvements in my skin, which has always been rather troublesome. My problems with breakouts and uneven complexion have gone down dramatically, and because my skin is clearer and smoother, I wear less makeup as a result (a must for le no makeup look). I will expound more on the wonders of skin care- Comme les Français in future posts but for now I need to take off my Volcanic Clay Mask.

I would love to know… what do you do to take care of your skin?

Pictured above are three products I really love: Volcanic Clay Mask, Fine Herbal Scrub and Hydroplus Moisturizer... all by Epicuren.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon cooking with Madame Sportif (my French neighbor). We spent four hours cooking, eating and chatting. I unearthed a wealth of information on how to live Comme les Français and cannot wait to share it with you! In the meantime, I have been poring through my journals and was recalled of a very special dinner party chez Madame Bohemienne that I thought you might enjoy…

One day I received a call from BP saying that Madame Bohemienne had a surprise for us and would I be able to come over for dinner that evening? I was intrigued and could hardly refuse. I took the forty-minute metro ride from the 16th arrondissement to Chez Bohemienne and walked up those ten flights of steps wondering what surprise could possibly await me…

It turned out Madame Bohemienne had just visited Brittany and had brought back with her an entire crate of fresh oysters. I nearly fainted with delight. Now many people do not like oysters. I am not one of those people. I love oysters. Mon Dieu how I love oysters! And I had never seen so many before my eyes as I had in that moment. I eagerly helped BP and her two sons set the table. Oysters were shucked, music was playing, we opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate and we sat down to feast.

Delicious is an inadequate word to describe that meal. The oysters (accompanied with mignonette sauce and big pieces of crusty French bread and real butter) were divine. The champagne bubbles delighted my tongue and left me feeling delirious. Afterward we ended with a delicious slice of Camembert.

It was a simple meal, but one of the best I’ve ever had. I don’t know how many oysters I ate that evening but I felt like a heroin in a Molière play (Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme springs to mind). There was something so wonderful about spoiling ourselves in such a decadent manner... I shall never forget my first oyster dinner party, Comme les Français...


Still Life with Wine Goblet and Oysters by Pieter Claesz is pictured above (dated 1630).

After I lived in Paris for a few months I started to learn the secrets of the city from the locals. Perhaps they waited to see if I was ‘worthy’ of being told the secrets or perhaps they had tried to tell me when I first got there but my French was so bad I didn’t understand what they were saying- either way I was grateful.

It was at one of Madame Bohemienne’s wild dinner parties where a few artsy types were the guests of honor, that I learned about the Louvre at Midnight.

“You haven’t heard about the Louvre at midnight?” they asked me astonished, as I had already been in Paris for a few months.

“Non!” I replied, leaning in over my coq au vin, “do tell!”

Well every so often (usually once a week- but one could never tell- and never really on the same day) a group of musicians played a free concert in the courtyard of the Louvre at midnight. It was spectacular- so special, so romantic! We had to go.

And go we did. I’m not sure how we found out what night they were playing as this wasn’t an advertised thing, but my friends and I, one crisp evening in early Spring, wandered into one of the courtyards of the Louvre and found a string quartet. Only a handful of people were scattered around the courtyard listening to the beautiful music. There were no chairs- people either sat on the edge of the fountain or on a blanket or scarf laid down on the floor.

The quartet played rapturously for about an hour- Mozart, Chopin, Brahms. I remember sitting there feeling so in the moment- so grateful that I was sitting under the stars in this beautiful city, by this beautiful building that held some of the world’s most important pieces of art in its walls, surrounded by friends and listening to this ‘secret concert’- and feeling that life was truly good, indeed…

I’m not sure if the secret concerts at the Louvre are still held at midnight, but if they are and you find yourself in Paris… allez, I tell you- allez…

Right off the bat I was very eager to help Madame Chic in the kitchen. I love to cook and I love French food so I wanted to take full advantage of learning her secrets. How was it that she managed to produce a delicious three-course dinner every single night without even so much as glancing into a cookbook? It was simple- she had been making these recipes for years and they came to her like second nature.

One of Madam Chic’s specialties was dessert- there was always dessert, and it was toujours delicious. My favorite of her desserts were her fruit tarts. They went from apple in the wintertime to strawberry as it neared summer. (Remember Famille Chic always ate seasonally. They would never dream of eating imported strawberries in the winter- not only for price and practicality purposes but because they were inferior to the sweet little local gems that arrived late spring).

So early one evening, she and I were in the kitchen- the window was open and the warm Parisian breeze accompanied us as we cooked. The dessert for that evening? A strawberry tart. Madame Chic made her pâtee sucrée from scratch and I helped her roll it out onto the tart pan (which had gotten unprecedented use over the years). Then came time for the strawberries- which Madame Chic instructed me to place in the lined tart pan. I had cut and hulled the tiny little berries and eagerly dumped them into the tart pan, rearranged them slightly and looked up at Madame Chic for the next step.

I was met, not with instructions on what to do next, but with a look of horror from Madame Chic.

“Jennifer,” she said (in French of course) “Non! You must arrange the strawberries artfully, symmetrically, all around the dish. Avec precision!”

“Oh,” I said, looking down at my tart. I thought it looked rather nice- artistic if one were being nice.

She proceeded to show me how it should be done and started to arrange the berries around the perimeter of the crust, spiraling in as she went. I finished it off and in the center we placed the nicest looking berry. Then we proceeded to drizzle on the glaze.

“Much better,” Madame Chic said with palpable satisfaction.

I’ll never forget that day in the kitchen with Madame Chic. She taught me that no occasion is too small to live well and have only the best. That perfect little strawberry tart wasn’t made for a party or to impress guests. It was made for her family- her husband, son and me, the lucky college student that got to experience life comme les Français for those few magical months…

The strawberry tart from Everyday Food is pictured above. You can get the recipe here.

One of my favorite authors on the subject of French living and lifestyle is Anne Barone. She is the author of a handful of little books on how to stay chic and slim by adopting the French attitude to life (if you are a Francophile and aren’t already acquainted with these wonderful books- allez! Acquaint yourself with them- you will love them...)

Some of Anne’s suggestions are practical and relatable… some are a little more over the top. One of her suggestions is that you give yourself a French name. You know, a sort of alter ego. Her theory here is that your chic French alter ego will keep you in check from doing very un-chic things.

Barone argues that :

“Maybe someone named Bobbie Jo who had already eaten a good supper would snack on a whole medium pizza and wash it down with 12 ounces of cola watching three hours of television in the evening. But would someone named Marie-Jeanne or Claire do such a thing? Non, non, non! Pas possible!”

I remember the first time I read this I laughed it off as a silly gimmick but quickly I realized that, while a little nutty (I don’t know how many people I would actually admit this to) giving yourself a French name actually works! Alas, my French alter-ego, Jeanne, was born.

And with Jeanne, came a new feeling of confidence. Jeanne actually debuted in France- not when I lived in Paris but a few years before that when I spent the summer in the South of France (more on that in later posts). Jeanne is chic, she is confident, she can tackle the world and do it in style!

Occasionally, however, Jeanne is forgotten and real, messy life gets in the way…

For example:

A huge rainstorm hit Southern California this week and amidst all of the rain and thunder and utter chaos, I bravely ventured out of my home to go to the grocery store. Up until my grocery store trip I had been doing laundry and working on my book, so I did not think much about what I looked like when I bolted to the store at the first sign of sun.

I gathered the items I needed and while standing in line I caught myself in a mirrored reflection. I was wearing (I shudder to recount) a white velour tracksuit, black Ugg boots, a plaid wool coat, my hair in an unkempt ponytail and no make up. I nearly fainted from the sight.

Now here is where Anne Barone’s technique comes in handy. Perhaps Jennifer (that’s me) would do such a thing- go to the grocery store looking like a wild country club refugee, but Jeanne (my French alter ego) certainly would not. Non, Jeanne probably would have taken 5 minutes to pull her hair together, change clothes (or at least match her outfit!) and apply some blush and a dab of color to her lips…

I’m glad I caught myself in the mirror today because it brought me back to reality... That life is too short to not go through it chicly. Jeanne came just in the nick of time to remind me this and I couldn’t be more grateful…

I would love to know... what is the name of your French alter ego?


For more information on Anne Barone, or to purchase her books, visit www.annebarone.com


A model wearing Jean Paul Gaultier is pictured above.

The ritual of breakfast (or le petit déjeuner) in France is a very important one. Growing up in California, breakfast was certainly important, but never held much of a ritualistic value. I would usually scarf down a bowl of Cheerios or a piece of toast and call it a morning. Things, I would discover, were very different in Paris.

Monsieur Chic got up very early every morning to go to work (long before I would get up). He would rise for breakfast at 5:45am and be out the door by 6:30am. Madame Chic would rise before him and have his breakfast prepared by the time he got up(remember Famille Chic was very traditional- in fact I probably could have called them Famille Traditionnelle!) And as you can probably already imagine, breakfast chez Famille Chic was more than a piece of toast and a cup of coffee.

I discovered this on my first morning in the house. After getting ready for the day I walked timidly back to the kitchen (breakfast was the only meal served in the kitchen- the rest were strictly dining room only). There I heard the soft hum of the radio and the gentle clanking of dishes. Madame Chic made a comment about how I must like to faire la grasse matinée (sleep in). I remember looking at my watch and it being only 7:30am (and thinking, 'she doesn't know from sleeping in!')

Instead of saying that, however, I smiled politely as Madame Chic ushered me to the tiny kitchen table, which was adorned with a plethora of delicate little food items. She asked if I preferred tea or coffee (tea in the morning, merci) and she proceeded to pour my steaming cup of Ceylon tea into a breakfast bowl. Oui, you read that correctly- a breakfast bowl.

Yes, I thought perhaps I had gone mad or that the jet lag was getting to me or maybe Madame Chic ran out of teacups but the following day I noticed it again. In the morning, tea was drunk chez Famille Chic out of breakfast bowls. And it wasn’t just Famille Chic, I learned that most French people drink their morning beverage out of bowls. I found this quirky little ritual charming and decided to just go with it. After all, when in Paris...

Along with the tea (served ceremoniously in a bowl) a typical breakfast would include:

-a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice

-fromage blanc (a delightful fresh 'cheese' with similar consistency to yogurt that can be eaten with a sprinkling of sugar)

-a slice from last night's fruit tart (usually apple, cherry or strawberry- homemade by Madame Chic)

-toasted baguette with butter and jam (the jam was always homemade- strawberry, raspberry and orange marmalade were her favorites)

-a selection of cold meats (this was rare- but welcome from me as I like to have a little protein in the morning…)

I grew to adore those little breakfasts- they were a welcome departure from the dry cereal or heavy bacon and eggs I was used to. I was grateful to partake of those little delicacies every morning (I still miss my fromage blanc!) and enjoy my bowl of tea, the quiet hum of the radio and those lovely little moments shared with Madame Chic.

**Madame Chic served her tea out of a marvelous yellow tea pot. I found an almost identical one in England last year (pictured above) and had to have it for nostalgia purposes.

So I can’t believe I haven’t written about this yet but a French family has recently moved in next door to me in my Santa Monica town home! Our neighbors have rented out their home for one year and in moved a family from France.

You can imagine my delight upon learning this news as I have been able to observe how true French people live Comme les Français in Santa Monica! I shall call this family Famille Sportif as they are the most active family I have ever witnessed in my entire life. And by saying that, I am not exaggerating.

Famille Sportif is composed of a mother, father and two young sons. They are constantly lugging surf boards and skate boards, boogie boards and bikes out of their house (I see and hear everything) They seem to really like Santa Monica- its close proximity to the beach, the beautiful weather, the plethora of outdoor activities to take part in…

Observing Famille Sportif is great fun but the downside to it all is their sportiness makes me feel incredibly lazy. I can’t remember the last time I went to the beach! (Actually, I can. It was on my birthday in July and before that I hadn’t been in over a year). And yet every weekend I see the entire family of four coming back, suntanned and sanded- looking completely content.

I suppose it is a very French thing to take advantage of one’s environment and all of the pleasures it has to offer. There is an expression in French- profiter de la vie- which means simply to enjoy life or to ‘profit’ from it. I do realize that I live in a beautiful city- an active person’s dream, really. Famille Sportif has gently reminded me of this in their own very French way.

I think I’m going to start riding my bike more…

This weekend I saw the film An Education by director Lone Scherfig (thank you Rose for the recommendation!). This film really moved me. I loved it and highly recommend it- but this is not a review, as I don’t wish to give anything away about the film (just go see it!). What I want to do, however, is discuss the key question that encapsulates the movie- which, for me, is:

What constitutes an education?

Is it schooling, textbooks and exams? The gathering of information in one’s mind with the wistful hope that one day you will put that information and knowledge to good use?

Or is the ultimate education gained through experiences? Meeting people, leading an exciting life, traveling… living.

I suppose, for me, it was a combination of the two. Even though I am no longer at university, I still believe that my education continues. Yes, I studied English literature, Latin and French- Science and Math (not so good at the last two) and for the most part enjoyed my ‘classroom education’. But it has largely been through my travels and meeting interesting people that I have gained the biggest education- about myself- about life.

Living in Paris, of course, played a massive part in this. The culture, the fashion, the people the champagne (!) the lack of inhibition… That experience and those feelings are carried with me every single day of my life.

And yet while I appreciate all of the cosmopolitan moments in my life- past, present and (hopefully) future, I don’t think I could appreciate them fully without the levelheadedness that I learned in the classroom setting (after all, without dark, how can one appreciate the light?)

Yes, for me it has very much so been a delicate balance of the two…


So… I would love to know... what has constituted as an education in your life?


Carey Mulligan and Peter Sarsgaard are pictured above in a scene from An Education.

You’ve already read about the formal occasions that were Madame Chic’s dinner parties here. Now I will delve into the passionate soirees that took place chez Madame Bohemienne…

Madame Bohemienne loved to throw dinner parties (and like Madame Chic, threw them regularly). But with Madame Bohemienne’s parties there was less formality and more spontaneity. Her varied guests were (naturally) more of the Bohemian variety- artists, writers, philosophers… These were guests who sang for their supper in the form of providing witty conversation and entertainment.

We would always gather before dinner in her bright yellow living room for nibbles and aperitifs. Madame Bohemienne’s signature aperitif was a champagne cocktail that included: champagne, Grand Marnier, lime juice and simple syrup. It was a delightfully sweet concoction that did the trick- whetting the appetite and causing general giddiness all around.

Madame B’s dinner parties were sometimes a little too giddy, however. We would often find ourselves sitting down to dine after 10pm (very late for this Californian!). The dinner parties would start with the most formal of intentions… aperitifs at 8pm, for example, but somehow the laughing, debating and general merrymaking would distract our fabulous host and we wouldn’t sit down to eat for hours afterwards. Madame B would completely forget about the dinner on the stove and would have to be gently reminded…My stomach would grumble tirelessly during these times and I would usually quell my hunger by one too many champagne cocktails (but when in Paris…).

When we did finally make it to the table, however, it was worth the wait. Her fearlessness in serving course after course after course was truly admirable. That woman turned out more Boeuf Bourguignons and Coq au Vins than I could count. She never used a cookbook (come to think of it neither did Madame Chic… hmmm) and was very animated when cooking- when serving and when eating. Madame Bohemienne was someone who operated on all levels- sense wise. She would close her eyes when she ate, she would smell her wine before the first goût , she would savor the last bite of chocolate tart (and her chocolate tart was beyond divine)... She ate in the moment and completely surrendered to her senses.

In fact, she was my ultimate role model for passionate eating- for eating Comme les Français. I suppose the multitasking, clock worshipping American in me learned a few things from this marvelous woman who got carried away with conversation, laughter and champagne cocktails. In the end, dinner was always served (even if it was practically midnight!) and our bellies were full of the joy that inevitably comes with good food, good company and passion...


Cafe by Tsuguharu Foujita is pictured above.

This is the introduction to my new series of blogs on how to live like the French, or Commes les Francais. It's a topic that I have been exploring for a long time and after doing years of research- living in Paris and reading about the French philosophy on living- I am ready to apply those observations and what I've learned to my own life!

When I studied abroad in Paris as a college student I had the good fortune to live with a real French family- true Parisians in the heart of the 16th arrondissement. My French family was very old school, very traditional. They lived in a lovely apartment- high ceilings, gilded portraits of aristocratic looking family members from the 1800's, beautiful antiques everywhere- the works! It struck me from the very moment I walked through their threshold that the French live very differently than we do in America and other parts of the world.

So to kick off the fall 2009 season of The Daily Connoisseur, I am going to explore what it means for me to live comme les Francais, and see if I can apply these principles to my own life, living in Santa Monica and London (articles forthcoming).

Won't you join me?

Image courtesy of www.essentialarchitecture.com

One thing I have yet to discuss on this blog is cooking. This topic has been a strange omission on my part as it is such a huge part of my life. I love to cook. Starters, main courses, desserts... I love it all! I am not a cook of the freestyle variety however, and always heavily rely on cookbooks to create my delights. Today, my parents were coming over for lunch and as I have had a recent yearning for French food I got out my trusty cookbook Barefoot in Paris by Ina Garten- otherwise known as the Barefoot Contessa.

I'm a huge fan of the Barefoot Contessa's show and cookbooks- Ina has such a great way of creating delicious recipes that tend to look intimidating on the plate but aren't at all intimidating to make.

So for today's lunch? It was eggplant gratin with a simple salad. I love serving gratins as you can make them the night before and simply pop them into the oven about a half an hour before your guests want to eat. This gratin, which I had never made before, came out great and got rave reviews. But the piece de resistance? My dessert, a Coeur a la Creme. This delicious dish is similar to a panna cotta but done Parisian-style in a heart shaped mold and served with a dash of framboise sauce and some fresh raspberries. It is the easiest dessert in the world to make (another one that you prepare the evening before) and is a real show stopper for your guests.

There is nothing quite like an afternoon spent eating lovely food with the people you love...

I would love to know what you enjoy cooking...

Bon Apetite!

Barefoot in Paris can be purchased at: www.amazon.com

I re-learned a lesson today in the art of perfume appreciation. When I was 18, my father was working in Cannes, France for the summer and my mother and I had the good fortune of joining him there for six weeks. It was a transformational trip for me… my first time in Europe and the beginning of my life long love affair with European culture. During our time in the South of France we visited the perfume laboratories in Grasse, the perfume capital of the world. I knew little to nothing about perfume back then and was fascinated with the tour of the facility at Fragonard, where I learned about the art of appreciating fine perfume.

Today I tried a sample of Chanel’s Coco Mademoiselle based on several positive reviews I read in books and over the internet. My initial reaction was neither positive or negative. The top notes seemed to linger for a long time and were very heady and spicy. I dismissed it as not being “for me” and almost washed it off my wrist when I arrived home an hour and a half later. Something stopped me, however, and I am so glad I let the fragrance linger! It has since developed into an intoxicating aroma that has mixed with my body chemistry like a heavenly match. I am so glad I gave this one a chance!

Of course, they suggested this at Fragonard so many years ago… but I somehow forgot that one must have patience when waiting for fine things to develop.

Coco Mademoiselle has top notes of orange, bergamot and grapefruit. Middle notes of Litchi, rose and Italian Jasmine; and base notes of Indonesian Patchouli, Hawaiian vetiver and Bourbon Vanilla.

www.coco-mademoiselle.com