Just like in Melbourne, tram is the norm transport here. There are only three lines, which makes it a whole lot easier to get your head around, luckily for me! (There is a fourth one coming soon, I hear.) Also, the trams are way newer, making it a whole lot more enjoyable to travel on. At major stations there are machines to buy your ticket - single trip, day pass, night pass, 10 concession, week pass. Turn the knob to choose your ticket option, press to select, and follow the prompts to pay. The tram stops have panels indicating the final destination of trams and the estimated time of arrival of the next ones to your stop. Push the door button to get on the tram, and validate your ticket into the machine, arrows facing up. Many locals don't usually bother, but once in a while there are check rounds and you will be fined if caught. Push the button at door to descend from the tram, at your stop of destination. Easy peasey, right?
Without fail, I bake pavlova at least once in France. Pavlova that I never bake in my own country, New Zealand, isn't that funny? This time, the occasion rose earlier than expected, towards the end of my first week back in France. Though, I think it had always been on the back of my mind, so perhaps it had not been really unexpected.
We went shopping especially in its preparation. Eggs, check. Cream, check. Fruit, check. Pavlova is essentially a massive meringue with fruit decoration on top. The trick is to bake it long and slow, and let it cool in its own good time. I'd like to use less sugar, because it is super generous in the amount needed, but then the cake tends not to hold very well and flop in in itself. So best to make it wide and flat rather than thin and high.
The electric eggbeaters were put to work and the bowl turned over our heads to check the contents held well and did not fall on us. The French family was all surprised to learn that vinegar was needed in the recipe. Vinegar or lemon juice, a bit of acid is required to... Make the foam glossy, I think?!
While the pavlova was baking, someone had nicked our cream! (For a lovely quiche Lorraine, so she was forgiven.) We had to make do with what was left over, which unfortunately wasn't much... Our cream may not have been the best but we made up for it with our fruit decoration. And what a lovely pavlova it was. The family enjoyed it, thank goodness, and I got to show them a bit of Kiwi cuisine they hadn't tried before. Success!
Another of the Best, also from St Emilion. The Real macarons, way different from the sugary pastel sandwiched Parisian delicacies, are flatter, perhaps a little bigger, and heavily consists of almond meal. That is what I assume anyway, since the authentic recipe - the one and only - is a huge secret, handed down from person to person, one at a time. The first recipe came from a dream to a Ursuline sister in a convent near the current shop, in 1620. I adore Parisian macarons, but I really took to these too, though with only one flavour it can get a bit monotone. Half the fun in the Parisian namesake is trying to decipher the flavours and critiquing how well they turned out, after all.
The macarons come stuck on white paper, written the true macarons.
The only shop you will find these authentic treats. Available for online orders now as well from their site.
Rue Saint James is hipster. Is a bit touristy. Is a bit historic. Vintage bar was a favourite haunt of A's during her university years here, though this year she will be off to Turkey on an exchange. On her recommendation I had come to this little street yesterday, but too early, so had a snack lunch at a nearby restaurant. Happy hours are on from 5 til 7. Today I went for a Ti Punch, and my goodness it was strong. Ti punch is my friend T's favourite drink, and I much prefer his version, but at €3 you can't complain!