We came back from what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend escapade to Paris, and instead turned out to be a tad stressful.
The snow didn’t play the “Oooh so romantic” card for us. A layer of drity slushy was covering all the sidewalks and roads, from Rue de Rivoli to Place d’Italie, melting here and there into muddy ice-y puddles. Long queues were awaiting us wherever we happened to be, from the ticket machine at Gare du Nord to the Starbucks in Boulevard de Strasbourg.
Yes, you read well, Starbucks: the chronic lack of decent coffee, especially in the morning, can lead me to take such desperate measures. And yet, I didn’t manage to put my hands on the oh-so-desired paper cup. Apparently, I wasn’t the only desperate one, or maybe French correctly figured that American coffee can be better then theirs.
Also, we somehow managed to get treated badly by everybody: Le Bamboo’s Vietnamese Restaurant manager literally stripped my bowl still containing some gorgeous Pho broth from my hands. Not to mention other small episodes of rudeness here, there and everywhere.
Anyway, thumbs up for the Edward Hopper Exhibit, which was the main purpose of our trip, and for the transcendent carb experience at Du Pain et Des Idées, a bakery (THE bakery, the BEST bakery in Paris), near République –right in front of our lil’ hotel. Ok, also for the natural wine at Le Verre Volé –but again, weird service.
The day we were meant to leave the weather was so snowy that most of the trains have been cancelled. So, we wisely thought about anticipating our departure and make it home safely before worse would come to worse. Arriving at the London International station of St Pancras is always quite striking emotional. And, for the first time, I found myself with a big smile on my face, thinking that yes, London was my home now, and that I loved it beyond any possible understanding. Saying that we have to leave to appreciate what we have might be cliché, but it is always, un-mistakingly true.
We finally opened the door of our flat, after zigzagging for a while through the snow-y sidewalk –but surely less snow-y than the Parisian counterpart– welcomed by a rather chilly house, and a half-empty fridge. Hungry, desperate for a warm, albeit late lunch, we dropped our suitcases, still packed, and got our imagination going. We had bread, amazing Pain des Amis from the above-mentioned bakery, and that was a good start. We had eggs and broccoli, so it had to be frittata. Eggs with crusty bread? Sure. For some reason, it started to be our classic, back-home-from-trip meal, and we really enjoy it being so.
- 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- 1 head of broccoli, rinsed and cut into florets
- 2 tbsp grated Parmigiano
- salt and pepper to taste
- 1 red onion, thinly chopped
- 4 eggs
- 1/2 tsp fine grain sea salt
- freshly ground black pepper
- 1 tsp baking powder
- 1 tbsp whole milk
- 1 small bunch of fresh parsley, roughly chopped
You may also like : Dandelion Flower Pancakes