Exhausted and broke from all the traveling we've done over the weeks, we took it slow last week and ate at home for a good part of the week. On Tuesday night, B made chicken fajitas, which we ate with cucumber salad while watching Kungfu Panda.
As I had to cancel our picnic lunch to go to Brussels, I made it up to Marine on Friday, and met her friend Chloe over salad and baguette. It was a sunny day and I was reluctant to return to the apartment, so I took a short stroll down to the Opera Garnier, as well as to check out the sales in the shops. I spent a good hour in Zara, and after meeting the same sales assistant at my third turn in the dressing rooms, I finally decided on a black dress with colored brooches. Very un-Leigh style, but I loved it.
B came back from work early that evening, so after a quick wash and change, we took the metro down to a famous seafood restaurant near the St. Lazare metro station.
I tried escargots for the first time, and I loved them! The earthy smell of the snails were almost non-existent, and the garlic butter they were smothered in had me mopping up every drop with bread.
I had the grilled salmon, while B opted for the huge-ass seafood platter. Unlike the ones we have at Fish & Co. in Singapore, the seafood platters here in Paris were made up of mostly fresh shellfish like crabs, prawns, oysters, mussels and many more unidentifiables.
I was ridiculously happy to have him peel a prawn for me, and we enjoyed one of the slowest meals we've had so far. We talked more than we ate, and lingered through the meal for over two hours - an impressive feat for B who often polishes his plate in five minutes.
It was pouring the next morning, but we braved the drizzle to Marche St. Quentin at the end of our street to shop for our brunch. We shared a quiche and some salad, and had sausage and kebabs like we did during the Guethary weekend. And before we headed out for some shopping, I made some banana and Nutella crepes. The crepes were of course ready-made from our morning shopping. Haha.
The Saturday shopping crowds were not as chaotic as I'd expected, though we didn't end up with any buys. We walked around somemore, peeping into luxury stores and peering at the crazily-priced goods. 18,800 euros for a bracelet. 10000 euros for a pen. 75 euros for a tie. Seriously.
"If only we were better dressed, we could go in and take a look, drink a coffee. For 15 euros," said B when we passed by the Ritz. Yeah right!
We had made plans to check out an African/Senegalese restaurant, but we passed by a Mexican restaurant B had heard good reviews about. We love Mexican food, and were a little too tired from all the walking. I was also still a little embarrassed about an earlier episode, where we stepped on top of an air vent and my floaty sarong skirt had me doing a Marilyn Monroe.
Anyway, we were ushered in with somberos, and serenaded by a trio of old but enthusiastic guitar-strumming singers. I like.
I finally had a mojito, which I had been craving since my return from Brussels. We tried cactus salad (no thorns, thankfully), and I had a burrito while B had an enchilada. Both were flawless and extremely good.
When rain clouds on Sunday morning foiled our plans to head to Versailles, we slept in, had brunch while watching Balls of Fury, and took a catnap, before heading down to the Luxembourg Gardens for a walk.
It's been awhile since I took my Nikon out, so I satisfied myself snapping away at the lush greenery and unsuspecting people.
There was some sort of miniature sailing boat competition happening at the pond right outside the French Senate.
At other shadier parts of the garden, parents swung their kids on swings, while the older folks gathered around to watch tennis. And I adore the shot of the children on the donkeys.
Unwilling to head home so soon, we continued strolling down towards St. Germain des Pres on a half-hearted search of Pierre Hermes macarons, but it was Sunday and the shops were closed, not that we found it anyway. Haha. My butt and thighs were still aching from Friday's yoga session, and after finally making it up the six flights of steps back to the apartment, I plopped down on the sofa and announced that I had enough of washing the dishes. Ahh, the PMS-devil rears its horns.
Gathering the secret ingredients he had bought that morning while I was in the shower, B proceeded to whip up the tastiest homemade beef burgers. So while he toiled at the stove in the FabIndia kurta I bought him, I entertained myself choosing movies and snapping away at his endeavours.
For starters, we had wine, salad and toast with salmon pate and a fruit cheese we bought at the market the day before. B loved it, but I found it a little too sweet and strong.
And here, the fruit of his endeavors: cheese burgers with sautéd onions and grilled tomatoes.
I'm off to the shower, then to Galleria Lafayette for a spot of shopping before meeting B at the cinema tonight for a movie and McDonald's. I hadn't eaten at a single fast-food chain since my arrival in Europe, but I thought I'd give it a shot, just to see how mass-produced burgers compare against his homemade ones. It feels like a date!
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