After glow

Magical night at La Fontaine de Mars - after vernissage-wine party - on rue Saint-Dominique).

- Merci encore nos amis -

❤️❤️❤️

🍷🍷

 

Saint Patrick's Day Paris

 

Irish pubs throughout Paris fill with revelers on Saint Patrick's Day.

Above: at Corcoran's Pub high above the city on a stairway just beneath the Basilica 

Montmartre en fête

 

Into the weekend with images from last week's annual grape harvest festival.

Below: street food stalls; streaming toward the Basilica; parade

Flashback Friday

Today's flashback is to Cadaqués, Spain, just south of the French border, circa mid-80s - days of celebrations, couch squatters, droppers-in, gallery openings, seaside horchata and feasting - that we will always call home. - BPJ

 Above: large watercolors of mommy's helper ❤️ Danielle❤️ on our terrace at sunset overlooking the crescent bay and village (the artist was an Australian art student en passant, hence the kangaroos - if she spots these, I hope she contacts me!)

 

Musique en fête

 

This year's fête de la musique was especially high-spirited after over a year of on/off lockdowns.

 Above: almost every square, street corner and café terrace in Montmartre had its music

Snow moon

Last night's magnificent Snow Moon, so named for the amounts of snow that usually fall this time of year, enhanced by clear skies.

3 hours (or less) from Paris: A taste of Istanbul

Looking back....

  There were spices destined for recipes handed down from grandmother to granddaughter, from generation to generation. There were spices for dishes yet to be conceived, and spices whose odors triggered memories buried for years... The sheer quantity and variety on offer were enough to make heads spin faster than a Whirling Dervish, and all the usual staples were present: coriander, cinnamon, allspice, ginger, flame red paprikas, cardamom, golden turmeric, saffron, green cumin, ground coconut, black, red, green and white peppercorns, curry mixtures, licorice, dangling strings of dried eggplants, peppers, dried fruits, dates, chilies and okra; pastries galore, boxes, bags, tins and bins of rose waters, rose buds, oils, henna, natural sponges, herbs, seeds, beans and nuts of every persuasion and hue, including Turkey’s famously flavorful pistachios.

 From, "Turkish Delight on a Moonlit Night" © Barbara Pasquet James

***

Adjectives describing the ancient Ottoman city straddling the Bosphorus are as plentiful as the vendors selling bright pomegranate juice on almost every corner. But due to political upheavals and other factors over recent years, tourism in what was one of the world's most vibrant destinations - just a 3-hour flight from Paris - has dwindled dramatically. And that is unfortunate. Having had family based in Beyoğlu, the district of narrow cobbled streets bulging with hip cafés, restaurants and tons of ambiance on the European side, we were able to enjoy this city like locals. Forever in search of a gastronomic discovery, I especially loved exploring the fish markets with their small tables set up under bridges, the wood-pit rotisseries and Turkish coffee enclaves but mostly, wandering through the spices and food markets on the Anatolian or Asian side, which exuded an entirely different feel. - BPJ

  Above: food stalls in Istanbul's ancient spice bazaar Misir Carsisi a.k.a. The Egyptian market

 

Below: tea nooks line market passageways; simit, a twisted bagel-like bread covered in sesame (or poppy) seeds; women rolling out yufka, Turkey's paper-thin national flatbread;
classic Hagia Sophia skyline from a boat

 

(click photos to enlarge)

Sans culottes

Montmartre's sans-culottes march to their own beat at a joyful celebration on the butte.

***

  Be in-the-know for upcoming don't-miss events in Paris' hilltop village this fall

September newsletter

Remerciements

À mes chères et chers, merveilleuses et merveilleux --
 


Thank you, again, for your unwavering support... and for the WWLDD?* T-shirt. ❤️❤️❤️



Yours,
 Barbara



* What Would Larry David Do?








This week look for more photos from our week in Provence (w/on-the-way stopoffs in Burgundy and Auvergne)... and from Le Cordon Bleu's non-stop apéro dînatoire extravaganza.

Enjoy your weekend, wherever you are. Soon...! - BPJ




Photo and design by Nadège  

Country cool

Yesterday began a week of canicule, when temperatures soar and Parisians flee to cooler climes.

Above: apéro table from a celebration in the countryside

Tribute to an Old Etonian

Above: my interview of Clement von Franckenstein (Boulevard France Magazine July/Aug 1996 issue) on his role as President of France opposite Michael Douglas and Annette Bening in The American President (director: Rob Reiner)

***

“Barbara, is your couch free?” The resonant voice on our answering machine with its distinctive English accent belonged to Clement von Franckenstein, the “c” dropped by a certain Mary Shelley writing a first novel. He was heading to England from Los Angeles, his adopted home - but first, a quick stop in Paris.

We’d met in the late 80s at a New Year’s party in LA. I was between husbands on hiatus from Europe, about to spend a year in San Francisco. The host was a friend of my daughter’s self-appointed godfather, British author, explorer, poet - and near-miss member of the House of Lords (he refused to pay the £10,000 “ridiculous” fee "on principle") - Michael Alexander. No sooner had our small group made its entrance when Clem, as we came to call him, dapper in a tuxedo, shot over to greet us. He'd recognize "Eurotrash" anywhere he said, adding wryly, "Join the club!" When Michael told him he’d known his father, Baron (later Sir George) von Franckenstein, Austrian Ambassador to the Court of St. James, it was like a gift from above. Clement had lost both of his parents in a tragic plane accident when he was just nine and had little recollection of them. It was thanks to his devoted Nanny, he told us, who'd salvaged his inheritance from greedy relatives, was he able to attend prestigious Eton College. He came to love Michael, who would recount to him details from that friendship that Clem greatly cherished - and on whose London couch he was crashing when Michael passed away in late 2004.

Trained opera-singer-turned-actor, Clem played cricket in the shadow of the Hollywood sign alongside Julian Sands and was friends with Billy Idol’s mother. On the Gallic front digestifs, Bordeaux wines, Renoir and Yves Montand topped his list. He approved of my French husband, adored daughter Danielle (in a happy coincidence they were once cast as father and daughter in the same film) and was a staple at family events. His address book throbbed with A-listers and rock stars, and no matter what day of the year we’d land in LA, he'd be off to yet another private bash that same evening, and invite us along: parties in gated mansions overlooking city lights or the ocean, catered rooftop soirées where the hired musicians might sound exactly like The Beach Boys... because they were.

One of my favorite Clem stories was the time he asked me to be his guest at the Viennese Opera Ball to be held at the Beverly Wilshire. We knew it would be quite the occasion but were unprepared for the sheer number of tiaras, and felt slightly under dressed. Still, holding our heads high, we entered the Grand Ballroom and waited our turn to be announced as the other guests - including actor Joseph Cotten and an assortment of international glitterati - had been. “Miss Barbara Pasquet James and the Baron Clement von Franckenstein!” As we entered the ballroom, flanked by a lineup of smiling onlookers, a woman in a red gown (that "made her look like a London bus" Clem was to quip later) was overheard loudly telling her apparently hard-of-hearing husband, “Honey, that's the name of that monster!” Clem stopped in his tracks and, with all eyes upon him, calmly turned to face her. "My dear Madam," he boomed in his most engaging theatrical voice, "Frankenstein was the doctor!”

Years later over lunch at the Chelsea Arts Club's communal table in London where James Whistler had entertained Monet, Clem said to me, thoughtfully, “You know Barbara, had you married me you’d be the Baroness Von Franckenstein!” I told him it was tempting, pointing out that I wasn't "buxom" (one of many Clem terms) enough for his tastes. And we couldn't stop laughing.

But Clement was, as Michael used to say, "not husband material." An insatiable ladies man, in 2001 he found himself on People Magazine's "50 most eligible bachelors in America" list along with Ben Affleck, Josh Hartnett and Matt Damon. He was that rarity in life, a devoted and true friend. He was offensive, hilarious, debonair, outrageous and generous, all at the same time. He could burst into a flurry of insults if cut off in traffic as easily as a litany of limericks. He was in over 80 movies, mostly under-the-radar roles, but for us, his biggest and most starring role was being part of our lives. - BPJ

R.I.P.

Clement von und zu Franckenstein
May 9, 2019

 

“He talked too loud. He drank too much. He cursed like a sailor. But he also sang like an angel, let strangers crash on his couch, and cried like a baby when his kitten was sick. He offended some, charmed many, but was forgotten by none.” - From one of his many friends

 

  

Below: at Michael Alexander's wake in London w/me, Danielle; Clem helms magnificent Christmas Day lunch in the English countryside; at Berlin red carpet film festival (w/George Clooney, his dear friend Tilda Swinton, Ethan Cohen, Alden Ehrenreich, Josh Brolin, Channing Tatum, producer Robert Graf); joining us in Cadaqués, Spain, his hair dyed blonde for a film role; photographed w/one of his paintings in his LA home last year, one of the last times we were to be with him

 

Santé!

"Santé!" (to your health...), the standard toast in French, has never seemed so apt.

Above: setting up for Sunday night's multi-time-zone zoom session when everyone raised a glass

***

The grissini is Mario Fongo's whole wheat hand-rolled grissini integrali at Eataly Paris (online), many Italian specialty shops, at La Grande Épicerie and other épiceries. Call first.

Le 14 juillet

Private party with unbelievable views of last night's Bastille Day fireworks high from a friend's magnificent Montmartre terrace.

 

***

Merci à toute la bande...

A musical feast

From private jazz soirées to neighborhood street singers, classical chamber groups and blues bands, yesterday's annual Fête de la Musique took over the city.

Dîner en Blanc 2018, in pictures

On June 3rd the world’s largest organized pop-up picnic, the exclusive Dîner en Blanc – Dinner in White - toasted its 30th anniversary, in Paris.

Now in The Good Life France Magazine

Dîner en Blanc: 30 years

 

 

Friendship. Gastronomy. Elegance. Magic.

Last night the world's biggest organized pop-up pique-nique celebrated 30 years, opening its doors to the international community.

This year's surprise location: the esplanade of the magnificent Hôtel des Invalides

Article and more photos: The Good Life France Magazine.

[To Ralph: "And the party goes on!"]