with love from Paris: the city of culture, style and culinary decadence

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There’s something to be said about the beautiful people in Paris. And that is that I am definitely not one of them. Not only am I about three feet too short, after two days of drip-feeding myself with macarons, chocolates, croissants, crepes and er, anything else I could get my mitts on, my face is suddenly an oil slick and hello, I have three new pimples to call my own.

Not to mention the bloatedness.

How do French women stay so thin and beautiful? Does anyone know? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?!

[echo]

Anyhoos. Paris.

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the snowy streets of Chamonix: dining (and skiing) in the French Alps

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Somehow, some how, we made it to Chamonix last week. After spending a gruelling 16 hours at Gatwick Airport due to flight delays (I think I topped up my frequent flyer points from the number of loo visits I made) and then being cancelled again at the end of the 16 hours, we somehow managed to make our way to Stansted Airport, and then to Chamonix, albeit 27 hours later than planned.

We were all cranky and tired and quite possibly very smelly, but arriving in Chamonix was like one of those lightbulb moments. Not so much like we had a great idea, because believe me, our brains were not thinking, but more like ah-haaaaah… ahhhhhhhh (that’s the glorious sound of me realising something).

The wondrousness of the place, the snow capped mountains and seemingly endless runs of white powder ~ it is seriously mesmerising and a natural upper like you can’t imagine. After the 27 hour commute, we arrived and literally picked up our skis and hit the slopes straight away.

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how Lille was conquered in a day (or two… of eating)

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macaroons from Les cailliardises

One of the things that still completely amazes me about living in London is its ridiculously close proximity to all things European. And considering the fact that I think everything is in Europe, I propel myself at every opportunity to travel (because travel is why I’m living 500 gazillion miles away from my friends and family). You need only say “hey Cat, do you want to g—-“ “Yes! YES I’ll go!”, it’s that easy. Because of this, I’m so in the red that I am red (oh wait, that’s from peeling beetroots the other night), but I also get to go to Stockholm, Helsinki, Amsterdam, Alicante, Vegas, San Fran and LA, all in the next ten weeks!

Oh, and I was just in Lille last weekend.

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accidental fine dining in France: L’Huitriere, The Oyster.

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L'Huitriere

So I accidentally went to yet another Michenlin star restaurant. Accidentally.

Planning for my weekend trip to Lille, some friends who had been before suggested I check out this restaurant called L’Huitriere, which is French for The Oyster. They said this so casually that they could’ve been telling me to go grab a croissant there, you know like just pop in, and grab a croissant for the road. No one, not once, mentioned it had a Michelin star and might set me back the cost of oh, my week’s rent.  I’m not cranky about it, it’s just, isn’t that something you’d mention? So anyway, I booked the dinner, and this is how I inadvertently ended up fine dining last Saturday night.

I told you it was an accident.

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