I’m feeling a tad peckish. I hope you are too, as for this installment of my Alphabet series we’re headed for a delicious dinner of flambé beef.
When you spot palmiers the size of your head at a local Parisian bakery, and immediately convince yourself that you can’t leave without buying one for the road.
I’m in the process of merging some content from my other blog, Fernweh Friday, with Marla on the Move. From time to time I’ll be migrating some of my older posts here. I figured that a post about the food in Paris was a great place to start! So let’s get started with a post I wrote shortly after returning home following a girls’ trip with my friend, Stephanie back in 2016.
This is the stuff my dreams are made of. I mean, come on.
I mentioned in a #POTD earlier this week that we’d gone to Voodoo in Portland. The line outside was long and the sun was blazing – two things to quickly make me very cranky. But I had high hopes after reading so many good reviews online, and decided that it had to be worth the wait.
Once we finally made our way to the doors, I realised that there was a line snaking around the store. Thankfully it was out of the sunshine though.
After much humming and hawing, we each selected 2 donuts..
(Yes, I know I spell it differently to Voodoo.. but both are correct.. ahem)
Blueberry Cake and Dirt for me, and Voodoo Doll and plain glazed for James. I carried that bright pink box through town like it was precious cargo and looked forward to trying them later that day when we arrived at Silver Fall State Park campground.
I supposed you’d like to see the donuts?
Drum roll, please..
Verdict? Don’t believe the hype!
The two top donuts (Dirt and Voodoo Doll) were really good. The others weren’t. Would I stand in line like that again, when we have better donut options back home? That would be an hard pass.
But I’m happy to say that we’ve been, and have checked it off the list.
Have you been to Voodoo? If so, what are your thoughts?
We made it to Portland’s most popular donut shop, and after standing in line in the baking sun there was no way I was walking away with only one. Waistline be damned!
Have you heard the story about François Vatel, the butler at the castle of Chantilly who invented Chantilly cream? Allow me fill you in..
Confession time. I can only remember having crepes twice in my life.
I know, I know. This is beyond shameful.
My first time was over 10 years ago in Saint-Remy-de-Provence. It wasn’t intentional either. Basically, when I was hungry for lunch after a busy morning of sightseeing I learned the hard way that small town restaurants don’t always have continuous service. If I wanted to eat, it would have to be a dessert crepe.
To celebrate my birthday in Paris, I enjoyed a lovely dinner at one of my favourite restaurants. I’ve been to La Jacobine several times over the years and it never disappoints.
A definite highlight of our girls’ weekend in Las Vegas was afternoon tea. The Waldorf Astoria tea lounge is located on the 23rd floor, with a view over the famous strip.
Service was warm and efficient, run like a well-oiled machine. After choosing our teas (Mad Hatter’s Tea Party for Stephanie, and Flowery Earl Grey for me), we were left to chat and get comfortable.
Stephanie also ordered herself a glass of Ruinart Rosé Champagne, which was a nice addition. I was on medication so sadly couldn’t join her.
On the menu..
Freshly Baked Signature Scones
Accompanied by Devonshire Cream, strawberry preserves and lemon curd.
I’m a big fan of afternoon tea, and would have to say that the Waldorf Astoria puts on one of the nicest I’ve experienced.
It was such a lovely time catching up with Stephanie over tea and delicious finger foods. We don’t see each other nearly as often as I’d like. I look forward to our next tea for two.
To see my complete album of photos, click here.
The weather forecast for this weekend was dismal. So when the rains tapered off yesterday and there was a tiny hint of sunshine, I threw on my coat, grabbed my wallet and headed out the door. I had no idea where I’d end up. I just needed to get out of the house.