Shaboom and Keri take Paris

Shaboom of French Skinny, and Keri of My Year Started Tuesday Night are in Paris together RIGHT NOW. The blogosphere is all atwitter (sorry, that pun for my beloved father-in-law, who is very punny). Keri had to take a business trip to Brussels, and had one day off, and decided to take the fast train to Paris for the day, and Shaboom is showing her around. I love it when worlds collide! Except when those worlds send me mouth watering, taunting emails filled with photos of where I am not. Today we will go to Larchmont and eat Village Pizzeria. Some small consolation for NOT being in Paris, eating for two. 

Happy Anniversary. A day late and...

Yesterday marked my 6th wedding anniversary with Nipper Knapp. We've been completely consumed by our filming projects, and Jack being possessed by the devil, (more on that later), so we agreed that we weren't going to do anything special this year. No dinner, no date night, no surprise presents. Just a "happy anniversary", and back the grindstone. I was able to sneak out for a much needed manicure/pedicure yesterday afternoon. I've been going to the same place for 9 years. Totally unsolicited, and not knowing it was my anniversary, my manicurist said "Marija remember how nice your nails were before you got married?" WHA?! First of all, I think she might have esp, because they are cash only, and in 9 years, I have never uttered my name to them, one day they just started calling me by it. She goes on to say " You remember, how you used to have such nice nails? Now you have husband and a baby, and now your nails are terrible. Your cuticles are so dry. They are a mess". I laughed and said, we are thinking of having another one this year. To which she said "Ugh, then you'll just come in here and say 'pedicure only please' what's the point". Was that true? Did she really remember a time when I had nice nails? I don't. 

We started shooting the pilot that Nipper and and his writing partners wrote this week. Besides directing it, and shooting it ourselves, we are also acting in it, dressing all the sets, finding the locations, scheduling the actors, and feeding everyone. We have 13 actors, 2 toddlers, a sound guy, and a partridge in a pear tree. Our sound guy got some kind of barfing thing after our 1st day of shooting, so we've had to postpone the rest of our shoot until the middle of next week. Needless to say, it's a been cuckoo. Nipper caught some kind of hacking cough thing from Jack, that Jack caught from Cleo. We're getting about 5 1/2 hours of sleep a night, and are constantly asking each other questions that neither of us can answer.

Nipper Knapp at a cafe in Paris 9 months before Jack was born

Add to all of this our toddler being taken over by some kind of nails on a chalkboard disorder. At 4:50 every morning, for no reason other than his mind has clearly been taken over by evil gnomes, Jack commences whining in the loudest voice he can manage "NOOOOOOOOOOO Daaaadeeeeee! Don't go back to SLEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" Over and over and over, until our ears bleed and we commit our morning ritual of sepuku. There we lay disemboweled, in a pool of our own blood. The continued whining falling on deaf ears is my own private little waking up fantasy. Mother of the year. 


"What's that sweet pea? Oh I'm sorry mommy can't hear you, because Daddy and I got out our samurai swords and killed ourselves while you were carrying on, in there. Now why don't you go make yourself a bowl of cheerios and watch some Curious George while I get this all cleaned up". 


He's also taking to throwing things at our faces, and hitting and kicking us for no particular reason other than apparently to see what we will do, and then no matter how we react; calm reasonable modern parent; exasperated frazzled retro parent, he just laughs at us like we are fools. Then he does something so sweet and adorable that it's reboots our brains, and we forget that he just tried to murder us. Does anyone know an exorcist? Or somewhere else Jack can live until he's 4?

In the pink elevator at Fauchon Paris

Where was I? Oh yeah, working with Nipper Knapp. So far it's been awesome. SO unlike any other "working with a partner" experience I've ever had. He knows exactly what he needs from each scene, but doesn't resort to any sort of Stalinesque tactics to get there. Something I myself am totally guilty of. But I shouldn't be surprised. That's why we got hitched. Because in the midst of everything that is rotten, and hard, and unfair about life, Nipper Knapp is the thing that makes it all worthwhile. My friend Shaboom who has the dreamiest single girl life in Paris ever, wrote me a funny note on FB this morning, saying Happy Anniversary, and did I want to trade lives for a little bit. My hair has gotten weird, and much less girlish, my cuticles are a mess, I can't remember anything from one day to the next, I don't even want to talk about my boobs. But Nipper Knapp acts like I'm the only girl in the world for him. So as much as I daydream of walking along the Seine, drinking wine, carefree and happy, I wouldn't trade the mess that we call Mr and Mrs Nipper Knapp for anything in the world. I live you, you ate my wife... (Nipper's most romantic smart type corrected text to me ever)

Sweat Shop Paris

This shout out goes to all my Paris peeps. Ok my one Paris peep. Shaboom, please go forth and sew! Ces deux boutons mignons, Martena and Sissi, opened up their own little sewing cafe in Paris. It's called Sweat Shop. They have classes, machine rentals, organic tea and treats to eat. I don't know them. I've never met them. But I love them, and I want to spend one day in their shoes. Next time I'm in Paris, I'll be sure to take some fabric. That way I can say "Oh that old thing? I made that one summer in Paris." 

death to foodies!

I had the movie Julie and Julia on in the background when I was sewing the other day, and I was so hungry by the time it was over. But I didn't want just anything. I wanted pan sauteed bruschetta with fresh tomatoes, basil, and garlic. I wanted roast chicken with mixed vegetables. I wanted steak au poivre and frites. I wanted a big glass or meritage and some kale with garlic and lemon. I'm pretty sure I went inside and settled for a mixed green salad and yogurt. I love to eat. I love to cook, but I never have the time or the energy or the will to do it. I don't know why? So many of the things I love to eat are very simple.

I read an article once about a mom who had been a food writer, and food lover. By the time her kids were 8 and 10, she realized there were only 4 or 5 meals that she could make that got no complaints from anyone. She was dying from food boredom. It's so easy to get into a recipe rut. To make the same things over and over that
A. your kids will eat
B. you can also stomach
C don't take more than 15 minutes.

I hate most of this food. Nipper and I have found ourselves deep in the territory of making separate meals for Jack and for ourselves. We are doomed. I don't remember my mother making separate kid meals for us. I'm pretty sure we were expected to eat what they ate? Maybe my memory is fuzzy on this. I do seem to remember a good 10 year period where I ate a peanut butter (NO jelly) sandwich every day, so...

I seem to be surrounded by people who love food. They love to talk about food. They love to look at pictures of food. They love to talk about people who write about food. Most of all they love to cook and eat great food. Me, I love to watch food movies. I miss good food. That's not to say we don't go out and eat well from time to time. I just wish we did more of it at home. I wish I was that mom who had the ability to get everyone to the table all at once, happily eating the same thing.

Here's to that. Keri of My Year Started Tuesday, sent me this link to David Liebovitz's website. The link was sent to her by Shaboom of French Skinny. I have no words for the wealth of incredible recipes all in one place. I love and hate this man. He was a chef at Chez Panisse in Berkeley for forever, and then he moved to Paris in 2002. He also wrote this book, The Sweet Life in Paris, which I think might be next on my bedside table. Because he's California meets Paris he has 10 billion recipes that are right up my alley.  Mesquite chocolate chip cookies? Yes please. Candied bacon ice cream!? I love you! Polenta ice cream (which reminds me of the corn ice cream, I had at Grace one.) YUM! Carnitas? Yes ma'am! Homemade kosher dill pickles? I can die now. He has everything else from sauces and sides to whole meals, and drinks. I don't know if this is someone that Shaboom knows over there and has the good fortune to dine with. But if that's who's food she's eating and losing pound after pound month after month... I'm in.