Anthropology, Ceviche, Torta Di Nocciole And A Prelude To Spring

Obviously, there isn’t any correlation between any of these, except they all played a very enjoyable  part of my weekend.  Just simple pleasures that I pursued for joy.

Springtime in Paris this year has been held back by dense clouds and daily drizzle except for yesterday when the sun finally reappeared enough to warm up the air.

We can’t control the weather, but we are all responsible for bringing into our lives things that bring us happiness.  It is part of taking care of yourself as much as brushing your teeth.

Spring is a time of newness, or greening up as Hildegard of Bingen liked to say.  It is a time where the forces of nature start waking up the sluggishness of winter.

I can feel it in the air, as the trees are swelling with tiny buds ready to open new leaves. Despite the very cold and rainy weeks that made me wonder what happened to spring, nature is pushing forward with speed.

Even my lone grapevine on my balcony has sprouted a few tender ruffled puffs of baby leaves, without much sun for encouragement.  My olive tree has faithfully awoken with myriads of tiny white buds that I hope will turn into olives!

How fitting that I started my weekend Friday by visiting the newly renovated Musée de L’Homme(man).  As inhabitants of planet earth, we certainly have not accomplished much in protecting nature, that we arrogantly try to manipulate and menace at will.

The museum, seen in a wonderful photo taken by someone else,  opened in 1938 and is more of an ethno anthropological display of man’s development and cultural differentiation, rather than just a strict focus on corporal changes from pre Neanderthal to Homo Sapiens.

It occupies a very choice position in the Palais de Chaillot, sharing part of one huge winged side that curves inward like a rib, with the Musée de Marine, another fantastic museum to explore.

This extremely elegant building has been added onto for many years with the center changed in 1937.

Views from the tall windows are all breathtaking as well, overlooking the fountains and the towering Eiffel Tower, hovering in the background.

Some of the more interesting displays were behind glass in dimly lit enclaves, such as many skeletal remains either resurrected or seen in dirt burials plots exactly as they were laid to rest many thousand of years ago. The most poignant was that of Siamese twins.

I did not take many photographs of them because of reflective problems, or perhaps wondering if others would find them as interesting as I did, such as the ancient trepanned skulls.

I most enjoyed the cultural evolution of societies, especially related to languages and day to day life amongst various human cultures. There were loads of hands on interactive displays that I could have spent more time on.

One of my favorites was the huge board of red tongues, each dangling out to be tugged on to hear a specific language. Some were languages that are quickly dying out because they are not being passed generationally.

All were recorded with native speakers, except for Latin; long dead verbally.  Despite their best efforts to put some emotions into their expressions, the two Latin professors came across stilted and not surprisingly very rehearsed.

The chart below offered hearing some of France’s regional dialects that can differ even in the same region, depending on the village.  Many do not know that French was not declared the official  language of this country till the around  1958, but allows some areas to officially retain their regional dialects, like in Brittany and the Basque country.

There are still to this day many who speak Basque, Corsican, Alsatian, Lorraine, Picard, Occitan, Catalan, Breton, Provençal and to a lessor degree Savoyard and Poitevin. Germans can easily understand Lorraine and Alsatian, and Italians in the Piedmont can understand Savoyard.

Photos of an everyday items in the lives of several different cultures were likewise as interesting, especially those of the Sami Tribe of Northern Finland with a slab of dried reindeer, the Gabonese berries and leaf wrapped edibles,and the fancy stamped  breads of Uzbekistan.

I liked the display of leg prosthesis and noted how elaborate and artistic the older ones were in comparison to todays, where functionality can be a priority, especially for athletes.

The most colorful was a bus from Senegal folklorically painted with bright dazzling colours of the rainbow to entice passengers.  The minimal seating inside was drab brown and ragged, designed for maximal stuffing of people like sardines in a can.

The lovely sturdy yurt was fascinating to see close up and how everything revolved around the center stove and teapot.

Saturday, while reading Le Figaro online, the six best ceviches of Paris caught my eye.  By the time I finished, I found myself craving ceviche like never before.

Saturday dinner is always fish night anyway and the thought of taking a break from the kitchen felt more than welcome to this faithful cook.  So,  decided in a split second, it was ceviche!

I must admit that I felt a slight twinge of guilt for not showing up to my fish vendor, which is a ritual at the Saturday morning market.  He sees me often enough, that he notices when I am not there, asking me  where was I; like a school principal trying to catch me playing hooky from class.

I chose a restaurant in the upper Marais, not far from Republique that specialises in Peruvian ceviche.  Named after the popular seacoast town famous for ceviche, it had also been given rave reviews.

I like the fact that their menu was short and basically composed of ceviche; all a good sign for freshness and turnover.  The place was small and very  cosy, with flickering tea candles, which was also a big plus with me, as I do not  eat without candlelight at home.

I started with the marinated octopus with black olives that offered some of the most tender that I have ever tasted.  It was truly sublime!

For the main course, I was easily swayed towards having the raw dark red tuna in leche de tigre, which is the citrus marinade juice, red onions and a smidgen of soy, a Nippon fusion that is very popular with Peruvian locals.

The freshness was immediately evident and the dish was garnished with small bites of sweet potato, manioc, and  with large white corn kernels, resembling hominy, which perfectly balanced the sour saltiness of the dish.

We drank an aromatic white Argentine wine made from the Torrontes grapes, a mountain grape, that somewhat tastes like a dry Muscat.  With a perfume of peaches and citrus it was perfectly refreshing and complimentary to the sourness of the ceviche.

Frankly, I was so enthralled over the octopus and tuna ceviche that I totally forgot to take photos of the dishes till I had consumed them all.

I would definitely go back,  not only for the food, but for the friendliness of the staff and ambiance.  By the time we left, the rain had abated to  tiny small drops that felt refreshing on my face.

Sunday the clouds took a break from filling the sky with greyness and drizzle, allowing the sun to finally breakthrough timidly.  It was definitely time to venture outside to soak up whatever rays we could get.

The Albert Kahn gardens near the Seine in Boulogne Billancourt became our destination for the day.  Boulogne Billancourt is a pleasant suburb of Paris south of the Bois de Boulogne forest on the western side of the city.

Taking out the car  to get there and keep the battery up,  proved to be a bad idea.  Streets were congested because of some blocked off for the Paris marathon, which I really was not interested in attending in light of security concerns.

I wasn’t expecting much colour this time of year, but the huge flowering Japanese cherry trees were a beautiful sight.

No wonder I saw a lot of Japanese expats strolling out, as they keep up where the cherries are blooming around Paris to celebrate Hanami.

The museum was devoted to the life of this wonderful Alsatian philanthropic which had some of the first colour photographs of Paris.  Having grown up in war torn part of France, conceded  to Germany for many years, before returning back to France, he traveled the world and strived towards bringing a peaceful recognition of various cultures of the world. 

There is certainly much to say about the immense generosity of Albert Kahn, a successful banker whose rags to riches story is rich enough for a special post.  He created this magnificent garden and bequeathed it to the public upon his death in 1940.

I will come back here in June when the roses will be in full bloom as well as the many pear and peach trees.  There are many small paths to walk amongst tall blue cedars like found in his native Vosges forest, running brooks and the Japanese village garden is pretty in design.

Happily, there was the magnificently perfumed Mimosa that I found hard to stop sniffing.  In the south of France it is rampant, where in  Bormes les Mimosas there is the annual Mimosa celebration.

We stayed till they were yelling “fermeture” announcing for all to leave.   The only down point was discovering a parking ticket awaiting us on the windshield.

Fortunately I had made another weekend pleasure before I left to the park.  Beside the ceviche, I had developed a longing for a hazelnut cake that is famous in the Piedmont region of Italy called Torta di Nocciole.

When I returned, the apartment still had the redolent odor of dark roasted hazelnuts that gives this cake it’s rich flavour.  All I had to do was adorn my oblong cake with a chocolate hazelnut ganache, likewise made and  left to chill in the frig.  Not the prettiest of glacage as a morceau of hazelnut blocked my pastry tube, which I had to deform in order to finish my decoration.

That was perfectly ok, as I had been in need of some new pastry bags and tips which nowadays, most pastry chefs use plastic disposable.  However convenient, I think I’ll try to find the old fashion reusable bags that I bought many years ago.

The planet is already drowning in too much plastic, prompting Paris to outlaw all thin plastic food bags come July 1, 2016. It is the least that we can do to help our planet earth.

The Nocciole cake was way too delicious to have just one slice and half of it ended up quickly disappearing.  Sometimes my gourmandism, despite my restraints,  gets the best of me.

I hope many of you also took advantage of the many beautiful  surroundings wherever you live.  Each spot on  earth has an abundance of lovely landscapes to explore and celebrate the Spring.

Pleasures are our responsibility that we have to take initiative and not wait for someone to bring them to us.  Joy is waiting to be created for ourselves and others and can be as simple as my delicious hazelnut cake.

By the way, what about you? I would love to hear about your simple pleasures that you  graced your life this weekend! Hugs