Santé!

My dad used to wonder if TGIF would have the same meaning if we didn't have to work. . . . I'd like to carry out this experiment.

But for now, it's TGIF!

Join me before 8 p.m. at the Crystal! Why before 8? Because you get a nice little plate of amuse-gueules along with your drink.

Enjoy!

Life is good. . . .for the cats

Imagine a typical Florida September day. Pushing 100 degrees and 99.9 percent humidity. Given the choice, my cats will lie on the back porch, soaking up the sun.

“Don’t you realize black fur absorbs heat,” I am tempted to say.

They give me that look when I bring them inside. But after a few minutes of a cool tile floor, they seek the warmest places—on top of my clothes in my closet, under my bed or on my duvet, which still needs to be stored.

Our cats develop specific tastes
My cats are connoisseurs. Each day I have to use a specific treat to get them to come back inside from the back screened porch. Of course, I can only live in place that provides a screened porch.

Our cats train us
A friend reported on FB that her cat had gotten stuck on a roof, and she had to use an extension ladder to get him down. Except for my fear of heights, I would have done the same. But as one reader commented, the cat probably laughed about it with all of his friends.

I made an appointment for two cats with the vet the other day. But I arrived with only one. Impossible to get Porsche in the carrier, and my friends, known as the “cat whisperers,” now live in Charlottesville.

Cats at play

They have a sense of humor.

They miss me (or do they?)
I worry they will miss me when I travel. I make sure I have their favorite pet sitter.

I know they miss me when I leave for work. They know the routine--I give them treats and talk to them. I pick up my bags, lock the door. The car pulls out, and the garage door closes.

But the other day when I returned for my coffee, the cats were already on the couch. The remote between them and the TV on. I could have sworn I had turned it off.

How do your cats manage?

Dogs and la vie en France. . . .

“It is sometimes difficult to know who commands in a family—the husband, the wife, the mother-in-law, or the cook. But the dog is never mistaken.” --Marcel Pagnol, French writer known for his stories about Marseille.

Dogs are the sine qua non of French existence (in addition to champagne and chocolate). Some have pedigree, some are mixed breed, but all are happy, welcomed and loved. They jump to attention at a moment’s notice, show unconditional love and never complain. And the French love their dogs—the men might leave their wives in the car or at home while they stop at the café for a drink, but never their dogs.

We can’t say enough good things about our dogs, but cats are pretty cool too. What types of pets do you have?

Ultimate Dining and the Tremblement de Terre

My daughter would not tell me anything about the restaurant—not even tell me the name because she feared I would say, “C’est trop cher!”

We had a table on the upper terrace of Les Pêcheurs—a once-in-a-lifetime experience of a sublime view, food and service. We went early by French standards— 8 p.m. But we wanted to ensure a certain table and to luxuriate over our apéritifs and tapas. We had the terrace to ourselves for a while. Then some Dutch arrived, two men who focused on wine tasting and an elegant couple, who nodded toward the Cap d’Antibes, saying, “We can almost see the children from here.”

Many people waited on us, and I didn’t know their titles. Someone brought a cart of fish on ice, identifying each and explaining how they were cooked. Another reviewed menu items, providing translations.

We savored each morsel because this would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. . . .

The next day, friends asked, “And last night? Did you feel it?”

The Nice Matin (July 8, 2011) described the earthquake of 5.3 that affected the coastline between Marseille and the Italian border with an epicenter located 192 kilometers from the coast. No tsunami, no injuries.

No, we hadn’t felt anything.

That Time of Year . . .

For some, it’s the return from vacation or to the classroom or the start of football season. Orange school buses will be back on the road. Walmart and Target and mall parking lots have been filled with parents hoping to finish shopping for the “must haves,” and kids hoping to negotiate a little extra. When I was growing up, we started school after Labor Day. . . .And we always insisted on something new to wear that first day.

In Gainesville, with the return of nearly 70,000 college-age students (UF and Santa Fe College combined), businesses feel things will go better. On the UF campus, parents and students have been unloading blankets, pillows and electronics from cars, SUVs and UHauls near the dorms. Schedules. Maps. Textbooks. Syllabi . . . .I still remember hoping to get a “good schedule” and feeling so far behind that first week of class.

In France, the great migration north, which began around Aug. 1, picks up again in mid August.. The information campaign--bison futé – has an American Indian as its mascot and uses a series of colors (green, yellow, orange, red, black) to indicate periods to avoid major roads.

Some things will probably never change. The back to school elation and panic that come with the return to the classroom and the major French traffic jams in late summer. But it's all part of experience.

Un café glacé, s’il vous plaît!

Some family members who visited Milan are trying to find the ultimate tiramisu in the States. I am on a quest for the ideal iced coffee in France. In Gainesville, we have iced coffee for all tastes—Maude’s, Starbucks and Panera’s are perhaps the better known shops.

Years ago, I used to get a very good iced coffee at Nice Etoile—an in-town shopping center. Two shots of espresso and some milk, flavored with almond syrup. Today, with the growing coffee awareness among visitors to France, we assumed iced coffee in Cannes would be . . . obvious! But not so. After settling into an outdoor café on one of the side streets, just off of the Rue d’Antibes, we ordered.

--Iced coffee? The waitress seemed perplexed.

--Yes, espresso with sugar and ice cubes. . . .Oh, and cold milk.

After much delay, our coffee arrived. A watered-down espresso accompanied by a pitcher of hot milk.

No amount of sugar brought the coffee to life. The man next to us had ordered a
café latte, but his coffee was black. We handed him our pitcher of hot milk.

Given that the French take pride in their selections of hot coffee, perhaps iced coffee is viewed as something of a travesty. . . . For now, I will stick with café latte, cappuccino or macchiato, which are among my favorites. But come to think of it, it’s difficult (for me) to find the ideal iced coffee in the States. Most are too sweet or too bitter. The solution may be home brewed.

Here's how we make cold-brewed iced coffee. We let ground coffee steep in cold water (an 11-ounce bag with four cups of water) for 12 hours and then filter it (this procedure seems to remove any bitterness). We use about ½ cup of this coffee and add sugar and cold milk to taste. We experiment with flavors—chocolate syrup, caramel, almond. The coffee base keeps about a month in the frig. Enjoy!

A Signature Perfume . . . For Women

I grew up in the aura of Chanel No. 5—that classy glass bottle with distinctive lettering—and the idea that women never changed perfume. Perfume seemed to be the essence of personal branding, part of a signature style, part of our emotional makeup. I have never liked to change perfumes!

But I lingered with Eau de Patou, which remains a favorite, Ma Griffe (Carven), Amazon (Hermès) and Joy (Patou) in its small black bottle with the red top. The price per ounce make me think before using it (as a result, it eventually evaporated or the stopper became too difficult to dislodge).

Then, I shifted to a lighter Trophée (Lancôme), a unisex perfume with a golfball-shaped stopper and bright green box But a decreasing number of perfume stores carried Trophee, and after nearly 20 years of loyalty, I changed. My kids gave me Lacoste for Women, which became a new favorite about seven years ago

But with time, it became more and more difficult to purchase Lacoste in the regular perfume stores. Instead, the shelves were lined with Lacoste Pour Femme. But it was not the same. Even the bottle was different.

Several weeks ago at the Sephora in Cannes, I scanned the shelves of perfume for the elusive bottle. There it was. Lacoste for Women right beside Lacoste Pour Femme. 62 euros. I had to see the bottle to be sure.

“We don’t have a tester,” the salesgirl said. As if I had asked for the impossible. . . .

“I need to make sure it is the frosted bottle, that it is my Lacoste for Women.”

But she stood steadfast, refusing to let me peak under the cellophane and into the box.

A manager appeared.

“Pas de problème. We will just carefully open the packaging from the bottom, slide out the box, et voila.”

It was my bottle! My favorite.

“If it’s not on the shelves, we can always order it for you,” the manager added.

To top it off, with our Sephora cards, we got a 20 percent discount on the purchase. And I can delay the need to seek a new perfume.