If you're stressed, it's fine dining we suggest!

Last night, we had the best meal of our lives.

Josh and I love food. We bonded over cheap student fare in July 1998 when we met on the Sound of America European tour, we lived a mostly vegetarian/pescatarian lifestyle for the first four years of our relationship as adults, and our only real vacation pre-kids was to a cooking school in Mexico - we love food. But last night, we visited our first Michelin star restaurant, which happens to be just up the hill from our apartment, less than ten minutes by car, in Chamalières, and it blew us away.

So, Michelin stars. Yes, they're awarded by the same company that makes tires, and once you hear why you'll understand why that makes sense: around the turn of the 20th century, Michelin was making bicycle and auto tires and wanted more people to use them, use them up, and buy more. But the roads were unmarked in most of France, and parochial French citizens didn't usually travel much further than they could comfortably walk. So the tire company started planting road signs (with the Michelin logo on them), sponsoring bicycle races, and publishing road maps/road guides. And thus the star rating system was born. 

Every year, Michelin employees who have been secretly assigned to contribute to the Guide are dispatched into thousands of restaurants all over the world. They evaluate everything - the quality of the ingredients, the service, creativity, continuity, and more. The best of the best are awarded one, two, or three stars - one being a huge accomplishment for any chef, and three meaning it would be worth flying into that restaurant's country just to eat a meal there. The United States had 148 starred restaurants in 2016. France had 600.

Josh's colleagues had clued him in to Radio, after learning that we lived in Chamalières, but we were waiting for the perfect menu of the month. November was a winner so off we went. TO THE FOOD!

Before we ordered anything other than champagne, four dishes appeared on the table. 

 They were amuse bouches - little tastes designed to showcase what the chef is working on at the moment, and prepare your palate for the meal itself. Unfortunately my French isn't good enough to tell you exactly what they all were, but I'll do my best.

On the wider plate are two dishes - a little soft slice of bread with ham, a puree I identified as chestnut (but could be mistaken), and a little, perfect taste of fruit - I think lychee. In the white fish-shaped spoons were the most remarkable oysters. They were fresh and raw and formed into perfect domes by some gastronomic magic that didn't at all interfere with their brilliance. On top was a round 'craquante' of some sort, with a tiny piece of red fish, a citrus puree, and the smallest sprig of herbs that I'd ever seen. I love oysters, and this knocked my socks off.

On the thin plate: The red circles are beet chips with a gorgeous, tiny piece of fish on each, a little red puree of some kind, and a tiny slice of fresh beets. The little roll was filled with a creamy yellow butter and tiny green fish eggs. Heaven.

 Next we ordered our meals - the menu of the month, which features two appetizers, a main course, cheese, a palate cleanser, and dessert. But before they could bring any of that, they began a meal-long dance of offering us an incredible sourdough roll every time our bread plates neared emptiness, and they brought yet another set of starters.

These were purees: pumpkin on the left, with chopped peanuts. Mushroom foam in the middle with some kind of crunchy grain. And finally cauliflower, with tiny croutons. It was so good our eyes rolled back in our heads. 

Finally it was time for the meal. Now that our first seven dishes (plus bread) had been consumed. 

This beauty is skate wing - that's the white on the bottom - from Brittany, with olive tapenade and yellow pea puree on top, little cones of what we think were radish or turnip, herbs, and citrus and olive purees as garnish. Josh, who doesn't like fish, loved it and so did I. 

 The second appetizer (and ninth dish, if you're counting) was my favorite. Food of this caliber makes you rethink every meal you've ever eaten before. Did I know what scallops taste like? I didn't know they could taste like this, served seared and almost raw in the middle with grilled leeks, thin slices of apple, individual spinach and cilantro leaves, a fried crispy wonton with some delicious white substance on top that I can't identify. And the extremely capable server who brought it to us then poured a cider jus into the bowls, infusing everything with the concentrated flavor of apple, ginger, and clove.

It was a good thing there was wine. We ordered a 2013 Pomerol, one of Josh's favorite regions, and it was lovely, not too expensive, and necessary to keep us from simply levitating with happiness. 

Ah, the main dish, the 'plat' in French. Just a little pork loin with cabbage. 

No, of course not. It's the tenderest pork loin ever, served on a thin circle of mushroom puree with minced oyster mushrooms on top. At the table another server gingerly added house-made sausage, smoked pork belly, and steamed cabbage to our plates, then a buttery, dark consommé that had us finishing another piece of bread, just to sop it up. By this point we were so relaxed, so happy, so full and so glad we'd saved the time and money to experience this incredible place. 

It was also about then that I couldn't help but notice that the people around us, the tables of one and two and eight, were all wearing jeans and chatting normally, not rolling their eyes back and experiencing enlightenment like we were. This is just a restaurant to them, or to many of them, I suspect, and just a Thursday night. How remarkable. We'll definitely be back, but if it ever feels normal, I trust someone will promptly slap me across the face. This is a special treat.

SO. We were full, as I said, so naturally there were still four courses left! Next is just a little cheese. Monsieur the Waiter appeared not long after the main dish plates were whisked away - along with what had to be our fifth sets of knife and fork, replaced each time with new, pure silver ones in a different pattern - pushing the cheese cart.

It was about this time that Josh exhaled loudly and said "Uncle!" He still managed to eat a little cheese, though. 

 Just a little fromage to choose from! Many of those are local, including all the bleus and the large yellow cheese in the back.

  I chose a young bleu, a Saint Nectaire (our local specialty!), a Gaperon, and on the right is a heavenly, heavily aged Cantal that tasted like a French version of Parmesan. The Gaperon wasn't my favorite, but the others were so delicious, and even the garnish was wonderful. We joked that the dried apricot was so tender and sweet that it must've been prepared this morning by someone who's been drying apricots their whole life, after learning from their father who did the same. Raisin bread accompanied the cheese.

Next was a palate cleanser, a bowl of bitter citrus with a thin sheet of pure sugar on top, lime zest, and three dots of citrus coulis.

 We both seriously doubted our ability to eat anything else at this point. But one soldiers on! So out came dessert. The semicircles are pastry dough, almost exactly like the best pie crust you've ever tasted, covered with perfectly soft and sweet pear pieces, chocolate creations, a canelle of homemade sorbet, and pear compote in the middle. Words cannot describe how perfect it was.

All that's left is coffee. But while the waiter, or maybe a special barista who only makes the coffees, I don't know, made our decaf espressos, yet another wonderful server appeared with yet another wonderful cart. Just choose whatever you like from the lollipops filled with booze and chocolate, candied orange peels dipped in dark chocolate, tiny lemon-meringue pies, cookies, cakes, and truffles. I have never been sadder at the state of my belly than when I realized I could barely try anything.

 Josh chose the orange peels, a chocolate macaron, and a lollipop. I had a lime meringue - I don't even like meringues, but it was fresh and sweet and I loved it - and a white chocolate truffle filled with dark chocolate and Grand Marnier, dusted with silver.

By the time we finished it was three hours since we'd arrived, and we both felt like Alice, having fallen down a rabbit hole and realized that nothing is what we thought it was. The meal was expensive, but for the quality and the experience we'll definitely be saving up to do it again. It's amazing that something as simple as a meal can be so powerful, and so surprising. 

Costco

So. A month ago I went to Costco. 

It's in the middle of a pasture. Apparently most Paris suburbs didn't want the big American megastore around,
so they looked elsewhere.

 (Throughout the post, click to enlarge any picture).

Tires, tires everywhere!

Joining was worth every moment of the wait!

Ahh, familiarity. Even in the john.

 Going to Costco wouldn't be worthy of a mention, much less a blog post, except that there is exactly one Costco in all of France - in all of mainland Europe, as far as I know. Josh turned me on to everyone's favorite big box store in the early 2000s in Massachusetts, and I've been a huge fan ever since.

They have the hot dogs! And the first decent pepperonis I've ever seen in France!

Also fries at the food court AND espresso. Both of which are sorely lacking at U.S. locations.

Costco France launched the same month that we did, July 2017, a fact we both attribute to the Universe being a just and loving place. We shopped at the Greenville location almost weekly during our time there - the produce is fresh and often half the price of other grocery stores, the meat is good quality and affordable, and we used Kirkland brand diapers, wipes, and often clothes for the kids. Josh's mother worked for Costco in Sequim, Washington for much of his childhood and young adult years, including when I met her for the first time. She baked bread, packaged those enormous muffins, frosted cakes - it's a big part of our lives. Knowing that they pay well and generally treat their employees like human beings is a huge reason for my loyalty. That, and the quality is great.

SO. We had planned to go together as a family on the Sunday before my parents arrived in Paris, since we were heading up there to collect them anyway. But, this being France, Costco is closed on Sundays, so instead I decided to drive up and back in a single day, covering 500 miles and about eight hours of driving, not to mention almost 80 Euros in tolls.

I know, I've lost my mind.

But one thing about living overseas is that you miss familiarity. I'm always telling people that everything in France is just a liiiiiittle bit different than back in the States. Not a lot different - in Japan it was a lot different, and I think I learned faster as a result. Here it's a little bit different, so slightly that I pretty regularly find myself holding up a half dozen shoppers at the market because I've forgotten to weigh and sticker my produce. Or, like last week, I pay four Euros so that the car wash can thoroughly scrub NOTHING, the AIR, because I didn't realize that here you pull in first, then get out and pay and reenter your car after the automatic wash is done. Everything is a little bit different.

That's true for Costco too, and I knew it wouldn't be exactly the same. But the prospect of visiting one of my favorite shops, picking up some familiar products and discovering new ones, and eating a perfect hot dog for once, was enough to make me do it. That, and eight hours in the car listening to whatever I damn well please with no one asking for snacks or potty breaks! Josh kept the kids at home.

I've never seen a raclette skillet at a Costco in the U.S., but it wouldn't surprise me.

 So I headed out a little too late, around 9:00 a.m., and had the most beautiful drive through rolling hills. The toll highways are expensive here, but they make life so easy! You pick up a ticket at an entry gate, and pay one large toll at the exit nearest your destination. No coins, no constant stopping, no worries. There are large and relatively clean rest stops every 20 minutes or so, many with bathrooms and restaurants and gas stations. I listened to a podcast about the new Star Trek series, one about making phone calls in French, and much of the Hamilton cast album. It was delightful. Soon I'd arrived, starving, and waited a few minutes to join and get my card. I had a hot dog and fries at the food court and headed in to my happy place. Well, one of them.

Almonds and pistachios that don't cost $35/lb! 

Candy. So much candy.

 It wasn't long before I started seeing American goods! My search for Goldfish crackers was a bust, but I grabbed Pop Tarts and microwave popcorn for some expat buddies. I'm also thrilled to report that Costco France has samples throughout the store, and I tried quite a few goodies. Watching French customers, who are generally unaccustomed to samples, very casually circle the tables, waiting to see how it works, was pretty amusing.

They have the diapers and wipes! Fortunately, the Sullins family is past needing those.

 If you know me, you know I bought a bag of Reese's miniature peanut butter cups for $20. I'm proud to say that over a month later, we haven't quite managed to eat all 3.5 pounds of them.

Hippie baking products

Coffee capsules - but I'm not willing to buy that many without first trying one.

My kitchen is well-stocked already, and yet I'm always tempted by pretty new stainless bowls,
strainers, and pans. I resisted.

Batteries for a good price - expats take note!

They had pet food, but not the kind Charlie eats. Ah well! 

 The seasonal items were particularly enticing. I didn't pick up any Halloween costumes for the kids, but boy did I want to. Christmas was in full swing as well, with candies and decorations and the gorgeous gift tags and wrapping paper I always used back home. October is too early for Christmas, even for me, but I grabbed a pack of the paper anyway. Ho ho ho!

These were adorable. I bought some and brought them to a Halloween party in Clermont - where Lincoln told everyone that I'd made them myself! I set them straight...mostly.

 Next was the bakery! Since I love to bake at home, I haven't ever gotten hooked on the muffins, breads, or desserts here, and I'm definitely not buying Costco pastries in France. Still, seeing them made me smile and think of my mother-in-law, Judy.

 Nor did I pick up any "Real American Super Buns."

Hey hey, sheet cakes! Now I'll know where to go before the next major protest!

 The butcher shop was beautiful, with tons of cuts of beef, pork, and lamb. Unfortunately for me, our refrigerator and freezer are the size of postage stamps, so I couldn't indulge much. Fortunately though, my husband has a smoker and knows how to use it - so those pork ribs did make the journey back to Auvergne and into our bellies!

 Next we come to the truly European products, which again were gorgeous. Mortadella, parmesan, and pasta from Italy. French and Spanish hams. And, oh Nelly, the cheeses.

Tomme is mild and soft and wonderful.

Up top there are mini Camembert rounds, in a container and ready to be melted in the oven and swooned over.

And it wouldn't be a French supermarket without a metric ton of shredded Emmental.

 In the prepared foods section, some greatest hits appeared, like the Caesar salad, mac and cheese, and rotisserie chickens. And there were some new favorites too - quiches, cold lentil salad, and more.

Who wants to store that many Ziploc bags or big red cups in their French apartment?
Well, I do, a little bit. But I didn't get them.

 Again, thanks to the tiny fridge in our apartment, I couldn't really explore the fruits and vegetables section with much purpose. I did see huge boxes of shallots and leeks, beautiful eggplants and zucchini, and pretty decent-looking fruit. It's hard to get excited about those, though, when I have a gorgeous farmer's market one block from my house, three days per week. Not to mention the grocery stores and indoor markets that dot the region.

Bubbles! We're hooked, but I prefer not to fill my whole garage with bottles.

A few more Kirland brand favorites in the laundry section.

 One difference between U.S. and French Costco is the booze. Many of the American stores sell it, but in a separate building or section of the store. In France it's right in next to the vegetables, top shelf liquors alongside more pedestrian ones.

 I was hoping for some good American craft beer, but Budweiser was about all they could offer.

 Oh, but the wine section. It's a damn shame that I'm so ignorant about French wine still - a fact that is slightly less true now, after my parents' visit and my first trip to a wine tasting festival. But I didn't pick anything up at Costco despite the rows and rows of bottles. Next time I'll be better prepared.

 On to frozen and shelf-stable foods! Bag o'snails, anyone?

Anyone?

Beuller*?

I do not know what Lady Chips are, and I didn't buy them to find out. But if you're in need, you can find them at Costco.

Hey look, American food! Probably made with Emmental though.

So great to see this Kirkland version of Nutella! It's made without palm oil, which is terrible for the environment, and it tastes a lot like the original. I made breakfast buns using this as the filling. VISIT ME.

That Kirkland super premium vanilla ice cream would take up my entire freezer. But French versions of vanilla just taste weird to me - if it hadn't have been for the 4 hour drive home, I might have bought it anyway.

 Another big hope was that I'd find Kirkland peanut butter. It's not hard to find natural peanut butter in France, but the taste is sometimes a little odd, and it's about three times as expensive as you'd expect in the U.S. Alas, I found almond butter and Skippy but not the one I wanted. It was great to be able to grab Skippy for some buds in Clermont who miss it, though.

 Cereal! Again, no regular Cheerios - evidently we Americans are the only ones who like our cereal as plain as all that. The Rice Krispies I picked up were not a hit with my munchkins either. I suspect the Unicorn Froot Loops would have been, but I'm the worst so I left those on the shelf.

Hellman's mayonnaise, and not for 9€ a jar! 

 One more aisle had some familiar heroes - Kirkland brand nut snacks.

 My hunt for crackers yielded exactly one result: these three seed sweet potato abominations. Not a Triscuit, Goldfish, or Wheat Thin to be found, alas. The French do not enjoy a cracker.

I bet they'd enjoy this carrot cake, though. As I very nearly did.

Worth it.

 Costco France is a long-ass drive, too expensive to be smart. But the feeling of familiarity, and a trunk packed with peanut butter pretzels, nut bars that aren't 80% sugar, peanuts, ribs, a take and bake pepperoni pizza (which I baked that night because it won't fit in the fridge) (it BARELY fit in the oven), and treats for our friends was absolutely a good use of my Saturday. We're scheming now to take orders and maybe drive someone else's bigger vehicle to stock up for the Clermont Americans, maybe next month or the month after. In the meantime, I'm trying to purchase one new French product per week or try a new dinner recipe. Balancing the familiar and the new - that's the closest I've found to a good plan since we arrived.

*Yes I know the Ferris Beuller reference is almost as old as I am. I'll see myself out.