boeuf bourgignon in paris

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byJAY KOS F[ood]ashion Boeuf Bourg gnon in paris Boeuf Bourg gnon in paris #6 | May 2010

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Foodashion #6

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Page 1: Boeuf Bourgignon in Paris

byJAY KOS F[ood]ash•ion

Boeuf Bourg gnon in parisBoeuf Bourg gnon in paris

#6 | May 2010

Page 2: Boeuf Bourgignon in Paris

Boeuf Bourgignon in paris All photographs by Erica Simone

If there’s one dish that I’ve always wanted to learn how to make, it’s boeuf bourgig-non. And so, i went to Paris…

The word on the street is that the boeuf at the typically traditional Parisian restaurant Josephine is monumental like the hot chocolate at Angelina’s on rue de Rivoli. Unfortu-nately for my dinner guests, the cut of choice – the cheek – seems impossible to f ind in New York City. So far, I have hit up three butchers and to no prevail!

My good friend, Marrianne Ladant facilitated the cooking experience at Josephine and let me tell you – it was slightly intimidating. Before my photographer was even ready to shoot, they had already seared one side of the beef, started chopping the carrots and on-ions, and yelling at the pastry chef. One thing I had forgot to bring was a helmet. Luckily, I had my beaver fedora.

It was quite surprising and exciting to f ind out that my single favorite food in the world: chocolate is one of the ingredients, unique to their recipe.

As the sizzling of the pans gave off a party of carnivorous scents, for the f irst time, my raw food regime almost took a backseat. The humor and ease of the French chefs were quite dissimilar to what you would expect from a New York kitch-en: the making of food f lowed like second nature, absolutely no-fuss. However, when it came to the system of preparation, it was almost as if Charles DeGaulle were running the kitchen: highly organized and regimented.

When time came to eat, the chef, taking into consideration my vegetarianism, presented me with a tasting based on a black truff le theme – the artichoke appetizer, ironically known in French as the “entrée,” was incredible. When the chef later returned with a dish of beautifully cooked eggs topped with shavings of black truff le, the res-taurant went into a traditional birthday cheer.

The rest of my time spent in Paris, I biked from chocolate shop to lingerie shop, from restaurants to the few juice bars that existed. Along the way, I stopped through various events, like the opening of Corto Moltado’s (the son of Bottega Venetta) handbag shop and shared a glass of champagne for the arrival of Edward Green on Boulevard St Germain, never ceasing to admire the beauty that this wonderful city has to offer.

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