Dad's Hot Chicken

Over Christmas I had my dad teach me how to make his famous hot chicken. This is one of those meals that's simple but so familiar to me, it's like tasting Arizona. It's like being at my dad's house and hanging around the kitchen while my brothers wrastle in the living room.

It's basically fried chicken with Red Devil sauce, but since I'm greatly inexperienced at cooking meat items, I paid close attention and took notes. Imagine my delight when he sent me TWO bottles of Red Devil and a handwritten recipe!

I finally gathered the bravery to try it out the other night. I'm not up to "bird de-boning" quite yet, and it was just me and two dude friends so I used simple chicken breasts. I figured I could turn any leftovers into some fab baguette sandwiches.


By the time came to pour on the sauce, my mouth was watering at the familiar smell of the spicy, vinegary sauce.


I was so busy with the chicken that I asked Nico to make the mashed potatoes in our blender. Too much milk made it potato soup, which was actually not too bad to mix up with the chicken on the plate.

Ah, the taste of home. I used a little too much sauce, but otherwise it came out pretty close to Dad's.


As much as I love wine and wine country, this was not a wine kind of meal. I paired it with a blonde Belgian ale, perfect to cool off the hot night and the hot chicken. Adrien said he liked it, and though Nico couldn't stop suggesting ways to improve the sauce (I definitely heard the word "ketchup" and "sucre" in there), every last bite of our six chicken breasts got eaten in short time. No sandwiches this week!


Finally! I conquered a meat-based meal. And now, a new dish to add to my repertoire.

N'Importe Quoi. (Whatever.)

Here's what happens at an "experimental art performance" night in Paris from 4pm-12am.







(note: these final two photos were taken as a sunglasses-wearing Jesus was hoisting a cross into the air while several scantily-clad ladies waved pyrotechnic batons and laughed, while a statuesque lady wearing a brain-hat shot a fake gun into the air.)



I love how that girl looks like she's about to roll her eyes and say "gag me with a purple spoon," or its French equivalent. I'm trying to master that nonchalant, skeptical look, although I feel I've been practicing it my whole life. N'est pas?

Round About 9pm

not too much, yet never enough

Let The Light In

Belle Belleville

I spent some quality time last week in the beautiful Belleville neighborhood.




It was a lovely, sunny day, and all the cool kids were out, hanging in the graffiti'ed, sloped streets of the quarter. If there were no seats outside the bar, they (we) all just sat on the curb.






I cannot get enough of Belleville's vibrant, colorful mess of wall art.


And les beaux françaises.

Pasta À La Jenna

You guys, I'm totally a chef. I even invented a dish - the one you see above. Do you want the recipe? It's incredibly easy to make (obviously, I made it).

Sautée some diced garlic in olive oil while you boil pasta (I used farfalle).
Throw a whole mess of chopped basil and chopped mint into the garlic/olive oil.
Quarter some cherry tomatoes whilst the basil and mint goes all wilty.
Toss the tomatoes into what's now becoming a "sauce."
Put in some salt, pepper and (if you want some spice), red pepper flakes (thanks Mom!) and a squirt of lemon juice to brighten up the flava. Toss toss toss.
Dump the farfalle in and toss, toss, toss, and then throw a generous amount of grated parmesan on and toss, toss, toss.

Sprinkle more on individual plates if desired. Serve with your cheapest bottle of red wine.

Wine With Edith

Musique Partout

What's wrong with coming across a band of several cute musicians playing Walter Murphy's "A Fifth of Beethoven" on the street?


Absolutely nothing.

View From Cité des Arts

Would be nice to have a studio with this view.

Spotted

"be free from time to time"

A Few Reasons Why I Love My Mom

Because we're fashion-psychic.


Because it takes her, like, half an hour of "fitizeling" in the car in the driveway to be ready to drive. Also, because she says things like "fitizeling."


Because she'll drink the Manhattans I make, even if they put her throat on fire.


Not only because she knows how to have fun, be spontanteous and not take herself too seriously, but also because she believes in the kindness of strangers, including police officers, whom she befriends and inspires to escort us away from parades (batons and hats included).


Because she always, always, always has a positive attitude. Because she is one of the most selfless, generous and inspiring people I've ever known. Also because when I say things like "I can't decide if I should go to Switzerland or the UK" she just smiles and says, "Darling, don't ever become insufferable."


Because she is still the person I turn to for advice on everything from love to writing help to how long I should whip the cream before it will become whipped cream. I'm out to show the world how good her advice is.


Because she gave me my good looks.


Honestly, my mom is simply the best. I'm extremely lucky to be my mother's daughter, and luckier still to count her as a friend. I hope she spends this Mother's Day feeling the warmth of love that's traveled half the world from Paris to Arizona to shine on her, and I hope she spends it knowing how grateful my brothers and I are for her, for always.

love,
*jenna*

Ugly/Lovely in Paris

"Neither flat, nor too soft"
"gently sparkling"

Newest Obsession

Ernest Hemingway. (And Corey Stoll.)

"To Dream"

Oh, sunshine! Hello! I almost forgot about you!

Les Beaux Français

They exist.

Lovely Mail

I love receiving letters...


... especially when they match my outfit.