This city is the place for me

From the archives...Published in The Northern Echo Tuesday 12th February 2008. View clip here

As I come to pack up my belongings to return to England I am beginning to feel that I have acquired too much baggage – in more than one sense of the word. Primarily, I have accumulated a rather large amount of gifts (naturally, most of them are for me). In working as an intern for Chic Shopping Paris I have frequented many a Parisian boutique, and the purchases are piling up high.

I am also carrying emotional baggage with regards to my departure from this wonderful city. I truly do not want to leave. As I write, it is my penultimate evening in the City of Light. To relieve my angst, today I treated myself to a facial at the Annick Goutal beauty boutique. For only thirty euros I was covered in a cosy pink blanket, cleansed, steamed and massaged with delicious rose-scented products.

Later on in the afternoon I went to the Place des Vosges, a quintessentially Parisian square with perfectly pruned trees and superb symmetry. As I sat looking up at the windows of the house in which Victor Hugo lived and penned Les Miserables, a violinist began playing in the arcades lining the square. It was a moment simultaneously beautiful and terribly poignant, for I know that it is going to be hard to say au revoir.

However, there are certain things that I cannot wait for, things that just aren’t the same here in Paris. It’s true that the culinary choice here is fantastic, but I can’t help but desire a plate of my mum’s home-cooked Sunday dinner. Just around the corner from my apartment is Mariage Frères, a tea shop/salon/museum hybrid established in 1834 boasting over 300 variations of tea - but I would kill for a cup of Tetley.

Despite these homely desires, though, I have learned that Paris is the place for me. I have visited many museums, art galleries and exhibitions, consumed more than my own body weight in top-notch patisserie, peeked in many of the world’s finest designer boutiques, whiled away many afternoons in cafes and have made sure that I have seen as much of the city as possible on foot; fortunately I have just about reached equilibrium on the calories consumed/miles walked scale. But what of my language? Well, I am constantly complimented on my accent, which I have perfected through watching French television and eavesdropping in cafes and restaurants. But the actual grammaticality of what I say, well, it’s not exactly perfect.

I am still a philistine when it comes to wine; my favourite variety has been the 1.79 euro-a- bottle stuff from the supermarket. I’m still not convinced by cheese and I’m never going to take up smoking just to fit in, but still, I want to be here.

For the past two months I have been intoxicated by the City of Light. Intoxicated not only by the numerous cocktails and bottles of champagne, but by the sound of the bells of Notre Dame waking me up every morning, by the dulcet tweets of the birds in the Jardins de St. Eustache, by the accordion players on the Metro and by the city itself, throbbing with passion for food, love and culture.

One Sunday morning I arrived at Café des Phares overlooking the Bastille column for a philosophy discussion, an event which is practised each Sunday at 11am. I arrived a little late so I took my place at the bar with a café crème. All of the tables were taken up by eager students with spectacles perched on the ends of their noses and pens poised over blank notepads; waiting to hear a philosophical dictum that might become their motto for life. The topic was “reality versus truth”. Questions flew back and forth - an elderly woman in a sparkly beret sternly presented her opinion. A woman in a YSL scarf nodded profusely; others waved their arms in the air, desperate to contest.

“Is truth reality? Is reality the truth? What is real?” The Parisians sure are deep thinkers.

The French actress Catherine Deneuve recently said of her beloved city: “There really is a heart to Paris that is absolutely marvellous.” Although the City of Light is renowned for the Eiffel Tower and clichéd scenes of beret-clad lovers, there is a plethora of cobbled side streets and secret parks, wonderful architecture and a cornucopia of dressing-up box boutiques to be discovered.

I’ll be back.  

Ice work if you can get it

Published in The Northern Echo Saturday 16th March 2013. View clips here and here

ONE city, two days, and 17 different flavours: in honour of European Artisanal Gelato day, Catharine Hewitson seeks out the best gelato that Rome has to offer

LAST summer, in an effort to promote gelato and give it the gastronomic recognition it deserves, the European Parliament announced that March 24^th should thereafter be recognised as European Artisanal Gelato Day. With a visit to Rome planned, I took it upon myself to source the Eternal City’s best gelaterie (gelato parlours).

‘Gelato’ translates into English as ‘frozen’ and is typically considered to be the equivalent of ice cream, but is a distinct product in its own right. Whereas ice-cream has a higher cream content, gelato’s recipe is milk-based so it has a lower fat content (meaning you can eat more) and sets at a higher temperature (thus avoiding brain-freeze).

Gelato is served from either a coppa (cup) or cono (cone), although many respected gelaterie shun the latter because they think the flavour and texture interfere with the whole gelato experience. It is also worthy to note that in some parlours where gelato is served, there is a specific ordering protocol: pay for your coppa or cono at the cashier then take your ticket to the gelato counter and exchange it for your frozen goodies.

Across Europe, the gelato industry provides jobs to more than 300,000 workers in an estimated 50,000 parlours. There are hundreds of gelato purveyors in Rome alone - nearly every street has a cafe or bar with a gelato stand, even if only serving a handful of flavours. To narrow down my search, my companion and I focused on four of Rome’s most highly-regarded.

Our first stop was Gelateria del Teatro, in a street where the buildings themselves are painted in ice-cream hues of pink, orange and lemon. 

We tried pear and caramel, ginger, sage and raspberry, coconut, pistachio and ‘Vecchia Roma’ (Old Rome) – an intriguing yet delicious fusion of cheese and cherry (­a three-scoop coppa is 4 euros). Gelateria del Teatro’s flavour combinations are based on seasonal ingredients and the stars of the show are definitely their innovative flavour combinations.

Next was San Crispino, near the famous Trevi Fountain. Widely regarded as producing the best gelato in Rome, we were expecting something a little more impressive but were a little underwhelmed by the narrow, starkly-decorated interior of the tiny shop. While my companion tried a combination of rum, chocolate and liquorice root which got the thumbs-up, I paired basil with honey, San Crispino’s signature flavour (a two-scoop coppa 3.50 euros). It could have been a poor combination choice on my part but the flavours were difficult to distinguish between and I came away a little disappointed.

Giolitti was our next gelato-stop. The Giolitti family have produced gelato since 1900 and the experience at their store is more authentic, with waiters in traditional uniform and wood-panelled cabinets filled with glazed sweets and pastries.

We tried the gelato sorbets in pink grapefruit and Champagne, along with a scoop of pistachio thrown in for good measure (a two-scoop coppa is 2.50 euros). The tartness of the grapefruit and sweetness of the Champagne was a refreshing combination and just the ticket after an indulgent lunch.

Despite feeling like my stomach was about to explode, we headed straight to nearby Ciampini, a bar off the ancient Via del Corso. Ciampini’s flavours are listed on brass plaques on the interior wall and each variety is hidden under a brass carapina. 

This prevents ice crystals from forming and adds to the decadence of the experience as the waiter lifts off each lid to reveal the gelato inside. A two-scoop coppa is 2.50 euros, and we chose pistachio, coffee, coconut and fragoline. Although the variety wasn’t as wide as some of the other gelaterie we had visited, the carefully-chosen flavours were sublime. With full stomachs we were content that we had definitely saved the best gelato until last.