Trump Towers has nothing on us.  South ‘n France has ventured into the worlds of architecture and real estate.  Chocolate architecture, that is.  And coveted real estate at wedding dessert bars.  Recently, Jennifer of Salt Harbor Design asked us to create Bon Bon Towers for a creative and sophisticated bride with a unique vision for her special day.  To communicate what she was after, Jennifer sent over a mood board, a collection of inspirational photos that illustrate the look and tone the event should convey.

The mood board included a photo of a croquembouche, the traditional French wedding “cake”.  Not a cake at all, the croquembouche, (which comes from the French words croque-en-bouche, meaning ‘crunch in the mouth’) is a conically shaped tower of  cream puffs or profiteroles.  It can be decorated with spun sugar, caramel, or chocolates, flowers and ribbons.  You can also find croquembouches made of macaroons.  In addition to weddings, these show-stopping dessert towers can also be found at baptisms, and first communions.

 A croquembouche can also be referred to as a pièce montée (which means “assembled” or “mounted piece”.  What’s the difference?  Croquembouches are always inteded to be eaten.  Their counterparts, pièces montées, are often are merely decorative.  Although made of edible components (like marizpan, confectioner’s paste and spun sugar), a  pièce montée is meant to serve as a visual centerpiece, a type of food architecture. 

Here are our bon bons towers, which pay homage to the French croquembouche.  I wouldn’t classify them as pièces montées since they were definitely meant to be consumed.  In fact, photographer Millie Holloman assures us that not a single bon bon was left at the end of the night!  Look closely at this photo, and you will see that at least one bon bon has already been removed.

Want your own bon bon tower for an upcoming party?  It takes approximately 120-150 bon bons to create one tower.  Pricing starts at $275.  Call us for more details:  910-762-6882.

I often wish that Paris was "in my backyard", but I don’t think I’d go as far as Gerard Brion to make it happen. Gerard lives in the South of France in a village called Vaissac. He’s spent the past fifteen years creating a model of the City of Lights in his backyard using old cinderblocks, baby food jars, discarded soup cans and other unique materials. Brion occasionally lends small sections of his mini-Paris to a "miniatures" museum in real-life. However, he insists that he created his masterpiece for his personal enjoyment and generally does not open his backyard to the public except for the occasional small group once or twice a week. I wonder if he does a mini fireworks display on Bastille Day? Judging by this nighttime view of Brion’s backyard, I’d bet it would be just as spectacular as the real show on the Champs-Elysee. For more photos of Gerard Brion’s work, check out this slideshow by The Sun in the United Kingdom.

I love La Poste, the French post office. There’s something about the way they handle the art of mailing that’s so much more creative and whimsical than our American equivalent. The color of the French post office is yellow, and all of the mailboxes are painted in this bright, happy color. It makes sense doesn’t it? Getting good snail mail (letters, packages, gifts, cards; not bills!) is one of the happiest things I can think of. I dream of having my own yellow "La Poste" mailbox like this one to hang from our pink house, but seeing as how they are government property, these great-looking mailboxes are difficult to find at flea markets and yard sales.  

In the 15th arrondissement of Paris, near the metro stations Pasteur or Montparnasse-Bienvenue, there is a post office museum, Le Musée de la Poste. It might sound boring, but I love it! The post office museum has an incredible gift shop boutique that’s filled with wonderful greeting cards, stationary, notebooks, wrapping paper, pens, and such that you cannot find anywhere else.  

Just to give you an idea of how cool and creative La Poste is, take a look at the latest stamps to be issued in France. The collection is called "bloc chocolat", or Block of Chocolate. Designed to look like a candy bar, this group of stamps pays homage to the role of chocolate in history. Chocolate has been used as a form of currency, an important part of religious worship in ancient cultures, and as a status symbol by the royal French courts. Today, of course, it is a treat enjoyed by kids of all ages. The best part about these stamps? They’re scratch and sniff! Yes, they actually smell like chocolate!

You can bet that in the coming weeks, I’ll be checking my mailbox daily, hoping for my own snail mail posted with a chocolate stamp!

In a recent post I told you how I came to read French Women Don’t Sleep Alone. Perhaps you might want to know what I actually thought of the book. In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess my initial skepticism. Although I had committed to reading it, I thought that the book wouldn’t apply to me. First, I already know quite a bit about the French. Second, I’m a happily married woman who sleeps double in a king-sized bed (I’d much rather a queen-sized bed… but that’s an entirely different blog entry). What could I possibly learn from French Women Don’t Sleep Alone? Turns out, a lot.

If you sleep alone, if you sleep single in a double bed, if you sleep with others, heck, even if you’re an insomniac, you can (and should) read this book! Because here’s the scoop: that scintillating, provocative title is just the kind of thing this book has to teach you. The reason French women don’t sleep alone is because they know how to be provocative, mysterious, sexy, and downright coquettish. Not only did they invent the term "coquette" (what we call a "flirt" or a "tease"), they make sure that these skills are passed down from generation to generation. That’s how author Jamie Cat Callan got interested in the subject. Jamie’s grandmother was French, and Jamie was intrigued by her seductive and mysterious ways. Jamie set off for Paris, where she interviewed hundreds of French women (and some men) too, so that she could finally crack the code. Here are some of the things Jamie discovered:

French women don’t date; you’ll be surprised at how they meet men!
French women invest in nice, matching lingerie and they wear it every day.  I’ve always envied French women for this and I’ve never been able to pull it off with the same panache. One tip that Jamie gives was a major “"aha!" moment for me. 
French women "seduce" everyone they meet.  Everyone – men (married, single, young, old), other women, babies, dogs. You’ll learn the art of French seduction is very different from what you might think.
French women do "sexy" with very little makeup, a small wardrobe, no diets and limited workouts. So what on earth are they doing? You’d be surprised to learn that it involves book clubs, reading glasses, and eating!

Just like the French women she writes about, Jamie Cat Callan’s book is smart, seductive and full of surprises.  You’ll find recipes, poetry, quotes, beauty tips, funny anecdotes and outrageous suggestions. Want to know how to have firmer breasts? Jamie will tell you the French secret. Want to know the French woman’s equivalent of eating an entire bag of potato chips? You won’t believe it! (And you might just hate them for it… I think I do!)

If this post has piqued your interest about Jamie’s book, it simply means that I did indeed learn a thing or two about how to capture someone’s attention, how to seduce them with an air of intrigue and mystery, and how to – as Jamie says – express my inner French girl! What are you waiting for? Buy this book and no matter whom you do or don’t sleep with, you’ll have more fun everywhere – from the bookstore to the boardroom to the bedroom!

A man who keeps a diary pays,
Due toll to many tedious days;
But life becomes eventful - then,
His busy hand forgets the pen.
-William Allingham (Irish Poet. 1824-1889)

It’s been a month or so since I posted my last blog entry. This blog is the closest I’ve ever come to keeping a regular diary or journal, though there have been quite a few times when I tried mightily. For example, whenever I traveled to Paris as a student, I thought it was my duty to keep a journal. That is what French students do, n’est-ce pas? They while away the hours in Parisian cafés writing down their innermost thoughts while nursing a $6 café au lait. At least that’s what I thought they did when I was 21. I still remember the opening scene of my adventures in Paris quite vividly:

I had just spent a few days in the French countryside with my French family, prior to beginning my grand Parisian adventure. Upon my arrival in France I learned that my luggage had been lost by the airlines, so I was traveling with just an oversized carry-on suitcase. I was taking the TGV train from the Vendée back to Paris where I would officially begin my year at the University of Paris X, also known as Nanterre. For the train ride into the city, I had cobbled together what I thought was a suitably Parisian-chic look from the contents of my carry-on. I wore a black mini-skirt, pleated like the plaid ones private school girls wear, dark black tights, black ballerina flats, and a black turtleneck (it was a bit too warm for a turtleneck, but I didn’t care!). I wore an oversized men’s cream-colored button-down shirt over my turtleneck, tied in a knot at the waist. My ensemble was completed by a hat, a cream-colored felt bowler trimmed in black velvet. The side of the hat sported a large cream-colored silk rose with just a hint of black velvet and tulle peeking out from behind it. As for my accessories? I remember only two. A journal and a French fountain pen.  

Feeling like a mysterious and intriguing foreign traveler, I settled into my seat on the TGV and wrote about my hopes and dreams for the year ahead. Oscar Wilde once said: "I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train." I thought I was doing one better, by writing in my journal on the train! As the year went by, that infamous year of cabarets and dating Pascal and doing more living than I had in my previous twenty years combined, my journal was cast aside. I only made sporadic entries, believing that I was too busy living my grand adventure to take the time to write about it.

There hasn’t been any romantic transatlantic adventure for me lately; these days I’ve just been busy with "stuff". Mostly, the stuff that clutters up one’s routine life – car trouble (not once, not twice, but three times in two weeks!) a leaky pipe in the bathroom, carpet cleaning (it was long overdue!); workouts at the gym (I will get in shape – I will!); work; and a few paltry attempts at having a balanced social life.  Speaking of balance, I guess I’ve been looking for it with my blog as well. This summer, I’m planning on writing in this online "diary" a little less, and living a little more with the hope that just like Oscar Wilde, I’ll have plenty of sensational material for those days when I do blog.