Dinner at Jim's...friends, flirts, and food!

So with our dinner plans confirmed, Emily and I head out to the metro to make our way to Jim's for dinner. The directions he gives are so detailed, there is virtually no room for error. I mean, he tells you how many steps to take when you exit the metro, how many to take once you hit the traffic light...DETAILED. Love it!

We arrive a few minutes early to find Jim perched on his stool,wearing an apron, with his guest list in hand. He says, "Hello, what's your name?" Gently chastising us for being early, he refuses to shake our hand, but rather bumps elbows. What? Where are we? This is so bohemian, so out there, but so friggin cool. We are in the middle of an ancient building, standing in this kitchen, with this Hemmingway like character.

More people arrive, he barks out introductions like a grandfatherly drill sergeant, and as the room fills, strangers quickly become friends...70 of us in total, from all parts of the world. I am sure there would be some fire code violation in the US, but crammed into this small area, somehow it works.

Soup's on...At 8 pm, the chef of the evening starts dishing out a hearty soup of vegetables pseudo pureed, and topped with creme fraiche. A giant bowl of sliced baguettes are also there to soak it all up. YUM! Elbow-to-elbow, we stand and eat. Now I know why you don't shake hands...you can't, your hands are full, but your elbows still can do the job. This is my theory, at least. I will have to ask him. This is unlike anything I have ever experienced.

Neither is my new friend Claude. Claude is apparently a frequent diner at Jim's, and gives the term flirt all new meaning. Charming, handsome, and a male version of a Cougar, he becomes my new BFF. Now, please know, I was not his only new BFF for the evening, as he was good at working the room. My other new friend Marla (from San Fran and Paris...half a year in each city...hate her!)informed me that he is always hitting on the girls at Jim's dinners. Whatever, he asks me to lunch, and for my phone number so he can show me Paris. Ooh-la-la! I am flattered, and a little amused. Please understand, this is sweet, harmless, innocent fun. All in fun, my friends, all in fun.

Main course is served: meat loaf with mushroom sauce, mashed potatoes, and ratatouille. Works for me! Huge portions, and very nice. Emily is making friends all over the room, too, and I sit back and smile. This is what life is all about. I need to remember this moment when I get so stressed out. This cute French girl comes up to me and says, you are American aren't you? DANG IT! She didn't even hear me speak! Am I really that obvious? Apparently so...she says she can tell because I smile so much. I give her my best demure, somber face, and she laughs, says that's much more French. I don't care. I am genuinely happy!

Ironically the dessert is apple tart and vanilla ice cream. As American as...well, you know.

An absolutely lovely evening. As we are getting ready to leave, I am thanking Jim. I can't leave well enough alone. Does he ever need help cooking? As a matter of fact he does. How long will I be in Paris? Would I like to cook next Sunday, January 2. Ahem...guess who is coming back from Nice to cook dinner for 70 people in Paris? You can't make this stuff up? I feel so unbelievably blessed.

Stay tuned.

Peace and love!
Janice