Poulette in Paris

23 Feb

Bonjour mes amis and welcome!

Throughout this blog, I will endeavour to cook my way through Julia Child’s ‘Mastering the Art of French Cookery’ page 1 through 1000, documenting every feeling I encounter, no matter how frivolous, right here.

Just joking.

I have named myself ‘Poulette’ for a combination of reasons, but whilst on the topic of all things food related, it’s primarily because I just love roast chicken. I really just bloody love it. I love it so much that I could tell you I moved to Paris for the chicken. But that would be lying. (And no one ever embellishes facts in a blog right?)

Secondly (and lets be real – no less importantly) because if you type poulette.com into your browser (go, on), you will find a very explicit warning page from what I have derived is that of an ‘adult’ website. I like that. Kind of makes me feel naughty by association. Hmmmmmmm, though not naughty in a really like dirty faux sexy ‘Hi tiger*, I’m Poulette and I’m really naughty’ way, but more like ‘oh shit! Control Alt Delete quick, I hope my parents don’t catch us playing Leisure Suit Larry on their desktop computer circa 1993’ sort of way.

Thirdly, I am female and I work in fashion and my friend Pauline thinks Poulettes are funky and chic. So there! And yes, in case you are wondering, roast chicken loving and fashion loving is a very awkward combination to manage. I am harnessing my addiction by adding at least half a bottle of mustard to each serve of chicken. A retired couturier once told me that mustard is the key to weight loss, and of course I believe him wholeheartedly and am not a bit interested in the science that may or may not be behind that statement. I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean eat ONLY mustard.

Lastly, I’m Australian. I just realised this doesn’t actually relate in any way to why I so named myself. But I do feel it necessary to highlight the point. I mean, like any French person alive, people will automatically assume that I am either American or English and I feel it necessary to differentiate myself straight up. Not least for all the slightly irrelevant cultural references I may happen to rely on. Sorry.

* Please note in this instance tiger is spelled with a lower case t, which refers to a proper noun and not a person’s name. I am in no way, shape, or form admitting to a liaison with a popular sports figure. Although……


One Response to “Poulette in Paris”


  1. A Taste of Garlic » Poulette - August 20, 2010

    […] in her first post, Poulette in Paris, she says that… “I have named myself ‘Poulette’ for a combination of reasons, but […]

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