Thanksgiving in Paris

croquetes-in-barcelona I love Thanksgiving in Paris.

To the French, it’s business as usual, a typical Thursday—and that’s just the way I like it. It’s not that I’m anti-Thanksgiving. I’m not. But my childhood Thanksgivings were, at least in memory, idyllic. It was a time when my whole family—aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmother—came to our house for a feast that made gluttony look amateurish. We played. We frolicked. We ate. A lot.

But I fled Thanksgiving in the U.S. years ago after a progression of disappointing gatherings. Everyone grew up and had families of their own. Our big gathering dwindled down to just the immediate clan. A whole day of festivities shrank down to “just dinner.” C’est la vie.

So Thanksgiving in Paris becomes something far more adventurous to me. I never know what the day will bring. And yesterday was, by far, the most unique Thanksgiving Day I’ve had. I was invited to a wine tasting—at 30,000 feet. How could I say no to that?

Ô-Chateau, a wine tasting company led by the energetic Olivier Magny, took over a Vueling flight (the Jet Blue of Spain). He and his team of sommeliers surprised the flight’s passengers when they began walking up and down the aisles pouring wines from Catalonia as we flew from Paris Orly to Barcelona. All told, they uncorked in the neighborhood of 130 bottles of wine in the ninety minutes it took to fly to our destination.

Those of us lucky enough to be invited on this trip were shuttled to the Hesperia Tower for lunch by the Michelin-rated chef Santi Santamaria. I think there were four courses served, but I lost count as the waiters kept bringing out dishes. We started with Marcona almonds and ended with chocolates and biscuits. In between, we were fed with croquetas with diced Iberico ham, fish, pork and chocolate mousse topped with an oval of vanilla ice cream. And there was wine (of course).

It was a fabulous mix of French, Americans and Spaniards. I spent the day with people like the incomparable David Lebovitz (author and food blogger extraordinaire). I met Susan, a poet who works as a sommelier for Olivier, and learned we share the same astrologer in New York City. I spoke with Cedrik Verdure, a Paris-based journalist and documentarian, and Alfons, the Basque marketing representative for Vueling.

After lunch, we were shuttled back to the airport, where Olivier decided that he wanted to stay in Barcelona and tried to convince the rest of us to stay. He had a 70 percent success rate, but the few of us able to resist his charms boarded the flight back to Paris. (I would have stayed if I didn’t have dinner plans and an early meeting.)

You’ll find a full feature on Olivier and Ô-Chateau on Parisien Salon within the next few weeks. But, trust me—you truly need to experience Olivier in person.

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