The Turkeys (trust the mystery)
I'm writing this from my kitchen table with a cup of coffee (thank you, jet lag) and five kinds of French butter in my freezer.
That is a sentence I have been waiting to type for approximately six months.
We went to Paris.
Ten years married. Four grandparents, three aunt/aunties all to watch one Bonnie, more saved points than I knew what to do with (upgraded flights home — yes, obviously), and five days walking 20k+ steps. I couldn't wait until the next regular letter to share it. So here we are: bonus edition, still slightly jet-lagged, fully recovered from the emergency food situation on the train back from Reims.
Full story coming. It involves a cancelled train, a correct amount of bread, and a delay that somehow made everything better.
Inside My Studio
We went to so many museums that I started typing them all out and stopped myself. "So many" covers it.
But here's what stayed with me.
In almost any museum, if there's a Monet, I'm already walking toward it before I know that he painted it. There's something about the way he handles light — bold color that somehow stays soft — that I'm apparently helpless against.
Paris has a lot of Monet. Some quite famous ones.
The one that stopped me cold?
The Turkeys.
Yes. Literally called The Turkeys. Groundbreaking subject matter.
But in almost every way that matters, it was stunning.
Seeing it in books and online absolutely does not compare.
I want to try to recreate it — not to copy it, but to understand how he made the decisions he made. Because there's something about actually doing a thing that teaches you what looking alone can't reach. I've noticed this with architectural drawing for years: when you sit down to draw a building from observation, you start to understand the relationships between the parts in a way that a photograph never gives you.
The turkey painting is going to teach me something.
I'm not sure what yet. But I'm going to find out.
Back in the studio this week, I'm returning to watercolor after five days of looking at everyone else's. My eye feels slightly recalibrated — things I was doing automatically feel worth questioning again. The marble floor and wall patterns at Les Invalides are also living in my head rent-free, and I have a feeling they're going to end up in something.
What I'm Cooking
After a week of not cooking, the first thing I made was this super simple teriyaki beef plate from Pinch of Yum. I looked at the ingredients and thought: this is just teriyaki sauce. So that's all I did — sauce on the beef, quick sear, sushi rice from the Instant Pot, sliced cucumbers and carrots.
It was exactly what I needed. Simple. Fast. Dinner on the table in under twenty minutes after a week of meals that required ordering in French. Sometimes the right answer is Instant Pot rice and something you can cook in one pan.
What's Inspiring Me
The chairs at the Taittinger tasting room.
I spent a meaningful portion of a champagne tasting holding my phone under the table running Google Lens, trying to identify the chairs I was sitting in.
(Still no results. I think they were custom. Of course they were.)
They were the perfect chairs. Beautifully patterned, comfortable in the way that good chairs actually are — the kind of comfortable you only notice because you've sat in so many bad ones. Paired with the coolest end tables, in a room that had clearly been designed by someone who cared about every inch of it.
I genuinely wondered if I had a tape measure in my bag.
If I ever track them down, it'll get its own post.
What I'm Reading
On the plane, I read Ali Hazelwood's latest novella — cute, fun, exactly right for 30,000 feet. Up next is Poison Daughter or Beneath (the prequel to Conform), depending on which one I crack open first and whether the jet lag cooperates.
Coming Up…
One day of Paris at a time: the metro fine, the Egypt wing of the Louvre (a survivor's account), the Orangerie at 9am, the cancelled train that somehow didn't ruin anything, the best meal I've had in recent memory, the copper mold, the butter wall at La Grande Épicerie, and yes — the turkey Monet.
Starting today, I'm dropping a full Paris blog series — one day at a time, exactly what I planned meticulously with my spreadsheet versus what we actually had the energy and French cooperation to accomplish.
Day one is live here → Paris, Day 1 in the Marais
See you tomorrow.
Katie
P.S. — If someone in your life is planning a Paris trip and needs someone with Very Strong Opinions about sandwich shops and champagne cave furniture, forward this their way.
