David Lebovitz Newsletter

White Chocolate Sorbet

David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 22:44:01 GMT

Some people say they don’t like white chocolate.

“It’s not chocolate!” are words that are like nails on a chalkboard to me. I like chocolate in all forms: bittersweet, semisweet, unsweetened, milk (which is a lot more lovable if you buy the good stuff), and white chocolate, which I’ll concede they’re right about. White chocolate isn’t technically chocolate, as defined by the FDA. I have no beef (or whatever the chocolate equivalent is) with the FDA, but a lot of people seem to.

Real white chocolate is rich in cocoa butter, which is tasty, luxurious, and not inexpensive, which is why good white chocolate isn’t all that easy to come by. To be sure you’re getting the real deal, check the label; the only fat listed should be cocoa butter, and that’s it. Beware of impostors posing as “white coating” or “white baking chocolate.”

Hearing “I hate white chocolate. It’s not chocolate!” repeatedly, reminds me of when I baked in restaurants, and whenever I carried a dessert to the serving area, someone else in the kitchen would ask, “Hey…do you need someone to taste that?!” or “Is that for me?” with a hearty chuckle of self-satisfaction at their wit—as if I hadn’t heard it hundreds of times before. I heard it at least once a day.

Someone got the hint, finally, when I handed him an entire cake on a platter that I was rushing out to the dining room to serve to waiting customers. I said, “Sure. It’s yours…” and scrambled back to work, while he looked kinda like a dip, holding a fully decorated cake on a cake stand, not knowing what to do with it. (If he had tried to eat it, the waiters, who had customers waiting for their cake, would have descended upon him with a force he’d not seen…whereas I had.)

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There are a few things to hate in this world, but aside from black licorice and green bell peppers, hating an inanimate object is a waste of time. I mean, what did white chocolate ever do to you? No, it’s not “chocolate,” just like what many of us think of as blini are actually closer to, if not the same thing as, oladi. But if someone offered me a platter of what they called buckwheat blini heaped with good caviar, I would certainly not refuse. Actual blini are closer to crêpes.

White chocolate is the perfect pairing partner for a number of things. Dark chocolate is one of them. But its delicate, creamy flavor makes it ripe ’n’ ready to go with fresh raspberries or strawberries or other summer fruits, such as peaches or nectarines, which will soon be here. And as someone who likes tart flavors, I can’t imagine anything better than a tangy plum compote or plum sorbet to go with this sorbet, although blueberries would be a home run.

I hadn’t made this sorbet in years, which I’d originally posted on my blog way back in 2006. It’s adapted from Gale Gand’s book Chocolate & Vanilla, a pastry chef who was one of the first Food Network stars, spending eight years on the network before it evolved to what it is today, which is nearly void of bakers.

Thanks to a redesign of my blog, I’ve been going back through all the recipes and changing the numbering of the recipe steps since the new system automatically adds them, again—so many of the recipes have them twice, so they look like this:

1. 1. Mix the butter and sugar in a mixing bowl.
2. 2. Add eggs.
3. 3. Stir in the vanilla

With 748 recipes, well…if that sounds as fun to you as it does to me, you can understand why I am finding every reason to procrastinate.

Also in 2006, I thought my photos were amazing…

Circa 2006

In 2022, well, not so much. So I’m spiffing up some of the photos and recipes as I go, making things again, and polishing things up.

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Just like white chocolate isn’t really chocolate, technically the word “sorbet” means that it has no dairy in it. So this is really a misnomer, and I should call it sherbet, although that word often conjures up memories of neon-green or rainbow sherbets served at weddings, bar mitzvahs, and events in grey-curtained conference centers. To me, sorbet sounds a little loftier, so I’m going with it here. And since I live in France, no one knows what sherbet is and they (or we) use the word sorbet.

(If you still have a bone to pick with it, you can take it up with the 34 immortels who are entrusted with guarding the sanctity of the French language. Although, if you ask me, their definition of sorbet as a “snowy drink, flavored with liqueur or fruit juice” isn’t quite right. But who am I to argue with those who are immortal?)

But it’s hard to find fault with this dessert, which I served showered with chocolate shards. Even if you’re not old enough to remember ice milk, whose target audience was the diet set, which was popular decades ago, it’s nice to have a frozen dessert that’s less rich than ice cream but every bit as flavorful, no matter how you serve it, why you’re eating it, or what you call it.

White Chocolate Sorbet

About 2 cups (.5l)

Adapted from Chocolate & Vanilla by Gale Gand

The alcohol in the sorbet is optional, but in addition to flavor, it also helps keep the texture of this more scoopable right from the freezer. You can leave it out if you wish. If so, you might want to remove it from the freezer a few minutes before serving.

1 1/2 cups (375ml) whole milk

2/3 cup (160ml) water

1 tablespoon sugar

1 vanilla bean, halved lengthwise (or 1 teaspoon vanilla paste or extract)

8 ounces (225g) white chocolate, chopped

1-2 tablespoons liquor, such as kirsch, gin, white rum, green Chartreuse, clear crème de cacao, or another favorite, added to taste

Prepare an ice bath by putting a medium bowl inside of a larger bowl that’s partially filled with ice and water. Set that aside.

Pour the milk and water into a medium saucepan. Add the sugar and scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean into the milk. (Reserve the pod for another use.) Heat the milk mixture until it’s just about to boil, then remove from heat and add the white chocolate, stirring until the white chocolate is completely melted.

Transfer the mixture to the ice bath and stir occasionally until it’s completely chilled. (If you chill it overnight in the refrigerator, the chocolate will harden on top, which—in my experience—will break up when you churn it. But I prefer to churn it right away.)

Add the liquor to the white chocolate sorbet mixture, if using, and freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

Help! I don’t have an ice cream maker!

I’ve heard that some people rail against single-use machines in their kitchens, but I’m not giving up my coffee maker, and I’m fond of my rice cooker too. The short answer is that an ice cream machine makes the work of churning ice cream easy, and it comes out better. Fortunately, there are great ice cream machines that cost around the same as a pizza with a few toppings and a couple of glasses of wine, if you eat out in a big city, and the ice cream–making attachment for the KitchenAid mixer works very well too. (Just make sure that if you live in the U.S., you get the model meant for America. If you live outside of the U.S., the model is a bit different, so get the one for your particular model and country.) I wrote more about ice cream machines here.

That said, people have been making frozen desserts before the invention of electricity, hauling down ice from Mount Etna in Sicily to churn things up by hand. If you want to make it without a machine, you can check out how to do it here. Because this sorbet doesn’t have a lot of fat, it will freeze somewhat firmly. So before it’s fully frozen, after you’ve stirred it several times, you can whiz it in a food processor to smooth it out and fluff it up a bit before returning it back to the freezer to chill thoroughly before serving.

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Pearl Balls

David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 22:43:01 GMT

When I moved across the Atlantic, I used my blog to write about my experiences in another country. While I wrote about cultural differences, such as the importance (and price!) of keys in France, the value of having exact change, and knowing that when you leave a dinner party, you should be prepared to spend a few hours saying goodbye. I also wrote abou…

February 2022

David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 22:42:01 GMT

There’s no getting around it: January is no one’s favorite month in everyone’s favorite city. (Although I’d like to add some good news here: Next month is spring!)

When I moved to Paris from California, I was surprised to see so many ads for winter vacations, with photos of sunny beaches, people sailing over the Mediterranean on water-skis, and frolicking in the blue surf. They are particularly alluring when you’re bundled up in an Arctically-rated down coat, a scarf, a hat, a mask (or two, when on the métro), and gloves. In San Francisco, they say the only way you know what season it is, is by what’s at the farmers’ market. In Paris, it’s definitely by the travel ads. At least in the winter.

Nope. No one told me Paris was so cold in the winter. So I’ve had to adjust my outfits from California.

When you’re under gray skies and cold weather for a few months, a time that’s even more challenging by a can-we-be-over-this-now-please? pandemic putting a damper on things, seeing a billboard of people roasting in the sun while you roast in your winter-weather duds waiting for the métro, it is nice to mentally imagine yourself in a swimsuit drinking a perfect Margarita…even if you don’t look like one of those models, and even if it’s not going to happen. (In fairness, they often show entire families frolicking on the beach. On the other hand, my father never had abs like that.)

For some reason, people think I travel a lot. “You’re going away—again?!” I read in my comments if I go somewhere. I made a joke a while back in a video that I was wearing an ankle monitor since many were curious about where I happened to be. Someone took it seriously and sent a message to Romain, asking if I was in trouble. No, I’m not. But I haven’t been to a beach in years, which I hope to remedy this summer. And if I do, I’m leaving my ankle bracelet at home.

A vintage travel poster from days of yore, beckoning people to the south of France

Until then, I had a very interesting talk with Adam Roberts on his podcast about the move from blogs to newsletters. Adam was one of the very first food bloggers, starting his blog, the Amateur Gourmet, in 2004. He was probably the first to get a lot of notice, by CNN, which was a huge deal for a blogger back then. It was for his quirky Janet Jackson “fashion faux-pas” cupcakes, modeled after a “fashion fail” during a live television event, which was a big deal at the time. But who can even remember scandals from way back then, let alone the ones from just last week? Yes, that’s where we are now.

We talked about how blogging has shifted in the last few years, and newsletters are taking their places for some of us since they feel like the old days of blogging where you didn’t have to look over your shoulder when writing a post, and just have fun with it. Adam wrote an in-depth and spot-on newsletter, When Food Blogs Became Newsletters. (Possible paywall, but his newsletter is worth subscribing to.)

To quote Adam about the early days of blogging, “You could write about anything!”

That doesn’t seem like a strange phrase, does it? That’s what writers have always done. But for those of us who write and share online (in a place that the founders of Substack referred to recently as the “online Thunderdome”), a blog post that might be controversial or heretical, say…swapping bacon for guanciale in pasta Carbonara, putting sugar in cornbread, beans in chili (which puzzles me because I thought it was a good thing to get less meat and more legumes in our diets?), or cooked vegetables on a salade Niçoise, can bring a maelstrom of the wrong kind of attention. Adam talks about the “avalanche” of disapproval if you get something wrong and how things can heat up quickly.

Personally, I can’t imagine spending my life running around the internet, slapping wrists for putting steamed green beans on a Niçoise salad or breadcrumbs on cassoulet, although my friend Kate in Gascony sometimes sends me a disapproval emoji if I do the latter. As Gaston Lênotre, the father of modern French pastry said, quoted in Bill Buford’s book Dirt, “You can change anything, as long as you make it better.” Merci, chef.

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Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean to be a Wendy Whiner. I love my readers and commenters. I’ve learned so much from them, and many make me laugh (a lot more than make me cry) and 99.999% of everyone I communicate with online is part of a wonderful experience.

Tarte au citron, at Chambelland in Paris (gluten-free too!)

That’s one of the reasons I’ve moved to this Substack newsletter that you’re reading: Because I can write what I want and it’s a better, more thoughtful place to have a discussion. I learned to cook by cooking with—and for—others. I got and gave a lot of feedback, and all of it was helpful, whether I disagreed with it or not. So let’s remember to be more generous with our knowledge.

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One of my all-time favorite comments on my blog came during that time, when we were under strict lockdown and shopping for food was, frankly, terrifying. And no one wanted to let anything go to waste either.

I decided to ramp up my blog during those months when we were all in a daze of not knowing if we needed to wash down bottles of milk, or the cardboard boxes of frozen pizzas that you once turned your nose up at the supermarché, which you put in your shopping cart without a trace of guilt. Okay, I did get shamed for it. But I didn’t care. I learned that adding extra chorizo, extra cheese, olives, and Calabrian chile paste, and baking it 25% longer than the package indicates, can transform a ho-hum pizza into something not-too-bad when you need a break from cooking and washing dishes.

One recipe I posted on my blog, a Mint Zhoug that I made with a precious bunch of fresh mint that wasn’t looking so great and I didn’t want it to go to waste, wasn’t really zhoug at all, but I thought the world was ending, so what the heck?

I don’t know Yael, but if you’re out there, I just want to say: That’s how you leave a comment (even if it’s recycled):

Thanks to Yael, I learned something, and he was so encouraging it made me want to try the authentic version now that the end isn’t as near as we once thought it was, and I can get the right ingredients. Although I’m not quite sure where to get a mazhaga in Paris? 😅

Speaking of blogging, I launched a redesign of my website/blog to bring things up to date. It’s been a few years and the relaunch went off without a hitch, although I need to go back through all the recipes and remove the step numbers, as the newer version of the recipe plug-in automatically adds them, so you might find some of the recipe posts have double numbers. (Okay, there goes my spring vacation…)

While we’re working on that, and dreaming of the beach (rather than sifting through 2,257 blog posts), I hope all is well where you are. The good news is that Spring is coming up next month—in March! We’ve made it this far, folks, we’ve got this…

- David

Links I’m Liking

How to make any baking recipe vegan. (Bon Appétit)

A look inside Alton Brown’s loft. (Atlanta Monthly)

Amazing vintage photos of Paris. (CNN Traveler)

Long-time Paris correspondent Mort Rosenblum wonders, Has Paris Become An Immovable Beast? (The Mort Report)

From the Hard to Swallow Dept: Diners sell coveted restaurant reservations for $1,500 during Omicron. (Eater)

Martha Stewart opens her first restaurant in Paris…Paris, Las Vegas. (Eater Vegas)

Project du jour (or jours): Making choucroute garni to warm up this winter. (Serious Eats)

Is Gruyère still Gruyère if it doesn’t come from Gruyère? The judge’s verdict says ‘Yes’… (NPR)

Some of my tips, as well as tips from Apollonia Poilâne and Rebekah Peppler, for Picnicking in Paris. (PriorWorld)

The perils, and promise (and ethics), of bean-to-bar chocolate. (Vittles)

So…what about Simca Beck, the “Other” French Chef? (Hazlitt)

A French fashion mark leaves a bad taste with locals in Mexico. (Vice)

Sticklers vs. Improvisers, and Following (or not following) Recipes. (Stained Page News)

Would get my ears re-pierced just to wear these Moka pot earrings. (Etsy)

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Q+A with Bryan Pirolli

David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 22:41:01 GMT

I met Bryan Pirolli years ago, and he was part of a trilogy when I was doing “research” for my late (and if I do say, great) Paris Pastry App, which I created with Heather Stimmler of Secrets of Paris. (After compiling and referencing hundreds of pastry shops in Paris, we eventually had to concede to rapidly changing, and challenging, technology and had to discontinue the app.) But what made it fun was Bryan’s involvement.

It’s not easy to go into a Paris bakery or pastry shop and take photos. You need a combination of savvy, familiarity, and chutzpah, and between the three of us—Heather taking notes, me taking notes and photos, and Bryan charming the staff—we did it, although a few times our collective charms didn’t work and we’d take our treats outside the shop, or to a nearby park, to photograph them.

Since then I’ve become friends with Bryan and watched as he went from charming the vendeuses in Paris bakeries to getting his doctorate at the Sorbonne. He’s a travel writer, and wrote a guide to travel writing, and has a tour company, The Gay Locals, for “…all travelers, LGBTQ+ and beyond” to do private tours, exploring the historical significance of arrondissements like the Marais and Montmartre, as well as itinerary planning. He recently penned Paris Like a Local travel guide, an insider’s guide to the city of light.

DL: Hi Bryan. Nice to catch up with you! Can you tell my readers a little bit about yourself?

BP: Oh me? Well, David, I’m from Philadelphia and made it to Paris after college at NYU for a (very lucky) job opportunity, and that’s where we met, of course. I’ve worked as a journalist, a tour guide, and even as a pizza delivery boy in Paris in my younger years, but these days I’m more of a writer and professor, if I had to label myself. I’ve been in New York since the pandemic, but my French connections are still very much intact and I feel like Paris is yanking on me to return. Having obtained a French passport and becoming French has made that easier than ever.

DL: You went to the Sorbonne! What was your major at the Sorbonne and what was your time like at the prestigious university, which of course has a reputation as one of the best universities in the world.

BP: The student days, ah yes… I did my master’s and Ph.D. there, in communication and information sciences. Sounds fancy but I basically focussed on media and journalism. It’s mildly surreal to look back on what I did at the Sorbonne, young and clueless as I was, but giving a small speech at my Ph.D. graduation ceremony, in French, after writing a 300-page thesis, in French, and defending it, in French. It was all very rewarding and memorable. It feels like it was my biggest accomplishment to date.

DL: I don’t know how many Americans go to the Sorbonne, but I imagine that it’s a rather select group, so perhaps just a few? As an American, did you have any funny experiences there? Some people think the French aren’t keen to mingle with Americans, and you were certainly in the thick of French culture there. Were you accepted by the other students and teachers?

BP: Yes, the funny experiences were commonplace. There were many international students there, but not many native English speakers, so I was often in the hot seat when it came to representing the Americas. But the most surreal experience was when I decided to take two semesters of the English requirement instead of opting out, in solidarity with my classmates more than anything else.
In the British English class, I got a 19/20, which is an incredibly high score for even the smartest French students. I was disappointed though. Like come on, I’m a native speaker. But then I took the American English class and the teacher—French—had no choice but to give me a 20/20. I still brag about that grade when talking about the Sorbonne. Not many people get 20/20s there, and when I taught, I never gave such a high score!

DL: That reminds me of when a friend’s teenage son had to take English classes at his French high school. Both his parents were born in America, and native English speakers, as was he; his English (and French) were perfect. But English lessons were required, and he had to start in the beginner’s class. He wasn’t having a great time with it, especially because the Frenchwoman who taught the class spoke terrible English, he said.

For many years you were a tour guide in Paris and wrote travel guides and articles. What was your favorite part of taking people around Paris?

BP: Ah yes, touring was always a delight. I always told clients that I was jealous of them because I could never see Paris for the first time like they were doing, and it’s true. But being a tour guide and playing tourist for the day is as close as you can get. You live in a place like Paris for so long and it’s easy to forget that it’s the place everyone else wants to be, but you’re actually there. I apply that sort of thinking wherever I live now, to avoid taking it for granted that I am living in a place that would make someone somewhere jealous!

DL: And what were some of the challenges?

BP: Some of the challenges were superficial—wrong footwear, people not understanding Parisians don’t all speak French, serving too much wine to clients at lunch. The usual suspects. But for me the real challenge was balancing my Paris with the Paris people wanted to imagine, and landing somewhere in the middle. I never wanted to yuck their yum and make Paris seem like a terrible place—because we know damn well that it’s not—but Parisians, like ourselves, love to complain, and I’d find myself ranting on about the dog poo or the cigarette smoke. That was very much a me problem that I learned to get over early in the game, thankfully.

DL: As mentioned earlier, you helped us with the Paris Pastry App. We eventually had to shut it down as it was hard to manage the technology (including all the updates). In this age of the internet, how are guidebooks relevant and handy?

BP: You know I think I gained five pounds working on that app with all the pastries we ate! But yeah, it’s true, especially during the pandemic, to think about buying or even writing a guidebook. I worked with DK Eyewitness on a new guidebook during the beginning of COVID, and it was really about capturing the local experiences I tried to infuse in my tours. Ya know, the things beyond the obvious sites. Guidebooks still come with that credibility of going through an editorial process and being fact-checked, which TripAdvisor and social media don’t systematically have.
Of course, the internet has lots of great info, but you know exactly what you’re getting when reading a guidebook. When an influencer shouts at you to do something in Paris, what do they really know? It takes more research to dig into their background.

DL: For better or worse, online reviews and websites have become wildly popular, but there is so much information out there that it’s hard to know who to trust and what reviews are on target…and which ones are fake or misleading. What’s the best way to read online reviews, and even more specifically, how should one look for an apartment in Paris if that’s the route they want to take?

BP: Looks like I got ahead of myself! But yes, this is really at the heart of what I researched at the Sorbonne, what I dealt with as a journalist, and what I am seeing now working in destination public relations as a freelancer in New York on the side. There is no one best way. There’s always going to be a leap of faith, but that’s no different than taking a rec from a guidebook, ultimately.
Online we have the luxury, oftentimes, to dig into someone’s past a little bit more. People can see your blog and Instagram and get an idea of what you’re about, and they can gauge your recommendations. “Oh, David likes lots of things in this neighborhood, and I really like David, so maybe I’ll rent an Airbnb in that neighborhood.” A lot of it happens that way.
Guidebooks, at least most of the time, give us the standards, the unwavering must-sees, the postcard travel. Online we can find people like us and see what they are doing and match our tastes, budgets, and travel goals to theirs, letting their alternative recommendations flavor our decisions. So if a 30-something gay man from the U.S. is raving about a gritty low-cost neighborhood in some European city I’ve never been to, I might look for an Airbnb there because I’m a gritty low-cost kinda guy!

DL: A few years back a friend started an app where you could leave comments and reviews on recommended restaurants in cities that you visited, and friends (and others who follow you) could see them, which I thought was a great idea. So say I’m going to Aix-en-Provence or Marseille, and want to know where Bryan Pirolli recommends, I could just go to your page and see where you like to eat. Kind of like Yelp or Trip Advisor, except you know the reviewer. Unfortunately, it didn’t quite work out. (As you know, we learned the difficulties of maintaining an app.) Speaking of renting an apartment, do you think that’s a better option for people than booking a hotel room? Can you let us know some of the differences and why you think one might be better than the other?

BP: For me it comes down to cost and convenience. I never care about amenities or pools or spas or any of that. I’ve never ordered room service. Again, gritty budget traveler here! But by the same token, I never want to feel unsafe or inconvenienced. So in a place where I can navigate the culture or language easily—France, Italy, Germany, etc.—I’ll go for an apartment because I want to make good coffee in the morning or maybe cook to save some money on dining out. I want to play house and pretend like I live there for a bit. If you’re the type of person who wants to indulge in the markets and grocery stories, an apartment is a no-brainer.
In places where I feel less of a cultural or linguistic connection—China, Morocco, Croatia—I go for hotels. In addition to being fairly cheap, they provided me with an extra level of security, access to a front desk worker, for example, who could point me to the right streets for dinner. Luckily for me, when I went to Morocco, I found a hotel (or riad) in Marrakech owned by two gay Frenchmen who took a (platonic) shine to me and ended up showing me these really cool graves outside the city, which I never would have found if I were alone in an apartment. And in these places, I knew nothing about preparing local food, let alone reading the ingredients at the supermarkets, so I didn’t need a kitchen in the first place! If someone visiting Paris feels like I did in Shanghai— totally lost and overwhelmed but excited—go for a hotel and keep things simple.

DL: The time I went to Morocco, I was pretty much followed everywhere by touts, asking (or imploring) me to let them take me to stores to buy carpets or “ancient” coins, etc. They were remarkably persistent. Since I wanted to write about the food, I hired a guide from the official tourism office where I explained what I did, and what kind of guided tour I wanted. He ended up doing the same thing, and would not take “No” for an answer as he tried to lead me into carpet shops. (Where he likely got a commission.) If I ever get up the verve to go back to Morocco, I’m going to do more research and find a reputable culinary guide in advance!

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Getting back to Paris, an FAQ that people ask me is: What neighborhood should I stay in? It’s a tough question because each arrondissement is so different. Some are fancy and filled with upscale shops, where a visitor might feel more comfortable, whereas other neighborhoods are more working-class and you get a slice of everyday life, and perhaps a dose of “realness”…but one that people might not be expecting. How would you answer that?

BP: Yeah, I get this question quite a bit as well and I always say, to limit frustration: Look at a map, identify the points of interest, and stay near them. In Paris, that’s the center of town. Frankly, there’s no real benefit to staying outside the city or in one of the outer arrondissements if travelers are just here for a short time. They are all pleasant and lovely, and the métro is efficient, but I’m a big walker and like to spend my time above ground seeing the architecture and the street life. The métro isn’t necessarily that exciting after the first few rides. Staying in the 16th won’t ruin anyone’s trip to Paris, but, like, why bother?
Now if you’re the type of traveler who wants luxury hotels and will take taxis everywhere no matter what, I should let you know that I get too car sick in Paris to even consider that, but those sorts of travelers already know where they’ll be staying! For the rest of us, stick to the center of the city, on either side of the river, to give yourself the chance to enjoy the city without the extra fuss of getting the métro home at night. There’s nothing worse than having a great dinner with too many bottles of wine, missing the last métro, and wondering how you’ll get home—or, um, so I’ve heard. You don’t need to stay, like, right next to the Louvre or Notre Dame, but anywhere within an hour-long walk from them is more than acceptable. Arrondissements 1 to 6 are safe bets, and I like the 9th, 10th, and 11th as well for something slightly set back from the center but still walkable or with very short transit times.

DL: I agree. I do think some people want to stay in the Marais or St. Germain areas to be close to things, but you’ll be around other visitors (which isn’t a bad thing), but if you want to live like a local, the double-digit arrondissements are where to stay. Personally I like the 9th a lot as it offers quite a bit. On the topic of “realness,” what do you think are some misconceptions people have about Paris?

BP: You’ve got all the usual suspects, and of course everything that we see in movies and films with clichés about them: big smokers and drinking all the time, etc. I think the most interesting misconception I’ve seen bubble up is people thinking Paris is some unsafe, dangerous, racist, and homophobic place. I get where this comes from, especially after the 2015 attacks. Even one of my students in New York asked me that just the other day, saying she was afraid to go to Paris because of her religion. It broke my heart.
I think that things like shootings and hate crimes happen so rarely in Paris that they make news headlines more forcefully, whereas in America, they’re a bit more commonplace, unfortunately. So when it happens in Paris it undercuts the 99.9% of times that the city feels undeniably safer to me than New York or even London.
That’s the media’s fault, and it’s what I always explain to tourists. It’s pretty okay for gay couples to hold hands in most places in Paris, but there’s so much hesitancy because of stories people hear or read. But I feel so much safer across the board in Paris than in any American city for a variety of reasons, and I hope other people experience that when they visit.

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DL: On another note, something for tourists, and the rest of us, that’s been bugging me for a while is, why isn’t there dedicated airport transfer service in Paris?

BP: Well, let’s be fair. There are dedicated and affordable buses to and from both airports. But as far as a dedicated rail system, you kind of know the answer already. It’s Paris. The bureaucracy alone…right? They have been talking about this CDG Express train for the last twenty years, and it almost came to life in 2011, but the modernization of the train lines that already exist and the sheer cost alone were all big obstacles. The city’s transit has grown so much in the past few years that an airport transfer was secondary to servicing the needs of locals. But also remember that CDG is a relatively young airport, built in 1974, nearly thirty years after both Heathrow and JFK. And while Heathrow does have an express train built in 1998, none of New York’s three airports have remotely efficient transportation to Manhattan. Catching one of those express RER B trains from CDG to Gare du Nord or any of its direct airport buses will always be better than taking the A train from JFK, in my opinion!

DL: I’ve taken the OrlyBus and the RoissyBus and you’re right, they do provide dedicated service, although the OrlyBus is fairly out of the way and the RoissyBus is fine (although like the OrlyBus, you have to schlep your luggage on the métro or bus to connect to them unless you’re staying nearby), but traffic on surface roads in and around Paris can be horrendous, and I’ve had a few close calls taking it. An express RER B train would be great, but you’re right—they’ve got some major obstacles.

You have a company called The Gay Locals. Many gay people were drawn to the Marais, which historically was a Jewish quartier in Paris. Why did gay people originally gravitate to that neighborhood too?

BP: Oh David, you’ll just have to come take a tour with me one day! There are lots of reasons, but much of it has to do with gentrification. Yes, the Marais was historically very Jewish, filled with Jewish migrants and descendants of Eastern Europeans who moved to Paris looking for tolerance over the years.
After World War II, that all changed sadly, and the district largely crumbled. But once the Pompidou Centre went up, you started to see an influx of gay men in the ’70s and ’80s carve out their niches as they helped rebuild the Marais and contribute to its gentrification, which meant cheap real estate to work with and, ultimately, cheap drinks at the newly opened bars! If it’s too trendy to live in today, it’s due mostly to the trailblazing gays who made it so attractive to Parisians and so welcoming to people from different walks of life.

DL: I would love a tour! Some people might think you just go to some of the bars or cafés, but is there more to the LGBTQ+ history of Marais than that?

BP: Oh man, there is so much cool gay history in Paris in the Marais and beyond. From the gossip about nearly every monarch being gay to the French Olympian-turned-Nazi lesbian, to one of the most famous trans spies in Europe, it’s just a cascade of characters.
Beyond just the people, the actual geography of Paris helped shape the gay community in so many ways—and vice versa—right down to the public toilets you see today. It’s fascinating stuff if you’re a history buff, and even if you’re not, it gives LGBTQ+ travelers a way to connect with Paris on a personal level. That’s what I tried to drive home in this NYTimes piece that discusses our tours (humble brag). And we’ll take you to a bar as well—someone has to teach visitors how to order properly during happy hours!

DL: You recently wrote a guide Paris Like a Local, with atypical suggestions. Sometimes people tell me they want to go “off the beaten path,” but I’m not sure they want to explore, say, the outer reaches of the 20th or 17th arrondissements. Often people are comfortable in neighborhoods like the Marais, the Île-St. Louis, or St. Germain, where not many locals can afford to live, but admittedly are easy to navigate and much is close by. How did you balance that in the book?

BP: Yeah, I totally get that. Off the beaten path doesn’t really mean anything anymore. Everyone has their own idea of it. What we wanted to do with this book, instead, was offer up places that the other writer and I would take our friends to on a second trip to Paris. They’ve done the Louvre and the Orsay; they’ve walked the Seine. So what now? You know how many little nooks and crannies there are in Paris, David, so we wanted to showcase them, even if they aren’t the most Instagrammable spots or the most famous restaurants. It was almost risky in a way because it runs contrary to what every guidebook I’ve ever worked for has strived to do, but I think the result is really cool. It’s just so much more interesting than your everyday visit because the expectations aren’t built up by the tourism industry or media for these sorts of places. But that’s what a repeat visitor to Paris will want—to be surprised and to feel immersed in something unexpected.

DL: There are walks and adventures for everything in the book, from an arty stroll to discovering haute couture, as well as an up-to-date guide to coffee shops, cocktail joints, and great café terraces. What does an ideal day in Paris look like for you, Bryan?

BP: Well at this point, any day in Paris would be ideal given the past two years! But for me, it’s all about having a pastry along the canal with a cup of coffee in the morning. That’s my favorite start. From there I’ll hop on my bike to ride to the nearest open outdoor market to stock up on some produce, grab a sandwich at the boulangerie for lunch, wander the shops around rue Montorgueil and Les Halles for some cheese and bread, and aim for a picnic dinner and innumerable bottles of wine for an evening along the Seine. Is it a little cliché? You bet, but I’m entirely comfortable with that.

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DL: It’s certainly interesting to see how neighborhoods and streets like the rue Montorgueil and rue de Bretagne have changed in the last few years, with outposts of Ladurée, Poilâne, and Pierre Hermé, popping up on them. You used to have to go to the 6th to visit all those places!

You’ve been dividing your time between Paris and Brooklyn. The two cities are often compared and many French people view Brooklyn as very progressive and international, while Americans are fascinated by Paris and the French lifestyle. Why do you think each culture views the other (and the two cities) with such affection?

BP: I think they both offer what the other knows it can’t, and that’s why the two cultures appreciate the other’s metropolis. Hate on Emily in Paris all people want, but I think you could just as easily make a show called Camille in New York and you’d get the same sort of fish-out-of-water scenario. The cultures just don’t mesh. No two cities of the same caliber share so much and so little at the same time. But that’s the whole point. New York gives me anonymity, energy, and constant change. Paris gives me intimacy, leisure, and consistency. That’s a bold generalization, but you get the idea. We’re not looking for what we know when we travel. We want to go somewhere different. And Paris is probably the most comfortable exotic destination an American can visit, and vice versa for a French person in New York. Being able to have both of them in my life makes me feel like I hit some weird, yet wonderful cultural jackpot.

DL: What are you working on now and what’s next for you?

BP: Well, David, you know this rock will gather no moss. It’s always something with me. This year I’m teaching French classes at Columbia in New York while riding out what hopefully becomes the end of the pandemic. Bring on endemic 2022, instead, please. I also freelance on the side working with a destination PR agency and another gay travel startup.
And in the meantime, I stay sane by writing my little historical novels on the side, which is my real passion. Once grades are in at the end of the semester, we’ll see if I can finally get back to Paris this summer and, again, hopefully, welcome back some visitors on tour through The Gay Locals. Until then, at least I have my secret spot for the best chocolate croissant in all of New York, so I’m in a good place overall!

DL: Thanks, Bryan. I’ll have to pry that address for the best chocolate croissant in New York from you, although we don’t have any shortage of those here in Paris. Last up, would you mind sharing some of your favorite addresses in Paris?

Croissants at Du Pain et des Idées

BP: Sure! Here they are, David…
Utopie: I love their chocolate almond pistachio croissant! (20 Rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud, 75011)
Du Pain et des Idées: It’s probably overhyped, but the chocolate pistachio escargots are still the chef’s kiss. (4 Rue Yves Toudic, 75010)
Le Cambodge: I’ll never not want their bo bun, or their giant spring rolls that don’t fit in your mouth. (10 Ave Richerand, 75010)
Les Philosophes: I always take visitors here, and we geek out on their quiche and salad, which always hits the spot. (28 Rue Vieille du Temple, 75004)
La Caféothèque: When I want good coffee and a chill vibe, I go here, even if just for a take-out to drink along the Seine.

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The Gay Locals: www.thegaylocals.com

Where’s Bryan (website) www.bryanpirolli.com

Fig and Ginger "Clumpy" Granola

David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 22:39:01 GMT

I have my two favorite granola recipes, one with peanut butter and chocolate chips, and another with a base of apples - but may I add a third? Yes? Thanks!

The first one of my favorites, with peanut butter and chocolate chips, is unabashedly a little decadent, a word that I’ve never used to describe food (due to it being overused, and I’m not a fan of anything culpabaliser food.) But even though there are oats, honey, and sunflower seeds, with peanut butter and chocolate in it, it’s not fooling anybody.

That’s okay. I don’t eat a giant bowlful of granola, but sprinkle it over my daily, mid-morning bowl of fruit. First thing in the morning, I’m a coffee and toast guy. But a little later, I go for fruit. Years ago I took a pretty intense step aerobics exercise class in San Francisco, which, because it was at noon, was made up of a bunch of regulars whose work fit “outside of the box,” (i.e.; not 9-to-5) including a flight attendant, a drag performer, a restaurant cook, an airport baggage handler, one of my favorite actresses, someone with a pr firm, and a forthright blonde woman who told us (during sit-ups) about her dates with men that were less-than-successful. And yes, she included details.

Midway through class one day, the instruction, a compact, and very powerful woman (who had the most amazing energy and got us to do whatever she wanted us to do) came around to ask us what we each had for breakfast.

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Most of us offered up things like “uh…coffee,” or (sheepishly) “a half a muffin.” Afterward she went into a diatribe on how we were working very hard (which none of us disagreed with…) and that we needed to fuel ourselves. So I started eating more in the morning, which became a bowl of fruit, granola, and yogurt.

In France, people don’t eat mid-morning, unless they stop at a pastry shop and get a croissant or pain au chocolat, which may be the only thing they eat that morning, until lunch. I’d like to do that too, and sometimes indulge, but since I’ve already had bread for breakfast, I think it’s more prudent to have a bowl of fruit.

Romain’s father, however, was stunned to see me eating a bowl of fruit one morning around 10am. He leaned over, took a look in my bowl, and said “C’est incroyable…” which was against everything he knew and believed in, and is pretty ingrained in French culture: Prescribed mealtimes. I also detected that he would’ve liked some, too.

Sure, you can buy granola, called muesli in French (with no ü), but I don’t mind making it and what I like about making it myself, is that I know what’s going in it. I don’t need tablespoons of cinnamon, a cup of oil, or dehydrated strawberries in mine - and there’s nothing wrong with either - but I like it crunchy, nutty, and with clumps here and there.

I also do make my own candied ginger from time to time, but if I made everything from scratch, I wouldn’t have time to see Romain, dream about eating a croissant as I walk along the Seine, and write this newsletter. So I sometimes do buy things, such as candied ginger, which admittedly, is often better than what you can make at home. Like tinned coconut milk and shredded coconut, they’re from countries that often have better (or riper) ingredients close to where they are made, rather than the coconuts that arrived a month ago at your local Safeway or Marché U.

Years ago I bought some fresh ginger at my local supermarché and the young woman at the cash register looked at the knob I put on the conveyor belt as if I’d laid down a dinosaur bone. Nowadays fruit and vegetables exotiques are much more common (you no longer needed to go to the swanky place in the Place de la Madeleine and pay €23 for a pineapple), and you find items like ginger, physalis, aka: cape gooseberries, and even aloe, at grocery stores in Paris. There’s also a drink called Gimber, which comes with a wallop of fresh ginger, that’s become popular and has quite a kick.

I am also sure the ginger that’s used to make candied ginger in tropical countries involves young ginger, which is more tender and has fewer fibers than the mature fresh ginger most of us have access to at grocery stores. I do buy dried figs, which are available in grocery stores and multicultural food shops, since I don’t have a fig tree - yet. But having a figuier (fig tree) is on my list...

This recipe, which I’ve been making for a few years, comes from Tara O’Brady’s book Seven Spoons. I never personally met Tara but we corresponded back in the day when food bloggers were a small, cohesive group and we all knew (and sometimes talked) to, and about, each other. But only in the nicest ways.

Tara was lovely but we never got a chance to meet, although I suspect that one day we will. I’ve always loved her style and the look of her food, which is fresh, alive, and unscripted, which was new at the time (she started her blog back in 2005) and has since become more à la mode across the internet. She talks about food from a personal point of view, which has a way of making you want to run to the kitchen to make her chocolate chip cookies or infuse your next pot of squash soup with coconut milk and curry. Tara also wrote a thought-provoking essay in Bon Appétit; The Color of My Skin Is Sometimes Confused with the Scope of My Talent talking about the challenges people face cooking inside, or outside, of their cultures.

I think I can confidently say that anyone can, and should, make this granola. It’s loaded with nuts, seeds, dried figs, and candied ginger. I played around with it a bit, but the recipe is easily customizable. If you don’t like or have sunflower seeds or coconut, you could leave them out. I used sesame seeds but you’re welcome to go with chia or flax seeds. And I find honey works as well as maple syrup, although since Tara hails from Canada, you might want to stick with maple syrup, or use a different alternate liquid sweetener, such as agave or sorghum, if another one floats your boat.

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Fig and Ginger Granola

Adapted from Seven Spoons by Tara O’Brady

This is a “hands-on” project, meaning that you will need to get your hands into it. Of course, they should be scrupulously clean, which is easy nowadays…now that we all have hand sanitizer with us at all times. If you like your granola clumpy, when you distribute it onto the baking sheet, squeeze small handfuls of it into clumps, then drop them on the baking sheet.

If using honey, the mixture may not be as clump-friendly as maple syrup, so if you find the mixture a little dry, sprinkle in a few teaspoons of water or olive oil, or maple syrup, until it’s where you’d like it to be.

I used untoasted cashews but you can use another nut, such as walnuts, almonds, hazelnuts or pecans. For those of you who don’t have a food processor for grinding the oats, I think you can do it in batches in a blender. I haven’t tried it but blenders can do wonderful things, too.

4 tablespoons (2 ounces, 55g) butter, salted or unsalted, cubed

3 tablespoons (35g) olive oil

3 tablespoons (75g) maple syrup or honey

1/2 cup (90g) packed light brown sugar

1/2 cup (125ml) water

1 teaspoon flaky sea salt or kosher salt (if using Morton’s or fine table salt, I’d cut that down to 3/4 teaspoon)

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

5 cups (455g) rolled oats (not instant)

1 1/2 cups (200g) nuts, very coarsely chopped (you don’t want them too fine, you kind of want them cut most in halves with maybe a few in thirds in there)

3/4 cup (110g) shredded or flaked coconut, sweetened or unsweetened

1/4 cup (35g) raw sunflower seeds

1/4 cup (35g) sesame seeds

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground dried ginger

1/2 cup (70g) candied ginger, diced

1/2 cup (70g) raw pumpkin seeds

1 cup (5 1/2 ounces, 150g) diced dried figs (hard stems removed)

Preheat the oven to 325ºF (165ºC) and line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a medium saucepan, warm together the butter, olive oil, maple syrup or honey, until the butter is melted. Remove from heat and stir in the brown sugar, water, salt, and vanilla, until the sugar is dissolved.

In a food processor, grind 2 cups (180g) of the oats until they resemble flour. Add the ground oats to a large mixing bowl, along with the remaining rolled oats, nuts, coconut, sunflower and sesame seeds, cinnamon, and dried ginger.

Pour in the melted butter, olive oil, and sugar mixture and stir well. Let rest to hydrate for 10 minutes.

Using your hands, distribute the mixture evenly over the two baking sheets, squeezing small handfuls here and there (see photo in post) of the mixture so that it falls into rough clumps. If the granola isn’t clumping enough you can add a few teaspoons of water, olive oil, or maple syrup, until it holds together reasonably well.

Bake the granola in the oven, check it every 15 minutes and give it a stir, rotating the baking sheets and switching racks, until the granola is evenly golden brown. It’ll take about 40 to 50 minutes, but everyone’s oven is different (unfortunately!) so use your judgment if necessary.

Remove from the oven and mix in the pumpkin seeds. Wait 5 minutes then stir in the candied ginger. When completely cool, mix in the fig pieces.

Store in an airtight container. It’ll last about two weeks.

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My Paris Apartment

David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 22:37:01 GMT

My first apartment in Paris the day I left it after 10 years. All packed and ready to move…

For those of you who’ve been following along, we’ve been on the lookout for a new apartment…

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The hunt begins...?

One thing the pandemic has made us realize is how important it is, and how much we value l’aire fraîche or fresh air. Covid or otherwise, the always-packed Paris café terraces are proof of how much people enjoy being in the great outdoors. Even if the fresh air is mixed with a haze of …

4 years ago · 161 likes · 76 comments · David Lebovitz

For reasons explained there, and here, we saw dozens of places, some wildly overpriced, some in dubious condition. Some we loved but were in neighborhoods too far from whe…

Tangerine Sorbet

David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 22:36:01 GMT

When I lived in California, I geeked out on all the citrus that was available. My favorite reference on the subject was the Ortho Book of Citrus, a “Just the facts, ma’am”…but still very-California/Arizona/New Mexico-style, guide to the various varieties of oranges, grapefruits, pomelos, citrons, lemons, limes, tangerines, bergamots, tangelos, mandarins, clementines, kumquats, limequats, orangequats, mandarinquats, and calamondins that were grown in people’s backyards and at local citrus farms.

(And I also joined the California Rare Fruit Association and at the time, membership included a free watch, which I still have…somewhere…)

Many of the previously mentioned citrus fruits are hybrids; grapefruits are thought to be a cross between pomelos and mandarins (or oranges) and oro blancos and melogolds are a cross between a pomelo and a grapefruit…while others may not be citrus at all, such as kumquats, which resemble citrus but through various background checks, their designation as a citrus fruit doesn’t necessarily hold up.

(As evidence: This scientific article talks about how kumquats resemble citrus, and how they differ. An NPR article also offers, albeit inconclusively, that they’re “either members of the citrus family…or not.” For those who really want to geek out on citrus, the University of California College of Natural and Agricultural Sciences has an extensive Citrus Variety Collection website that documents over 1000 different citrus varieties. Warning: If you’re anything like me, once you start looking at all the citrus varieties, you might find it hard to stop.)

Now that I am done with revealing my obsession with citrus, after my recent diet and subsequent purge…

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Rice, Pasta, and Apple Juice

I am pretty much out of commission for a bit, preparing for a medical procedure. Thanks in part to people like Katie Couric, getting a colonoscopy isn’t something we whisper about anymore. In fact, in the new incarnation of Sex and the City, And Just Like That…

4 years ago · 238 likes · David Lebovitz

…I am back in commission and ready to eat things full of flavor again. (Everything turned out okay and all is well, for those who were following.) And this ultra-flavorful sorbet fits that bill to a “T”…as in T for tangerines, which I can’t get enough of this time of the year.

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Back in California, there were many backyard gardeners who were happy to hand off fruits from their trees when I lived there but malheureusement, the chilly winters in Paris ensure that I won’t have neighbors hoping to surprise me with an overload of tangerines or kumquats or Meyer lemons from their trees. Merde.

Speaking of citrus, I was also in for a surprise when I watched the French Netflix series, The Chef in the Truck, which was shot in Los Angeles (the conceit is that the extremely talented pastry chef and his team from The Ritz hotel in Paris, François Perret, drives a food truck around L.A., serving desserts to all), and the chef and his crew came away from the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market with only a small bag of kumquats, noting there wasn’t much else available. I’ve been to that market a few times and when I’ve visited, I was wowed by the selection of citrus, which included pink lemons and Rangpur limes (which are orange and aren’t actually limes), so they must have gone on an off-day.

The next time I saw Chef Perret in Paris, I offered my services to go with him to the market if he returns for Season 2, to unearth some of the locally-grown fruits the market has to offer. I don’t think there’s room for me in their food truck, but I can’t imagine anything more fun than going to the market with him in California.

(I was hoping he might offer to do the same for me here in Paris, but I think he’s got his hands full being the pastry chef at The Ritz.😉)

As much as I like Chef Perret, and lemon bars, lemon marmalade, and candied grapefruit peels, my favorite way to enjoy citrus is uncooked - cutting the fruits open, juicing them, and letting that juice shine and refresh, as it does in this icy, lively, sunny sorbet.

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I get asked a lot about how to keep homemade ice creams and sorbets from freezing too hard. If you buy ice cream at a shop that scoops it, their freezers (dipping cabinets, in pro lingo) are a warmer temperature than home freezers, so your ice cream won’t be as soft straight out of your home freezer, which isn’t opened and closed as much as the ones in the shops. Speaking of freezer doors, the first time I froze some chocolate brownies I’d baked, I put most of them in the freezer as a strategy to keep me from eating the whole batch all at once. When I discovered how good frozen brownies are, I am sure that I took a few years off the life of my freezer opening and closing the door every fifteen minutes.

I don’t use stabilizers or additives in my ice creams or sorbets to keep them soft, although some folks, like the wonderful Jeni, use tapioca syrup (or corn syrup in her book, which is aimed at home cooks) as well as cream cheese, to reduce the sugar crystals. She and I had a long chat about that after a journalist tried to pit us against each other in a story, which didn’t pan out. We bakers and ice cream-makers stick together, through thick and thin, churned and frozen.

My tips for keeping homemade ice cream and sorbets softer, and serving them, are:

Take the ice cream or sorbet out of the freezer at least 5 minutes before you plan to scoop it. (Some zap it in the microwave, but to me, that’s just a scary place for ice cream.)
Replace some of the sugar (about one-quarter to one-third) with corn or tapioca syrup. Corn syrup got a bad rap over the last few years due to its nefarious cousin, high-fructose corn syrup, which is a completely different thing and best avoided. Check out natural corn syrup if you have any trepidation. (I buy corn syrup at the Korean markets in Paris, shown above.) Corn syrup is sweeter than granulated sugar so use 25% less by weight or volume. Honey, rice syrup, and Golden syrup also work but some have a pronounced flavor that you may not want in your ice cream or sorbet.
Add alcohol. Alcohol, like sugar, inhibits freezing due to its lower freezing temperature. There’s more info on that, and how much you can use, in my post about keeping homemade ice cream soft. But citrus is at least 90% water, so in something like this tangerine sorbet, you’re essentially freezing a lot of water, so I add some spirits to it to keep things smoother. And for flavor, of course. Who doesn’t want more flavor?

Here I used some gin and triple sec. When making this kind of sorbet where you want the fruit to be the star, I don’t overdo it. I add just enough to enhance the flavor and texture, but not enough to make it boozy. You can, of course, leave it out if you’ve got kids or you’re avoiding alcohol.

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People think I gorge on desserts all the time - if only! - but honestly, my favorite types of dessert is a thin wedge of very dark chocolate cake and a scoop of sorbet, or a bowl of fruit with a complimentary flavor of sorbet resting in the middle of it. This one is especially delicious served in a wine glass with a pour of sparkling wine over it if you want to serve something that’s even more on the lighter side, and it’s especially welcome after a rich or filling meal. However, sometimes it’s best to resist overthinking things and just serve it on its own, which is absolutely perfect.

Tangerine Sorbet

Makes about 3 cups (.75l)

I dialed down the sugar a little in this sorbet because the tangerines I started with were quite sweet and delicious. (And because everyone keeps asking me about reducing sugar in recipes. So here, I did it.) But you may want to do some balancing, adding a sprinkle more sugar if you feel it needs it or adding a few drops of lemon juice to tamper any sweetness down as tangerines really vary in flavor.

Because citrus is mostly water, if you don’t add the alcohol, this sorbet may freeze relatively firmly in the freezer so do take it out a few minutes before serving to soften it up before scooping. And feel free to toggle the liquor I used to what you have in your home bar; light rum or vodka can fill in for the gin, and the orange liqueur can be replaced by another complementary flavor, or be left out. If you skip the alcohol, you may want to dial up the sugar to 3/4 cup (150g) or add 1 to 2 tablespoons light corn syrup or another liquid sweetener.

If you don’t have an ice cream maker, you can use this method to freeze the sorbet. If you want it smoother, pulse the almost fully-frozen sorbet in a food processor or with a hand-held immersion blender, to even things out.

3 cups (725ml) freshly squeezed tangerine juice (from about 4 pounds/1.8kg, or about 14 tangerines)

Finely grated zest of 2 tangerines

10 tablespoons (130g) sugar

4 teaspoons gin

2 teaspoons orange liqueur, such as Triple sec, Grand Marnier, or Cointreau

Heat 1/2 cup (125ml) of the tangerine juice with the sugar over low-medium heat, stirring just until the sugar is dissolved. Scrape the mixture into the tangerine juice. Add the tangerine zest, gin, and orange liqueur, if using, and chill thoroughly, preferably overnight.
Churn in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

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Tip: Speaking of scooping, over the years people have asked me what I use to store ice cream in. When I wrote The Perfect Scoop, I purchased stacks of plastic containers at a restaurant supply shop that were fairly inexpensive and fairly sturdy, which wasn’t a very glamorous answer but it was the truth. I washed and reuse them, but recently I invested in a Tavolo Glide-A-Scoop (not a sponsored plug - and I actually bought two), which has been a dream since the long, slender containers let you make nicer scoops. Now I wonder why I waited so long?

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Another private post

David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 22:14:31 GMT

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A private post

David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 22:13:31 GMT

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David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 21:44:31 GMT

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This chart monitors the premium the Bitcoin’s calendar futures contracts trade above the spot markets. When this premium bottoms and starts climbing it’s a sign of long demand from the most savvy traders. Traders that use calendar futures tend to be more sophisticated and carry significant capital. This can be a leading sign the market is about to bottom.

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Macro structure: HODLer buying has soften recently with this month’s price pull back, however long term holders remain in a region of peak accumulation. Structurally we are still in a bullish macro region. Despite bearish price action the underlying structure has no signs of a bear market.
Short term: HODLers have been buying the dip. Coins are moving off the exchanges. Coins held by HODLers have been rising, recovering from recent weakness. Our on-chain Supply Shock valuation model implies BTC is presently trading at a $6k+ discount.
Data from derivative exchanges is showing an uptick in demand, a bullish divergence has formed suggesting the bottom may be in.
BTC price action expectation: Price recovery from lows with further consolidation over the weeks of December.
Price action conviction: Medium.

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Scenario 2: OPEN below 4504. I think this scenario could be bearish one especially if we fail to take out 4504 within the IB period + trade below 4480. IB is the first hour of trade. In this case my target will be 4462. An impulse move may test NFP lows around 4440.

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If that was not enough, there is a lot of news flow and event risk. At this point, a strong NFP is a liability. A weak NFP may be good for stocks but should not be at the cost of sagging wage inflation.
Expecting balance conditions unless a close above or below my 4536 or 4480.

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Gideon's Substack

Requiem For a Liberal Internationalism That Never Really Was

Chamber of the United Nations Security Council…

4 years ago · 7 likes · Noah Millman

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What is this strange sensation? Why does this man think everything will work out? Where is the doom and crushing morosity? How does he live like this?

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The Default

David Lebovitz — Tue, 28 Apr 2026 21:44:31 GMT

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Introduction: The Fairway

David Lebovitz — Mon, 27 Apr 2026 22:44:31 GMT

The greatest story never told.

A public post

David Lebovitz — Mon, 27 Apr 2026 22:44:31 GMT

Discussion thread

David Lebovitz — Sun, 26 Apr 2026 22:44:31 GMT

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David Lebovitz — Wed, 08 Apr 2026 22:53:11 GMT

Grapes are alright i guess.

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David Lebovitz — Tue, 17 Feb 2026 19:27:37 GMT

Grapes are alright i guess.

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David Lebovitz — Sat, 24 Jan 2026 04:02:29 GMT

Grapes are alright i guess.

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David Lebovitz — Tue, 04 Nov 2025 04:29:40 GMT

Grapes are alright i guess.

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David Lebovitz — Fri, 31 Oct 2025 17:28:47 GMT

Grapes are alright i guess.

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David Lebovitz — Wed, 24 Sep 2025 02:18:29 GMT

Grapes are alright i guess.

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The Default

Introduction: The Fairway

A public post

Discussion thread

The taqueria one Fumi Substack Hamish petition Nathan stream Legum petition stream one Substack Jairaj is Chris is petition Nathan stream one sinocism post the Fumi chatner Fumi Fumi stream

Jairaj cancun Iron & Gold altena

Chatner sinocism Jairaj Hamish cancun la Fumi Nathan Chris cool taqueria sinocism is taqueria sinocism Chris Legum la the

La the post cancun dodgy Hamish Hamish cool dodgy Iron & Gold stream shatner is taqueria Hamish the Hamish taqueria post Chris

Dodgy cool sinocism sinocism taqueria Hamish cool Hamish altena one taqueria Substack Bernal taqueria Jairaj cool cool la petition post

Stream a Iron & Gold a la Legum dodgy the shatner sinocism dodgy Bernal is chatner dodgy taqueria post shatner stream a Bernal la is taqueria Nathan taqueria the taqueria Fumi