Foursome around Paris

This past Monday the 11th our good friends Stan and Margie stopped in Paris for a couple of days before heading off on a bike trip to Normandy. Unfortunately Susan was in school most of Monday but I was lucky enough to able to catch up with them in the middle of the afternoon, after an early morning arrival in Paris. The good news was that that Susan had the next couple of days off and so we packed a lot of stuff in the short bit of time before Stan and Margie left the city for the wilds of Greater France. (photo: Susan and I in the Jardin du Luxembourg.)

Monday afternoon I met them about 4ish in front of Notre Dame on the Isle de la Cite and the three of us strolled over to the Isle St. Louis, stopping at one of the cafes just opposite the small bridge that connects the two islands, for a light lunch. (The bridge is called, quite unsurprisingly, the Pont St. Louis.) Although the service was more frenetic and jumpy than rude and pushy the goat cheese salads were delicious – the bread was dated but then so were the waiters. Anyway we talked about things of great importance: food and wine, and where to find them in Paris.

Afterwards we strolled down the rue St. Louis en Isle, a touristy but cool place to walk nonetheless, with maybe a half dozen neat little galleries sporting some rather fantastic impressionist sculpture, and of course stopping at a foie gras shop for a tasting. We worked our way back to the Isle de la Cite and I showed them the Holocaust memorial – and since it was 5-year anniversary of 9/11 the security guard at the entrance wanted to look in my backpack (but not Margaret’s) and asked if she had a phone (but didn’t ask me). Why? Because a phone, the guard said, could be used to set off a bomb. . . . And I was the only one who had a phone, but she never asked me. Perfunctory behavior I suspect.

We strolled past the cathedral on the way back to their hotel. I had to get home to meet Susan but the two of us were going to return later that evening and bring dessert to their hotel. Stan and Margie could then turn in and get a good night’s rest before the four of us headed off on our urban trek Tuesday morning.

So Susan and I got to their hotel a bit later than planned, about 8:15 pm or so – she was a half hour late getting out of class – and as we chatted we sampled her practical work for the day, a layered sponge cake with layers of coffee pastry cream and chocolate cream. Deeelicious!

The next morning we met Stan and Margie at about 9ish in front of their hotel on Rue Christine and the four of us headed off on a whirlwind view of “our” Paris, examining several very small threads of this very large tapestry.

We strolled over to the Boulevard St. Germain and then walked up to St. Germain-des-Pres turning south down Rue Bonapartre – check out the exploding sidewalk just opposite the church – walking past the Place St. Sulpice, presently undergoing serious reconstruction.

A few minutes later we came out onto Rue de Vaugirard, which we crossed and then walked into the Jardin du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Gardens), our first major stop for the day. This is certainly one of the highlights of any stop in Paris, particularly in the spring or summer when the flowers are out and so are the people. Indeed, for Susan and I this Jardin – and probably all the gardens in fact – are the epitome of what makes Paris special: the imagination of the artwork scattered around the gardens, the intensity, structure and layout of the flowers and plants and how all of these things are utilized daily and in a matter-of-fact way by the Parisians, indeed by everyone. Just come and watch for yourself, and you’ll see what I mean.

From the gardens we walked across Blvd. Saint Michel and headed for the Pantheon, the resting place for some of France’s greatest and most beloved intellectuals and heroes. The day was simply too nice to be inside so we skirted the Pantheon and headed for the Place de la Contrescarpe. Here, too, one sees yet another part of that Paris so frequently represented in literature or painting: the small green “place” or square, the meeting point of several small streets coming together connecting the community, and all surrounded by tiny cafes, stocked with people chatting, taking a break from the routine of their daily lives – no, in fact this IS a routine of their daily life. The cafes then spread out down the side streets to become restaurants, and shops all surprisingly quiet and yet abuzz with activity nonetheless,. One of our favorite places to be sure. Indeed that’s really what this “urban trek” is all about, showing Stan and Margie our favorite places where one can get about living and not just moving from one attraction to another as if in a huge theme park or Las Vegas.

From the Place de la Contrescarpe we strolled down one of the coolest streets in Paris, the Rue Mouffetard, past the cheese shops, the foie gras shops, the wine shops, the shops selling funky clothes and produce and past the shop roasting meat, chickens and potatoes altogether, past the fresh fish shops. When one imagines living in Paris the “Mouff” comes close to being the archetype of that image.

From the end of the Rue Mouffetard we strolled over to our apartment where, after climbing the five flights of stairs, we relaxed for a bit while Stan and Margie checked their emails and caught up on electronic chores.

From our apartment we walked to the Metro and took the no. 5 to the Place de la Bastille. The Bastille is long gone, having been torn down during the revolution in 1789. The enormous square, jammed with traffic, is today dominated by the “Colonne de Juillet,” a bronze column at the center of the place commemorating the fall of the prison and the collapse of feudalism in France in July (“Juillet”) of 1789. While nothing remains today of any of the pre-revolutionary neighborhood, the ultra-modern Societe Generale bank reportedly sits on the on the very spot where the infamous prison once stood. The Place is also home to Paris’ second opera house, the “Opera Bastille”.

Anyway, after coming out on the wrong exit from the Metro – we wanted to be on the west and we were on the southeast – we inched our way across the enormous Place to the Rue Saint Antoine. We were now on a quest: to find a place to have lunch. The large cafes surrounding the Place appeared less than inviting, busy, noisy and with neervous waiters. We were in search of a more sedate dining atmosphere.

And we soon found it just down a few meters from the Place on Rue Saint Antoine. “Les P’tits Loup” was the ideal place: four tables for four each on the sidewalk lined up against the side of the building. Run by two middle-aged women (whatever that means), one running the inside, the other the outside. The food was delicious, priced well and the service remarkable: friendly, charming and obviously a person who enjoyed dealing with strangers in search of a good meal. This is a solid recommendation for lunch. (photo: l-r, Margie, Stan and Susan, lunch on the Rue Saint Antoine.)

After a leisurely lunch we walked up the Rue Saint Antoine and grabbed the Metro getting off at the Louvre Rivoli stop. We walked up to Dehillerin’s kitchen store at the junction of Rue Coquilliere and Rue J. J. Rousseau to see the funky store which hasn’t changed since Julia Child shopped here in the late 1940s and where many of the local chefs, professional and amateurs alike still come to buy their tools and equipment.

Along the way we had the very Parisian experience of using one of the numerous public toilets. Self-cleaning and Jetson-like these facilities are free and quite easy to use: the red “Hors service” means it is out of service, “the green “Libre” means its good to go (so to speak) and the yellow “Occupie” means just that, or its in the clean mode which is does after each use. Be patient.

We then strolled over to rue Etienne Marcel and headed west toward the Place de la Madeline. Along the way we showed Stan and Margie a couple of the “passages”, remnants of the mostly long gone quaint Paris which was “bulldozed” so to speak during Baron Haussmann’s tenure as Prefect of the city under Napoleon III. These passages were in fact small covered alleyways, or galleries and today often occupied by little shops and cafes, tiny pieces of the city’s history often just out of sight.

Shortly before reaching the Place de la Madeline we stopped at the huge wine store “Lavinia”, on Rue de la Madeline. From there we walked a block or so to the Place and then popped into the Maille (mustard) store. We then walked halfway around the Place to Fauchon’s upscale food shop, enjoying just wandering around so much food. All of which was good prep work for the evening to come.

It was after 5 pm when we walked out of Fauchon’s and decided we would head home, relax and then meet up again at about 8 in front of their hotel. Although Susan and I knew where we were going to eat that evening dinner, we had only heard about this place by word of mouth (no pun intended). It was to be a wonderful surprise for the four of us.

Stay tuned.

"It's nice to meet nice people"

OK it sounds tired and perhaps a bit trite but the very fact of it is when one is traveling long-term, it is nice to meet nice people. And so we were fortunate yesterday. (photo: Lorenzo visiting from Siena.)

As you may recall we missed hooking up with Lorenzo, the bartender/sommelier from Siena who we had gotten to know last year when we lived there. He is in Paris for the first time – staying with a family he had also met while working at Nannini’s in Siena, who live out in the suburbs of Paris. They told him whenever he wanted to come to Paris he could stay with them. And so here he is.

Anyway, we missed him Friday in front of Notre Dame but after an exchange of phone calls we at last connected in front of the Pyramid entrance to the Louvre. We chatted for a bit and then headed in the direction of the Arc de Triomph, with no particular itinerary in mind.

As we strolled through the Tuileries he was agog at the gardens, the statues, the fountains with the kids playing with their rented sailboats, and most of all with the sheer volume of people strolling on a beautiful warm Saturday afternoon in Paris. We crossed the Place de la Concorde and Lorenzo, now pretty much like a kid seeing the Big, Wide world for the first time, was simply awestruck by the Egyptian obelisk set up in the center of the Place. From there we continued our stroll up the Champs Elysses and eventually found ourselves seated at Le Deauville where we a glass of champagne.

We talked (mostly in Italian or what we could muster of Italian), since his English came and went pretty quickly. But hey, he’s just a nice guy.

About 7 pm we left the Champs Elysse and strolled down Avenue Georges V, past the hotel of the same name and of course we had to go in to check it out, and soon discovered it had not connection with the movie “The French Kiss”. We did see one of the s most striking arrangements of hydrangeas though: enormous plants set in glass bowls, raised in a staggered series of pedestals; they were gorgeous and imaginatively arranged.

At Place Alma, where the “unofficial” Diana memorial can be found, oddly enough as part of the replica of the statue of liberty torch, we turned right and headed up Avenue du President Wilson. It is curious that the not only have the French named several of their major streets after US presidents (Rue Lincoln off the Champs Elysses also comes to mind) but one of the major metro stops is called Franklin Roosevelt.

Just past the Palais de Tokio we turned left onto the small rue de la Manutention, characterized mainly by a large set of steps leading down toward the river. It was along this short block that we found the restaurant “Aux Marches du Palais,” where we had arranged to meet Diane from Oregon. She had come across our blog a while back and contacted us to say she was going to be in Paris for a few days and would we like to get together. In fact not only was she going to be in Paris but she had also arranged that very day to do a short course at Le Cordon Bleu as well! Sure, we said. Let’s plan on dinner.

Great, let’s do it.

Then she asked if we wanted to join her for at the Palais de Tokio, along the Seine near the Trocadero, to watch the “Burn Crew” do something with fire (it was unclear exactly from their website). Anyway they were scheduled for 9 pm and so we decided to meet for an early dinner nearby. After a quick look through “The Rough Guide to Paris” we found the “Aux Marches” which came recommended and was right next door to the Palais, and a 5-minute walk to the Metro. What more could you ask!?

So there we were. And within a minute or two there was Diane strolling up from the river. So the four of us sat down at a small table outside and commenced to try and decipher a French-only menu, which by the way, was OK and made for interesting conversation over the next half hour or so as we tried to figure it out in English and help Lorenzo understand it in Italian – and he had the added difficulty of not understanding how it was arranged, since it lacked antipasti, primi, secondi, etc. So the evening started out interesting to be sure.

A quick note about the restaurant. The food was very good but the service, provided by a young Polish girl who was new it seemed to us but who at least spoke a smattering of English (emphasize smattering), was a bit inattentive. We also missed out on the fixed menu that just about every restaurant in Paris has since when we asked our waitress she said no and yet it was on a chalkboard on the wall. And we never received the wine list, which was on another big chalkboard brought to the table. Maybe we had to ask. We did order the “vin rouge du maison” and it was actually just fine, and of course inexpensive. The food was quite good and reasonably priced we thought, although two meals had to go back because they were undercooked. Aside from these glitches one could recommend this place – and particularly if you enjoy a firm grasp of French. Diane had “gambas” (shrimp), Susan had “poulet” (chicken), Lorenzo actually had two starters, fois gras and “champignons” (mushrooms) and I had a small steak (“l’entrecote”) that was superb – aside from being undercooked, the sauce was very tasty and the potatoes (“pommes du terre”) just right.

After paying the bill we strolled over to the Palais, and soon found the “Burn Crew” down on the large open space of the Palais overlooking the river. The Palais is in fact a museum of modern art (it is open until midnight by the way). So the Burn Crew consisted of several guys scattered around the semi-darkened area, flipping and throwing their fire sticks around, one guy blowing petrol or some other sort of flammable liquid onto his fire sticks, all the while in the dark somewhere came the rhythmic beat of bongos or conga drums or some other sort of percussion which added to the party-like atmosphere. Indeed, I felt as if we were attending a rave party or some other gathering of young people out to just have a good, preferably great time.

After sitting and watching this rather randomly produced show we decided to head home. The four of us walked to the Pont Alma where we said arrivederci to Lorenzo as he left to find his RER train back to the suburbs. Diane and Susan and I hopped on the no. 9 metro, and quickly changed to the no. 7. We said goodbye to Diane as she got off at Sully-Morland stop and a few minutes later we left the metro at Censier and five minutes after we were back home.

So we spent a wonderful evening, the four of us, an odd group perhaps: Lorenzo looking for the occasional cigarette and at the stream of women passing by and all the while amazed at how good his food was (he had never had fois gras before), Diane and Susan swapping stores about Le Cordon Bleu and all of us talking about travel, particularly independent travel and how important it is to one’s emotional well-being.

Wish you were here,

Steve

Food notes from the 5th

Saturday morning in Paris and a beautiful morning it is, crisp and clear. The moon is full (or nearly so) and still high in the sky at 7am!

Friday (yesterday) was also absolutely gorgeous. Cool temps, just right for sleeping, with brisk breezes to keep the bright sun from being overbearing and plenty of action in the city. Places that have been closed during the August holidays are now open, and the city seems more alive than ever. (photo: a fromagerie on Rue Mouffetard in the 5th.)


This past Wednesday I browsed through one of our nearby open markets (Place Monge: Weds, Fri and Sun) and vowed to return. The bad news is that food prices are pretty high everywhere in the city – much higher than say even in Florence -- but they seem higher in our neighborhood than others. For example, the “boucherie” (butcher) right across the street from our apartment charges €13 ($17) for a roasted chicken fresh off their outdoor rotisserie (these things are everywhere, usually parked on the sidewalk just outside the shop door), while a similar one just a few blocks over at the lower end of Rue Mouffetard sells the same thing for €10! And of course the open-air markets tend to be a bit less expensive which is why I was scouting out the nearest one, which is in Place Monge. But there’s no guarantee here either. (photo: above, in front of Notre Dame.)

But there’s another place to find great value for food: Chinatown, Little Saigon, Small Bangkok, Diminutive Laos, whatever you want to call it. Just south of us, in the 13th arr. generally in the area between Rue de Tolbiac and rue de Choisy is a vast array of supermarkets and numerous other shops selling all sorts of items catering to the large Asian communities in Paris, sort of their answer to Fauchon and Hediard’s I suppose. Anyway, we hopped on the metro (line 7 and get off at Porte d-Ivry) and 10 minutes later we found ourselves in the Disneyland of Asian condiments. For Asian food aficionados you could spend hours wandering around here – and there are at least half dozen large markets to explore, such as the “Big Store”, which is, well, big. One store in particular had caught our eye in the Rough Guide to Paris, “Tang Freres” (Tang Brothers?), at 48 avenue d’Ivry (open Tues-Sun, 9am-7:30pm). After a half hour wandering the aisles taking in this place we loaded up on rice, half a dozen sauces, black vinegar, sesame oil and a couple of other items, all of which set us back only €20 ($26)! We’re going back to check their meat and fresh vegetable prices – and their Asian produce! Whoa!

We schlepped our bags of goodies home on the metro and jumped on the no. 7 metro, switched to the no. 10 at Jussieu and then got off at Maubert so we could check out the cookbook store, the “Librairie Gourmande”, at 4 on Rue Dante, just off the Blvd St. Germain. If you are looking for cookbooks in Paris this is the place to come. Small and intimate, with very helpful staff this is: “a great little shop/and worth a stop.” (photo: below, in front of Notre Dame.)


From there we walked to the Isle de Cite and Notre Dame where we hoped to meet up with an acquaintance from Siena, Lorenzo. He was visiting Paris and had called us the day before to set up a time and place to meet: 4pm in front of the Big Cathedral. We waited for an hour but Lorenzo never showed up. We just hope he’s OK. It was a beautiful afternoon and it was fun just watching the people – tourists of course. It was interesting to note though that even the locals seemed to use the front of Notre Dame as a convenient meeting spot as well. (photo: below, looking for Lorenzo.)


Anyway we strolled back to the metro and got off the no. 10 at Cardinal Lemoine so we could walk down Rue Mouffetard, one of the funkiest streets we have found in the city so far – and definitely one of our favorites (it helps that our apartment is on one side and the Sorbonne is on the other I suppose). We stopped to have an aperitif at a cool little café on the Place Contrescarpe, just around the corner from where Hemingway and his first wife Hadley lived in the early 1920s, at 74 rue Cardinal Lemoine (although he actually did his writing in a nearby hotel room at 36 Rue Descartes).


We sat and talked and watched this corner of the world go about its business of life. Although it seemed quiet here there was a buzz of activity. It wasn’t nearly as distracting or imposing as we had just witnessed minutes before near Notre Dame where human herds grazed back and forth in front of the cathedral; all eyes tilted upward at a 45 degree angle, hands clasping tiny digital cameras furiously snapping photos of the stone bulk – while at their very feet were the original medieval streets laid out in neat stone patterns, their names carved into the pavement.(photo: bar on Place Contrescarpe.)


After leaving the cafe we strolled down Rue Mouffetard. Along the way we both commented on how many more shops we open now than when we were here some weeks ago. In the space of a just a few short blocks, we counted 4 fromageries (cheese shops), several open-air markets, especially toward the end of the “Mouffe” as we approached Rue Censier. Along here are also some of the coolest women’s clothing shops. Susan is very picky about her clothes and there are two or three that always draw her like a magnet, with their bold colors, funky styles without being gauche (“left”) and great prices. Anyway we’re lucky that this area is so close to our apartment. (photo: a street rotisserie, beef on top, chicken in the middle and potatoes on the very bottom roasting in the juices of the meats!)

Later in the evening Susan made pizza -- our first in Paris actually – topped with “mergez” sausage, roasted chicken, cherry tomatoes and mozzarella (“bocconcini”) from the Italian cheese shop, which is of course across the street, like everything else!

Wish you were here,

Steve

Just desserts

I like the idea of getting my "just desserts" and getting them here, as you can see by the photos below. As part of my Orson Welles Fit n' Fat diet these are what I've been forced to eat this past week:

Passion fruit and respberry tart:



"Jamaique" (Jamaica), a chocolate sponge cake layered with coconut mousse, pineapple, mango passion fruit mousse:



"Frasier" (pronounced FRAY-zee-ay), another sponge cake layered with strawberries and a pastry-butter cream:



Macaron with raspberry cream and fresh berries:



This doesn't include the food I fix -- something I'm thinking of stopping altogether.

Wish you wurp hirp (sorry I had my mouth full),

Steve

Saturday in the suburbs

The past week has been quiet, with sticky days early on, but turning cool and more comfortable by week end. The change was much appreciated but it did give us an idea what a typical August must be like in the city. Susan's school has been OK and her desserts have been fantastic (more of that in a brief follow-on update). I've been exploring some of the smaller, more intimate cemeteries in the historic center of Paris. (You can find out more by clicking here for my blog or to see some of the new images I've posted online just click here). (photo: looking east from La Grande Arche; that's the Arc de Triomph in the far distance.)

Last Saturday (the 2nd) was probably one of the best days we’ve had since moving here. No, we didn’t see anything grandiose or spectacular. In fact we spent a leisurely morning – no school for Susan – and later in the day jumped on the Metro (line 7 to line 1) eventually ending up at “La Defénse” in western Paris.

La Defénse is named not after the French Defense Department or some other such inane military bureaucracy but in fact after the Communards’ heroic defense of the city during the terrible years of 1870-71. Dominated by La Grande Arche (photo below), which was built in 1989 to commemorate the bicentennial of the Revolution, today the area is in fact the very heart of Parisian and French capitalism with corporate offices of some of France's largest companies such as ELF, Total, Gan, and numerous banks all housed in fantastically designed skyscrapers.


The Grande Arche itself is the visual lynchpin for the entire space: it rather reminds one of a vast airplane hangar but without the doors. An even better image would be the old lighter-than-air hangars that used to house dirigibles -- I remember seeing some of the last LTA hangars near Santa Ana, in southern Califnornia many years ago. Huge. The Arche, which houses numerous government ministeries and international businesses, comes with it's own externally mounted glass-enclosed transparent lift shafts which one assumes must make for a very interesting ride to the top (€7.50, daily 10-8) and allegedly the view from the top is spectacular, which I can imagine. We have yet to see the view from the top -- I can't wait. Still, the view from the base alone is worth the trip. With a striking line of sight all the way to the Arc de Triomph and even the Louvre on a clear day. It has to be seen to be appreciated believe me. (photo: La Grande Arche.)


The area also houses the Dôme-Imax, the world’s largest movie theater screen, two enormous shopping complexes, one of which is the Quatre-Temps commercial center, reportedly the largest shopping complex in Europe.

As a counterweight to all that heavy commercialism -- and really it is not as obvious as it may sound -- amidst all of this fantastic design you will find some of the most bizarre and striking outdoor sculpture in the city: a huge "stabile" by Calder, works by Miro and Torricini and several others, all wrapped up in the imagination of a deconstructed architectural plan which baffles and yet amuses at the same time.


We got off at Esplanade du Charles de Gaulle, one short metro stop short of La Defénse, so we could get the full impact of the space as we walked toward La Grande Arche. If you ever get to Paris make this one of your first stops. Lots of food to refuel, lots of space to wander around in and things to buy if you must. But come and see it. (photo: I call this the Calder "Tarantula".)

Although we only had a little while to cruise La Defénse this is definitely on our short list for a return trip.

From La Defènse we jumped on the RER line A1 and headed out to Rueil Malmaison, about a 10-minute train ride into the Paris suburbs. We had been invited out to the home of Anna and Pietro to have dinner with their family. (Anna and Susan met during the basic intensive level at Le Cordon Bleu in August.) After having lunch with them a week or so earlier we knew that they knew an awful lot about Paris, and in particular Paris food, where to find it, how to get it and, most importantly, how to fix it. In fact, Pietro bowled us over by grilling out – and we hadn’t had home cooked grilled food since June at Dick and Dorothy’s and I haven’t grilled since last year!

Naturally we couldn’t turn the down the opportunity to have great home cooked food from these guys so we jumped at the chance. And we weren’t disappointed. Pietro picked us up at the station and in five minutes we were settled into their comfortable home, sipping champagne.

Although the evening was a bit iffy for rain we sat outside for appetizers in their wonderfully private and quiet green space while Pietro grilled: first “mergez”, a type of North African sausage (with just the right amount of cumin), thin, red and delicious. Then came the meat – a beautiful piece of beef that was cooked to perfection.

And for dessert Anna made an Italian cheesecake with mascarpone and cream cheese! Whoa! This was so light you could mistake it for a mousse! And it was worth every kilometer on the train to get there I might add.

What a wonderful evening spent in talking about travel, good food and the wine that goes with it – and lamenting those who have somehow missed that bus. So be it.

We caught a late train back to the city. Pietro dropped us off at the station, said ciao and he left for home. We strolled over to the turnstiles and had a brief moment of panic when we realized our return tickets were not valid for this far out of central Paris. And there was no way to buy tickets: the window was closed and the machines didn’t work (something to bear in mind for the future). The gods were kind to us that evening, though, and one of the turnstiles was ajar just enough to let us squeeze through and we were off on our way home. And mind you it only took us less than 40 minutes to cross the entire city.

What a day – and even better, what a night!

Wish you were here,

Steve