Dining in Paris
Jul. 16th, 2001 02:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lillibetWe're speeding across Paris toward the Chunnel and I thought I'd go ahead
and get this written while it's all still fresh in my mind. Those of you
who don't find the detailed descriptions of meals fascinating may want to
skim more than usual. It was Paris, after all.
We had a slight detour getting to Waterloo on Thursday morning, since there
were track problems on the Jubilee line and we had to backtrack to the
Bakerloo line. One thing I like about the Underground system is that while
there are problems all the time and connections or even stations closed,
there is enough redundancy in the system that it's usually possible to find
a workaround.
We did make it on time and found our seats on the Eurostar train. The
biggest event of our trip was a trip to the loo, when I ran into Jackie
Chan, the Hong Kong action star of movies like Drunken Master, Supercop and
Rush Hour. He looked very good and really just like he does in his movies.
I sent Jason up to the First Class section to get a look at him, but he was
asleep in his seat by the time Jason passed. We did see him getting off the
train in Paris, putting on his mirrored shades, despite the rain. Otherwise
our trip was uneventful and we were entertained by the lovely little French
girl across the aisle, though she did get rambunctious whenever her mother
got on her mobile phone. We were in the Club section, which is like
business class, I guess. They came through and gave us breakfast of juice,
tea/coffee, breads with butter and jam, and a choice of a hot plate
(sausage, omelette, potatoes--my pick) or cold (sliced turkey and
cheese--Jason's choice). We were surprised that nowhere along the outbound
trip did anyone ask to see our passports or control our entry in any way.
Rain was a big part of our first three days. We were well equipped with
ponchos and umbrellas, but it was still somewhat of a hassle and dimmed the
beauty of the city.
We took the Metro from Gare du Nord down to St. Michel, on the Left Bank,
and walked from there to the Hotel St. Andre des Arts
(http://www.123france.com/europe/france/paris/hotels/hosandus.htm) which was
down a very funky, mostly pedestrian street of shops, restaurants and bars.
Our room, up a tiny staircase behind the registration desk, was small and
plain, but quaint, with exposed beams across the ceiling and in the walls.
The bathroom was very large, with a nice deep tub and a window into the
central airshaft of the building, as well as a good-sized closet. The
shower was not excellent...the taps were on the side, but the hook for the
showerhead was at the end, so the angle of the hose pinched off the water
supply unless one was very careful. The window of our room looked out onto
the street, but was sufficiently glazed to block out the noise quite well
when we wanted. We enjoyed several pre-dinner naps while listening to the
people passing below.
Having checked in, we got a couple of grilled pannini with ham and cheese
and ate them as we wandered across the Seine to the Ile de la Cite and the
Palace of Justice. We skipped the Conciergerie, where Marie Antoinette was
imprisoned, and visited the 13th century Sainte-Chapelle. With its walls
constructed almost entirely of stained glass and reflective glass, metal
and semi-precious stones used in the decorations of what is not actually
window, the entire upper chapel sparkles like the jewel box of a queen.
From there we walked over to Notre Dame. It has been cleaned recently and
is a lovely buttery color, rather than the grey it is in my memory. It was
pouring again and the floor of the entryway was covered in water, but it
dried out as we moved along the aisles. We went into the Treasury exhibit
to see a few of the chasubles, chalices, reliquaries and hymnbooks of the
church's collection. A favorite piece was a crown consisting of some 16
angels, their gold and lapis wings stretching back to form the struts, with
a ball of lapis supporting the cross on top. The rose windows, while
lacking the brilliancy of a sunny day, were beautiful in their complexity
and color. I was much amused by someone using the PA system to say
"Shhhhhhhhhhhh! Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Shhhhhhhhh!" It would have been nice to
have more silence, but people seemed to pay little heed to the request.
Leaving the sanctuary, we decided the cloud cover was too heavy to justify
climbing the tower. Instead we walked around the building along the Seine
to admire the flying buttresses and the spire.
As I unpacked, I had realized that pantyhose were not among the things in
my suitcase. Since we had the time, we wandered over to Marks &
Spencer--glad their Paris store had not been closed down like so many of
their continental stores--and found what I needed. From there we walked
back to the hotel and had a lovely nap before dinner.
I had made reservations at Guy Savoy, based on a recommendation in Fodor's,
who have yet to steer me wrong. Located on a side street north of the Arc
de Triomphe, it's an easy place to miss, with its sliding door looking
like a wall of wood and glass. Inside is a secluded, modern dining room
with lots of wood and metal. While lovely, it felt somewhat sterile to me,
like the executive dining room of a very high end law firm.
The meal that followed was just incredible, characterized by bold
combinations of flavors used to create remarkably subtle overall effects.
We began with a glass of champagne. First we were handed an amuse bouche of
a small crostini with a slice of duck liver pate. That was followed by a
bite of a watermelon and radish confection. Then we were brought a plate
with one bite each of a lovely marinated and grilled tuna, a skewer of
tomato and squid, and a tiny bowl of carrot soup with star anise. Neither
of us generally enjoy anise, but the flavors combined so perfectly that we
were both quite impressed. Somewhere amid all this showing off by the chef,
we got to order. We declined the E170 tasting menu and went a la carte
instead. Jason ordered the grilled mussels with morel mushrooms in a light
butter sauce and I asked for the house specialty of cream of artichoke soup
with shaved black truffles and parmesan cheese with a mushroom-stuffed
brioche with truffle butter on the side. We were therefore surprised when
our waiter brought two portions of the mussels. I explained the mistake and
he apologized, left the mussels with us and brought us each a half portion
of the soup as our next course. With our first courses, we were enjoying
the sommelier's recommendation of a half bottle of Meursault, a white
varietal unfamiliar to us, but destined to become quite a favorite. With
our mains, we split another half bottle, this one of Bordeaux. I was
starting to write down the names when the sommelier offered us the labels,
which he brought us in a Guy Savoy souvenir folder that we will add to our
memorabilia to remind us of a fabulous gustatory experience. For mains,
Jason had a lovely roast lamb, carved tableside, over greens with tiny hunks
of bacon, with a cheesy spinach and mushroom side dish. Mine was pigeon,
poached to keep in the juices and then grilled to crisp the skin, served
with pureed peas and spinach and drizzled with a sherry vinaigrette. On the
side I was brought the pigeon gizzards in a napoleon (layers) of beet chips.
After those were cleared away and we declined the cheese course, they
brought us a plate of petit fours, including a sliver of chocolate with a
square of gelatin topped with currant, a berry meringue filled with berry
mousse, a vanilla pastry shell filled with something creamy, and a candied
fruit (one of those things that looks like a tomatillo, but is sweet--or so
other people tell me; I find them so sour they send shivers down my spine,
although that reaction was mitigated by the caramelized sugar coating this
one), each one bite-sized. They also handed us a small caramel crisp
encrusted with macadamia nuts and pink praline. For dessert (no, that
wasn't dessert, apparently) we split a millefeuille, layers of puff pastry
filled with a vanilla cream, with just a few strawberries, currants and
raspberries on the side. We declined coffee, protested that we were really
quite finished and asked for the check. Before we could have that, they
brought us two more small bites (which our waiter very sternly told us would
help our digestion), one of Earl Grey sorbet (which was a revelation to
Jason--he was close to tears several times during the meal) and a tiny
sliver of apple tart. Whether it was those, or just the impeccable balance
of the meal, we were both surprised to find ourselves only pleasantly full,
not bloated at all. Michelin gives Guy Savoy two stars. There is at least
one three star restaurant in Paris, Taillevent, and although our mind
boggles at what could be better, we are tempted to try it on our way through
Paris in November. After dinner we walked from the restuarant down the
Champs-Elysees, feeling a need to stretch our legs, and got back on the
Metro at F.D. Roosevelt, having had a chance to witness the nightlife.
On Friday morning I ran out for pannini while Jason showered. Breakfast
was included with our room, but it consisted of all the baguettes with
jelly we could eat and neither of us are big carbohydrate eaters in the
morning. We headed out into another rainy day, popped into the Metro and
didn't really emerge for the rest of the day. We took the subway to the
Palais Royal stop, which connects directly into the new mall under the
Louvre. The mall reminded me quite a bit of the Prudential Center in
Boston. It leads into the area under I. M. Pei's new pyramid at the center
of the courtyard between the two long wings of the palace, surrounded by
fountains. As with the other buildings he's designed with which I am
familiar, it's lovely, but doesn't seem to function very well. There were
buckets scattered over the concourse to catch the leaks that have already
begun. We headed up to the top floor and went through the collection of
paintings from Northern Europe, including the Vermeers and the Rembrandts.
We were both headachey and tired, so we went back down to the concourse
after an hour and got sandwiches and caffeine, took ibuprofen and checked
our bags before heading back into the museum. Then we managed to walk
through all the rest of the collection that was open that day. Since
France decided to restrict workers to 35 hours a week, the Louvre has had
insufficient staff to keep the entire place open at once. So we were
unable to see their Islamic Art section or the section devoted to the arts
of Asia, Oceania and the Americas. We did see art and artifacts from
Egypt--displayed in wonderful 18th century French salons--Greece and Rome
as well as European (particularly French--surprise!) sculpture and painting
since the Middle Ages. We saw the standard highlights of the collection,
including the Venus de Milo, the Wedding at Cana, the Winged Victory and
the Mona Lisa--where the most interesting bit is the crowd around it. I
think my favorite piece of the whole day was probably a fragment of a
statue of Akenaton. We especially enjoyed the state apartments of Napoleon
III. We had a late afternoon snack in the Cafe Denon (amid the
Romano-Egyptian relics) around three, then kept at it until we had seen it
all. At that point all we wanted was to see our little room again, so we
headed back to the Left Bank.
Jason wanted a break from French food, so we wandered out in search of a
Spanish restaurant recommended in our guidebook and ended up wandering
through a tiny maze of streets filled with restuarants. We couldn't find
the street we needed and eventually gave up. We passed the recommended
Chinese place, but were intimidated by the line of fifteen people out
front. Heading toward a couple of possible bistros, we suddenly found
ourselves on the street we'd originally set out to find, so we got Spanish
food after all, at Fogon St. Julien on Rue St. Julien le Pauvre, one of the
very oldest churches in Paris. We started with a plate of mixed tapas
(tuna in olive oil, herring with onions and raisins, a croquette and a tiny
bowl of excellent gazpacho) and some of the best serrano ham I've had. Our
main course was a paella that had been described as coming with prawns that
turned out to be langoustines, so we had a seafood shelling adventure. Our
fixed menu included dessert and we had a plate of "sweet tapas," tiny bites
of flan, pineapple soaked in liquor with cream, strawberries with mint in
sweet syrup, and marinated cherries and apples with a dollop of ice cream,
along with a tiny glass of dessert wine. We were both struck by how much
more full we felt after that meal than we had the night before--all that
rice, I guess.
On Saturday morning, Patrick arrived at our hotel at 10:30am. He is an old
friend of the family who lives just outside Paris. He had planned to drive
in, but the north side of Paris was largely closed to traffic, due to the
Bastille Day parade, so he had taken the train and Metro to us instead, in
order to escort us back out to his home in Deuil-la-Barre. We had dinner
with him and his wife, Ann-Marie, and their younger son, Laurent. He was
15 months old the other time I met him, so it was fun to see the person he
has become. He is studying business sales at a local college, while their
older son, Loic, is in the gendarmerie, stationed about twenty miles north
of them. Ann-Marie had planned to grill in the garden, but the rain had
changed the plan to the tabletop grill inside. She prepared grilled
chicken, lamb chops, brochettes of cubed beef, sausages, tomatoes, peppers
and onions, along with couscous, a salad of tomatoes and mayo with peas and
carrots, cucumbers with dill, and lettuce in a light vinaigrette. After
lunch they suggested that we call my parents, so that they could speak to
them, which was fun. Laurent left to visit a friend, but he graciously
allowed me to take pictures of him first, since I told him my mother would
kill me if I came away without any.
We had hoped to go to Versailles, which I had visited with them twenty
years ago and which Jason would have liked to see. Unfortunately, as a
national monument it was closed for Bastille Day. So Patrick and Ann-Marie
took us first to another castle, which was closed, but interesting to walk
around and view the Ile de France. Afterwards we went to the chateau of
Chantilly. We parked out by the racetrack, next to the elaborate building
that once housed the stables of the estate and is now the Living Museum of
the Horse. I ducked inside to use their toilet and was delighted to see
several beautiful horses of interesting breeds. Patrick complained of the
smell, but I have always loved the odor of the stable. From there we
walked over to the chateau proper, where a wedding had just let out and the
photographer was taking pictures of the bride and groom with the chateau as
a backdrop. The chateau was closing, so we couldn't go inside, but we
wandered around its lovely courtyard and looked out over the formal water
gardens before heading back to the car. We made a quick stop back at the
house and then the four of us drove into Paris. We parked over by the
Universite Rene Descartes and then walked into the Latin Quarter maze we'd
explored the night before. Ann-Marie wanted Greek food and picked one of
the many restaurants in the crowded streets. Jason shared his starter of
tzatziki (yogurt with herbs) with us, while Patrick had dolmas and
Ann-Marie and I succumbed to the lure of escargot. They were served in
shells (not their own, pretty ones they clean and re-use) and were quite
tricky to get out. It may be authentic, but I prefer them just swimming in
little pools of garlic butter and easy to eat, although these were quite
tasty. Patrick had the roast pork, while the rest of us had lamb off the
spit. It was tasty, but very fatty and greasy and there was a lot of work
to get to a the little lean meat.
Patrick and Ann-Marie walked us back to our hotel and came up to see our
cute little room. It really did feel like an artist's garret, tucked above
the street. They took off with many invitations to return to Paris and see
them again soon. Jason decided to go out for a walk, while I stuck close
to the bathroom for a while and read some of Gary Nabhan's _Songbirds,
Truffles & Wolves_, a naturalist's tale of walking through central Italy
observing the ecological situation and struggling with his Catholic faith.
Jason came back, just as I was really starting to wonder where he'd gotten
to, and brought hot crepes filled with honey to share with me before bed.
He had walked out along Boulevard St. Germain, across and along the Seine,
enjoying the Bastille Day crowds.
Despite the predictions of more rain, Sunday dawned bright and clear for
Jason's birthday. We headed out to try the Eiffel Tower, but the lines were
already long enough to daunt us. So after grabbing a ham & cheese crepe
across the street, we walked up to the Arc de Triomphe, where the lines were
much shorter--only about fifteen minutes--and we could enjoy the view from
the center of the Baron Hausmann's star after climbing the 284 steps.
It was quite warm, actually, and we'd worn jeans and jackets, so after
descending to ground level, we headed back to the hotel to change. We set
out again for the Musee d'Orsay, but the line there was all the way down a
very long block, so we gave up on that. We walked down through the gardens
of the Hotel des Invalides, enjoying the view of the dome. Rather than go
inside, we ducked around the side to the Musee Rodin. We had a quick lunch
of quiche and a sandwich in the cafe in the museum's lovely gardens and
then went inside to see the large collection of the master's work. We both
appreciate Rodin's work very much and I am always thrilled to see the
various versions of his Caryatid Under a Stone. After wandering through
the museum and gardens--which were also getting pretty crowded by that
time--we strolled on out to the Bd. St. Germain and along it to the Odeon
stop. At that point I turned aside to find the hotel I had stayed in back
in 1994 and the Horse's Tavern where we enjoyed beer, mussels and street
theater on more than one evening. From there it was only a couple of
blocks toward the river to our hotel.
After another lovely nap, we dressed back up and took the metro up to the
Champs-Elysees/Clemenceau stop. A brief stroll through the Parc Marigny
took us to the Rue Faubourg Ste. Honore. We were early, so we walked past
our destination, admiring art galleries, until drops of rain arrived to
hurry us back to the Hotel Bristol. Our dinner in their restaurant made a
fitting match to the meal with which we began our stay in Paris. The room
was lovely, decorated like a garden tent and looking out into the central
courtyard of the hotel. We started again with champagne and this time did
choose the tasting menu. They call it "five-course" but with the various
amuses bouches and additional bits, it becomes much more than that. They
started us off with a cup of cold cucumber soup with mint and olive oil,
followed by a pair of pasta tubes filled with duck liver pate and truffles
and topped with parmesan cheese. I did a happy little dance right there in
my seat at the taste of those. Our next course, possibly Jason's favorite
of the whole trip, was two small red mullet fish on a bed of salsa made with
tomatoes, ginger and basil, topped with very thin slices of fried bread,
served with roasted garlic and aioli (garlic mayonaise). Next up was a two
ribs each from a rack of lamb served with a wonderfully flavorful chickpea
mash, carrots, and peas. Over this was poured a red wine demiglace. Each
course was presented under a silver dome that was whisked away dramatically
in order for the sauces to be poured from little silver sauceboats. The
cheese course served as a transition from the savory courses to the sweet.
With the help of our waiter, we each chose three cheeses from the trolley:
camembert, ashed chevre, and a Corsican sheep cheese for Jason and
Reblochon, a creamy goat cheese and a blue cheese called Fontainesomething
for me. The revelation of the evening were the sides provided...a sweet
raisin bread, muscat grapes, currants, dried apricots and dried figs. Each
of our cheeses went very well with one or the other of these and I realized
for the first time that these strong flavored cheeses are best when balanced
with a sweet substrate. After the cheese we started on the sweet portion of
the evening. First up was a tray of petit fours. This one consisted of two
each of a tiny eclair, a coconut macaroon, a meringue topped with a silver
dusted raspberry, and a tiny marzipan fritter. After that we were served a
small glass of peach sorbet with a few currants on a meringue floating in
the center. It was like eating pureed peaches. Next we got a Grand Marnier
cream cake (right on the border between cheesecake and ice cream) served
with roasted apricots that I think were sprinkled with cinnamon. We ordered
coffee to accompany the last entry in the dessert course, but might have
skipped it, because that was a scoop of incredibly COFFEE ice cream on a
lady finger-like cookie base, drenched in front of us with chocolate sauce.
That was tasty, even though I'm not a big fan of either coffee or chocolate
flavors, but it was really too much. We polished off our coffee with one
bite each of the Turkish delight candies provided along with chocolate cups
and truffles which we just couldn't even contemplate eating. Whew!
After that meal we rolled ourselves back to the Metro stop and then decided
that walking all the way back to the hotel wasn't a bad idea. We set off
along the Champs-Elysees, where seating was still set up from the parade the
day before. And one of them was on fire. Seriously, the back of one of the
stands was burning, with the flames starting to lick the overhanging
branches of the trees. So we ran up to the Place de la Concorde, where
there were lights on at the giant Ferris wheel they've erected there. I
tried to explain the emergency in French to a guard there and he pulled in a
passing student who had a mobile phone and called the police. Our duty
done, we waved goodbye and headed back to the hotel. They were looking at
us as if we were nuts and I hope everything worked out okay. Adrenaline
rush over, we slowed our pace considerably and descended to the quai right
along the river as we passed the length of the Louvre before turning into
the Latin Quarter to reach our hotel once more. We packed up and got to
sleep too late.
This morning we took the Metro back to the Gare du Nord station. We went
through passport control and hung out in the waiting lounge for about half
an hour. We contemplated buying a bottle of Meursault and did buy BLT's for
the trip, which we ate as soon as we got on board, in addition to the fruit
plates that came with breakfast in this direction. Jason read the paper and
started a complimentary issue of The Economist he picked up on the train,
while I wrote most of this report. We arrived back at Waterloo just after
noon made it quite quickly through passport control (having a non-EU
passport is the right thing on the Eurostar, apparently) and were back in
our flat by a quarter to one.
I'm thinking of making tuna casserole for dinner.
and get this written while it's all still fresh in my mind. Those of you
who don't find the detailed descriptions of meals fascinating may want to
skim more than usual. It was Paris, after all.
We had a slight detour getting to Waterloo on Thursday morning, since there
were track problems on the Jubilee line and we had to backtrack to the
Bakerloo line. One thing I like about the Underground system is that while
there are problems all the time and connections or even stations closed,
there is enough redundancy in the system that it's usually possible to find
a workaround.
We did make it on time and found our seats on the Eurostar train. The
biggest event of our trip was a trip to the loo, when I ran into Jackie
Chan, the Hong Kong action star of movies like Drunken Master, Supercop and
Rush Hour. He looked very good and really just like he does in his movies.
I sent Jason up to the First Class section to get a look at him, but he was
asleep in his seat by the time Jason passed. We did see him getting off the
train in Paris, putting on his mirrored shades, despite the rain. Otherwise
our trip was uneventful and we were entertained by the lovely little French
girl across the aisle, though she did get rambunctious whenever her mother
got on her mobile phone. We were in the Club section, which is like
business class, I guess. They came through and gave us breakfast of juice,
tea/coffee, breads with butter and jam, and a choice of a hot plate
(sausage, omelette, potatoes--my pick) or cold (sliced turkey and
cheese--Jason's choice). We were surprised that nowhere along the outbound
trip did anyone ask to see our passports or control our entry in any way.
Rain was a big part of our first three days. We were well equipped with
ponchos and umbrellas, but it was still somewhat of a hassle and dimmed the
beauty of the city.
We took the Metro from Gare du Nord down to St. Michel, on the Left Bank,
and walked from there to the Hotel St. Andre des Arts
(http://www.123france.com/europe/france/paris/hotels/hosandus.htm) which was
down a very funky, mostly pedestrian street of shops, restaurants and bars.
Our room, up a tiny staircase behind the registration desk, was small and
plain, but quaint, with exposed beams across the ceiling and in the walls.
The bathroom was very large, with a nice deep tub and a window into the
central airshaft of the building, as well as a good-sized closet. The
shower was not excellent...the taps were on the side, but the hook for the
showerhead was at the end, so the angle of the hose pinched off the water
supply unless one was very careful. The window of our room looked out onto
the street, but was sufficiently glazed to block out the noise quite well
when we wanted. We enjoyed several pre-dinner naps while listening to the
people passing below.
Having checked in, we got a couple of grilled pannini with ham and cheese
and ate them as we wandered across the Seine to the Ile de la Cite and the
Palace of Justice. We skipped the Conciergerie, where Marie Antoinette was
imprisoned, and visited the 13th century Sainte-Chapelle. With its walls
constructed almost entirely of stained glass and reflective glass, metal
and semi-precious stones used in the decorations of what is not actually
window, the entire upper chapel sparkles like the jewel box of a queen.
From there we walked over to Notre Dame. It has been cleaned recently and
is a lovely buttery color, rather than the grey it is in my memory. It was
pouring again and the floor of the entryway was covered in water, but it
dried out as we moved along the aisles. We went into the Treasury exhibit
to see a few of the chasubles, chalices, reliquaries and hymnbooks of the
church's collection. A favorite piece was a crown consisting of some 16
angels, their gold and lapis wings stretching back to form the struts, with
a ball of lapis supporting the cross on top. The rose windows, while
lacking the brilliancy of a sunny day, were beautiful in their complexity
and color. I was much amused by someone using the PA system to say
"Shhhhhhhhhhhh! Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Shhhhhhhhh!" It would have been nice to
have more silence, but people seemed to pay little heed to the request.
Leaving the sanctuary, we decided the cloud cover was too heavy to justify
climbing the tower. Instead we walked around the building along the Seine
to admire the flying buttresses and the spire.
As I unpacked, I had realized that pantyhose were not among the things in
my suitcase. Since we had the time, we wandered over to Marks &
Spencer--glad their Paris store had not been closed down like so many of
their continental stores--and found what I needed. From there we walked
back to the hotel and had a lovely nap before dinner.
I had made reservations at Guy Savoy, based on a recommendation in Fodor's,
who have yet to steer me wrong. Located on a side street north of the Arc
de Triomphe, it's an easy place to miss, with its sliding door looking
like a wall of wood and glass. Inside is a secluded, modern dining room
with lots of wood and metal. While lovely, it felt somewhat sterile to me,
like the executive dining room of a very high end law firm.
The meal that followed was just incredible, characterized by bold
combinations of flavors used to create remarkably subtle overall effects.
We began with a glass of champagne. First we were handed an amuse bouche of
a small crostini with a slice of duck liver pate. That was followed by a
bite of a watermelon and radish confection. Then we were brought a plate
with one bite each of a lovely marinated and grilled tuna, a skewer of
tomato and squid, and a tiny bowl of carrot soup with star anise. Neither
of us generally enjoy anise, but the flavors combined so perfectly that we
were both quite impressed. Somewhere amid all this showing off by the chef,
we got to order. We declined the E170 tasting menu and went a la carte
instead. Jason ordered the grilled mussels with morel mushrooms in a light
butter sauce and I asked for the house specialty of cream of artichoke soup
with shaved black truffles and parmesan cheese with a mushroom-stuffed
brioche with truffle butter on the side. We were therefore surprised when
our waiter brought two portions of the mussels. I explained the mistake and
he apologized, left the mussels with us and brought us each a half portion
of the soup as our next course. With our first courses, we were enjoying
the sommelier's recommendation of a half bottle of Meursault, a white
varietal unfamiliar to us, but destined to become quite a favorite. With
our mains, we split another half bottle, this one of Bordeaux. I was
starting to write down the names when the sommelier offered us the labels,
which he brought us in a Guy Savoy souvenir folder that we will add to our
memorabilia to remind us of a fabulous gustatory experience. For mains,
Jason had a lovely roast lamb, carved tableside, over greens with tiny hunks
of bacon, with a cheesy spinach and mushroom side dish. Mine was pigeon,
poached to keep in the juices and then grilled to crisp the skin, served
with pureed peas and spinach and drizzled with a sherry vinaigrette. On the
side I was brought the pigeon gizzards in a napoleon (layers) of beet chips.
After those were cleared away and we declined the cheese course, they
brought us a plate of petit fours, including a sliver of chocolate with a
square of gelatin topped with currant, a berry meringue filled with berry
mousse, a vanilla pastry shell filled with something creamy, and a candied
fruit (one of those things that looks like a tomatillo, but is sweet--or so
other people tell me; I find them so sour they send shivers down my spine,
although that reaction was mitigated by the caramelized sugar coating this
one), each one bite-sized. They also handed us a small caramel crisp
encrusted with macadamia nuts and pink praline. For dessert (no, that
wasn't dessert, apparently) we split a millefeuille, layers of puff pastry
filled with a vanilla cream, with just a few strawberries, currants and
raspberries on the side. We declined coffee, protested that we were really
quite finished and asked for the check. Before we could have that, they
brought us two more small bites (which our waiter very sternly told us would
help our digestion), one of Earl Grey sorbet (which was a revelation to
Jason--he was close to tears several times during the meal) and a tiny
sliver of apple tart. Whether it was those, or just the impeccable balance
of the meal, we were both surprised to find ourselves only pleasantly full,
not bloated at all. Michelin gives Guy Savoy two stars. There is at least
one three star restaurant in Paris, Taillevent, and although our mind
boggles at what could be better, we are tempted to try it on our way through
Paris in November. After dinner we walked from the restuarant down the
Champs-Elysees, feeling a need to stretch our legs, and got back on the
Metro at F.D. Roosevelt, having had a chance to witness the nightlife.
On Friday morning I ran out for pannini while Jason showered. Breakfast
was included with our room, but it consisted of all the baguettes with
jelly we could eat and neither of us are big carbohydrate eaters in the
morning. We headed out into another rainy day, popped into the Metro and
didn't really emerge for the rest of the day. We took the subway to the
Palais Royal stop, which connects directly into the new mall under the
Louvre. The mall reminded me quite a bit of the Prudential Center in
Boston. It leads into the area under I. M. Pei's new pyramid at the center
of the courtyard between the two long wings of the palace, surrounded by
fountains. As with the other buildings he's designed with which I am
familiar, it's lovely, but doesn't seem to function very well. There were
buckets scattered over the concourse to catch the leaks that have already
begun. We headed up to the top floor and went through the collection of
paintings from Northern Europe, including the Vermeers and the Rembrandts.
We were both headachey and tired, so we went back down to the concourse
after an hour and got sandwiches and caffeine, took ibuprofen and checked
our bags before heading back into the museum. Then we managed to walk
through all the rest of the collection that was open that day. Since
France decided to restrict workers to 35 hours a week, the Louvre has had
insufficient staff to keep the entire place open at once. So we were
unable to see their Islamic Art section or the section devoted to the arts
of Asia, Oceania and the Americas. We did see art and artifacts from
Egypt--displayed in wonderful 18th century French salons--Greece and Rome
as well as European (particularly French--surprise!) sculpture and painting
since the Middle Ages. We saw the standard highlights of the collection,
including the Venus de Milo, the Wedding at Cana, the Winged Victory and
the Mona Lisa--where the most interesting bit is the crowd around it. I
think my favorite piece of the whole day was probably a fragment of a
statue of Akenaton. We especially enjoyed the state apartments of Napoleon
III. We had a late afternoon snack in the Cafe Denon (amid the
Romano-Egyptian relics) around three, then kept at it until we had seen it
all. At that point all we wanted was to see our little room again, so we
headed back to the Left Bank.
Jason wanted a break from French food, so we wandered out in search of a
Spanish restaurant recommended in our guidebook and ended up wandering
through a tiny maze of streets filled with restuarants. We couldn't find
the street we needed and eventually gave up. We passed the recommended
Chinese place, but were intimidated by the line of fifteen people out
front. Heading toward a couple of possible bistros, we suddenly found
ourselves on the street we'd originally set out to find, so we got Spanish
food after all, at Fogon St. Julien on Rue St. Julien le Pauvre, one of the
very oldest churches in Paris. We started with a plate of mixed tapas
(tuna in olive oil, herring with onions and raisins, a croquette and a tiny
bowl of excellent gazpacho) and some of the best serrano ham I've had. Our
main course was a paella that had been described as coming with prawns that
turned out to be langoustines, so we had a seafood shelling adventure. Our
fixed menu included dessert and we had a plate of "sweet tapas," tiny bites
of flan, pineapple soaked in liquor with cream, strawberries with mint in
sweet syrup, and marinated cherries and apples with a dollop of ice cream,
along with a tiny glass of dessert wine. We were both struck by how much
more full we felt after that meal than we had the night before--all that
rice, I guess.
On Saturday morning, Patrick arrived at our hotel at 10:30am. He is an old
friend of the family who lives just outside Paris. He had planned to drive
in, but the north side of Paris was largely closed to traffic, due to the
Bastille Day parade, so he had taken the train and Metro to us instead, in
order to escort us back out to his home in Deuil-la-Barre. We had dinner
with him and his wife, Ann-Marie, and their younger son, Laurent. He was
15 months old the other time I met him, so it was fun to see the person he
has become. He is studying business sales at a local college, while their
older son, Loic, is in the gendarmerie, stationed about twenty miles north
of them. Ann-Marie had planned to grill in the garden, but the rain had
changed the plan to the tabletop grill inside. She prepared grilled
chicken, lamb chops, brochettes of cubed beef, sausages, tomatoes, peppers
and onions, along with couscous, a salad of tomatoes and mayo with peas and
carrots, cucumbers with dill, and lettuce in a light vinaigrette. After
lunch they suggested that we call my parents, so that they could speak to
them, which was fun. Laurent left to visit a friend, but he graciously
allowed me to take pictures of him first, since I told him my mother would
kill me if I came away without any.
We had hoped to go to Versailles, which I had visited with them twenty
years ago and which Jason would have liked to see. Unfortunately, as a
national monument it was closed for Bastille Day. So Patrick and Ann-Marie
took us first to another castle, which was closed, but interesting to walk
around and view the Ile de France. Afterwards we went to the chateau of
Chantilly. We parked out by the racetrack, next to the elaborate building
that once housed the stables of the estate and is now the Living Museum of
the Horse. I ducked inside to use their toilet and was delighted to see
several beautiful horses of interesting breeds. Patrick complained of the
smell, but I have always loved the odor of the stable. From there we
walked over to the chateau proper, where a wedding had just let out and the
photographer was taking pictures of the bride and groom with the chateau as
a backdrop. The chateau was closing, so we couldn't go inside, but we
wandered around its lovely courtyard and looked out over the formal water
gardens before heading back to the car. We made a quick stop back at the
house and then the four of us drove into Paris. We parked over by the
Universite Rene Descartes and then walked into the Latin Quarter maze we'd
explored the night before. Ann-Marie wanted Greek food and picked one of
the many restaurants in the crowded streets. Jason shared his starter of
tzatziki (yogurt with herbs) with us, while Patrick had dolmas and
Ann-Marie and I succumbed to the lure of escargot. They were served in
shells (not their own, pretty ones they clean and re-use) and were quite
tricky to get out. It may be authentic, but I prefer them just swimming in
little pools of garlic butter and easy to eat, although these were quite
tasty. Patrick had the roast pork, while the rest of us had lamb off the
spit. It was tasty, but very fatty and greasy and there was a lot of work
to get to a the little lean meat.
Patrick and Ann-Marie walked us back to our hotel and came up to see our
cute little room. It really did feel like an artist's garret, tucked above
the street. They took off with many invitations to return to Paris and see
them again soon. Jason decided to go out for a walk, while I stuck close
to the bathroom for a while and read some of Gary Nabhan's _Songbirds,
Truffles & Wolves_, a naturalist's tale of walking through central Italy
observing the ecological situation and struggling with his Catholic faith.
Jason came back, just as I was really starting to wonder where he'd gotten
to, and brought hot crepes filled with honey to share with me before bed.
He had walked out along Boulevard St. Germain, across and along the Seine,
enjoying the Bastille Day crowds.
Despite the predictions of more rain, Sunday dawned bright and clear for
Jason's birthday. We headed out to try the Eiffel Tower, but the lines were
already long enough to daunt us. So after grabbing a ham & cheese crepe
across the street, we walked up to the Arc de Triomphe, where the lines were
much shorter--only about fifteen minutes--and we could enjoy the view from
the center of the Baron Hausmann's star after climbing the 284 steps.
It was quite warm, actually, and we'd worn jeans and jackets, so after
descending to ground level, we headed back to the hotel to change. We set
out again for the Musee d'Orsay, but the line there was all the way down a
very long block, so we gave up on that. We walked down through the gardens
of the Hotel des Invalides, enjoying the view of the dome. Rather than go
inside, we ducked around the side to the Musee Rodin. We had a quick lunch
of quiche and a sandwich in the cafe in the museum's lovely gardens and
then went inside to see the large collection of the master's work. We both
appreciate Rodin's work very much and I am always thrilled to see the
various versions of his Caryatid Under a Stone. After wandering through
the museum and gardens--which were also getting pretty crowded by that
time--we strolled on out to the Bd. St. Germain and along it to the Odeon
stop. At that point I turned aside to find the hotel I had stayed in back
in 1994 and the Horse's Tavern where we enjoyed beer, mussels and street
theater on more than one evening. From there it was only a couple of
blocks toward the river to our hotel.
After another lovely nap, we dressed back up and took the metro up to the
Champs-Elysees/Clemenceau stop. A brief stroll through the Parc Marigny
took us to the Rue Faubourg Ste. Honore. We were early, so we walked past
our destination, admiring art galleries, until drops of rain arrived to
hurry us back to the Hotel Bristol. Our dinner in their restaurant made a
fitting match to the meal with which we began our stay in Paris. The room
was lovely, decorated like a garden tent and looking out into the central
courtyard of the hotel. We started again with champagne and this time did
choose the tasting menu. They call it "five-course" but with the various
amuses bouches and additional bits, it becomes much more than that. They
started us off with a cup of cold cucumber soup with mint and olive oil,
followed by a pair of pasta tubes filled with duck liver pate and truffles
and topped with parmesan cheese. I did a happy little dance right there in
my seat at the taste of those. Our next course, possibly Jason's favorite
of the whole trip, was two small red mullet fish on a bed of salsa made with
tomatoes, ginger and basil, topped with very thin slices of fried bread,
served with roasted garlic and aioli (garlic mayonaise). Next up was a two
ribs each from a rack of lamb served with a wonderfully flavorful chickpea
mash, carrots, and peas. Over this was poured a red wine demiglace. Each
course was presented under a silver dome that was whisked away dramatically
in order for the sauces to be poured from little silver sauceboats. The
cheese course served as a transition from the savory courses to the sweet.
With the help of our waiter, we each chose three cheeses from the trolley:
camembert, ashed chevre, and a Corsican sheep cheese for Jason and
Reblochon, a creamy goat cheese and a blue cheese called Fontainesomething
for me. The revelation of the evening were the sides provided...a sweet
raisin bread, muscat grapes, currants, dried apricots and dried figs. Each
of our cheeses went very well with one or the other of these and I realized
for the first time that these strong flavored cheeses are best when balanced
with a sweet substrate. After the cheese we started on the sweet portion of
the evening. First up was a tray of petit fours. This one consisted of two
each of a tiny eclair, a coconut macaroon, a meringue topped with a silver
dusted raspberry, and a tiny marzipan fritter. After that we were served a
small glass of peach sorbet with a few currants on a meringue floating in
the center. It was like eating pureed peaches. Next we got a Grand Marnier
cream cake (right on the border between cheesecake and ice cream) served
with roasted apricots that I think were sprinkled with cinnamon. We ordered
coffee to accompany the last entry in the dessert course, but might have
skipped it, because that was a scoop of incredibly COFFEE ice cream on a
lady finger-like cookie base, drenched in front of us with chocolate sauce.
That was tasty, even though I'm not a big fan of either coffee or chocolate
flavors, but it was really too much. We polished off our coffee with one
bite each of the Turkish delight candies provided along with chocolate cups
and truffles which we just couldn't even contemplate eating. Whew!
After that meal we rolled ourselves back to the Metro stop and then decided
that walking all the way back to the hotel wasn't a bad idea. We set off
along the Champs-Elysees, where seating was still set up from the parade the
day before. And one of them was on fire. Seriously, the back of one of the
stands was burning, with the flames starting to lick the overhanging
branches of the trees. So we ran up to the Place de la Concorde, where
there were lights on at the giant Ferris wheel they've erected there. I
tried to explain the emergency in French to a guard there and he pulled in a
passing student who had a mobile phone and called the police. Our duty
done, we waved goodbye and headed back to the hotel. They were looking at
us as if we were nuts and I hope everything worked out okay. Adrenaline
rush over, we slowed our pace considerably and descended to the quai right
along the river as we passed the length of the Louvre before turning into
the Latin Quarter to reach our hotel once more. We packed up and got to
sleep too late.
This morning we took the Metro back to the Gare du Nord station. We went
through passport control and hung out in the waiting lounge for about half
an hour. We contemplated buying a bottle of Meursault and did buy BLT's for
the trip, which we ate as soon as we got on board, in addition to the fruit
plates that came with breakfast in this direction. Jason read the paper and
started a complimentary issue of The Economist he picked up on the train,
while I wrote most of this report. We arrived back at Waterloo just after
noon made it quite quickly through passport control (having a non-EU
passport is the right thing on the Eurostar, apparently) and were back in
our flat by a quarter to one.
I'm thinking of making tuna casserole for dinner.
