Cooking with strangers - Anselm alone in the City of Light
Mar 27th, 2006, 04:42 PM
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Last post for the night--my daughter is home from university and we're supposed to be watching Wallace and Gromit ...
“Le seul roi dont le peuple ait garde la mémoire”
Henri IV’s rejection of Protestantism was regarded with suspicion through much of his reign, but he proved to be one of the best kings France ever had. He restored peace and prosperity to a broken and starving country. (Henri said he wanted every labourer in his kingdom to have a chicken in the pot each Sunday, and he meant it.) His Edict of Nantes did nothing to ease the skepticism of his detractors, but it was an unprecedented act of tolerance for the age. He supported Champlain’s efforts to establish settlements in the New World. He made an imprint on Paris that remains to this day: he insisted on the completion of Pont Neuf, and he ordered the construction of Place Royale (now Place des Vosges) as the centrepeice of the Marais. He supported the arts, building much of the southern wing of the Louvre, and invited artists to move into the lower rooms of the building.
He was a popular king, despite his complex love life and outrageous personal spending. His marriage to Marguerite of Valois was annulled, and he then married Marie de Médicis. There were always other women—and children—needing his support. Fondly known as the Vert Galant, his reign was cut short at the hand of a fanatic, who assassinated him as he sat in his carriage on 14 May 1610. An eighteenth-century poet later said that Henri IV was “the only king remembered by the people.”
Paris in winter
Most fountains were dry, and save for a small bed of hardy flowers along Canal Saint-Martin, the gardens slept. It was cold most days, with either damp fog or skies the colour of unscoured wool. Passers-by were bundled for the weather. On three glorious mornings sunlight washed pale gold on the sides of buildings, danced on the Seine, and filtered gently through the bare branches of trees. Drawn outdoors by the sun, people strolled or jogged in the parks. (The photographs: www.pbase.com/anselmadorne; click on “Paris in winter.”)
I spent many hours walking—Île Saint-Louis, the banks of the Seine, Place de la Concorde, Tuileries, Faubourg Saint-Antoine, rue de Lappe, the Latin Quarter, Canal Saint-Martin, Place des Vosges, and the area around Les Halles. I visited Square de Vert Gallant, that little park at the western end of Île de la Cité. The Pont Neuf sets a foot down there on its way across the river, and on the bridge, just above the park, is a statue of Henri IV. Wasn’t that one of the places where Henri arranged his trysts? When I looked at the statue, I swear I saw a twinkle in his eye.
On a Sunday afternoon I wandered through the Marais, marveling at the crowds (there was a long line-up at L’As du Falafel on rue des Rosiers), and later watched the skaters on the rink in front of Hôtel de Ville. Sunday evenings I attended the organ recitals at Saint-Eustache.
I visited the Mémorial de la Déportation at the western tip of Île de la Cité. It is a deeply moving site, and somehow more somber in winter. But I was shattered when I walked by an elementary school on rue de l’Ave-Maria in Village St-Paul. As I approached I could hear the voices of children in the playground. Glancing up at the door I saw a plaque that said, “To the memory of the students of this school, deported between 1942 and 1944 because they were born Jews, innocent victims of Nazi barbarism with the active complicity of the Vichy government. They were exterminated in the death camps. Let us never forget them.”
Tomorrow: Saint-Denis and restaurants.
“Le seul roi dont le peuple ait garde la mémoire”
Henri IV’s rejection of Protestantism was regarded with suspicion through much of his reign, but he proved to be one of the best kings France ever had. He restored peace and prosperity to a broken and starving country. (Henri said he wanted every labourer in his kingdom to have a chicken in the pot each Sunday, and he meant it.) His Edict of Nantes did nothing to ease the skepticism of his detractors, but it was an unprecedented act of tolerance for the age. He supported Champlain’s efforts to establish settlements in the New World. He made an imprint on Paris that remains to this day: he insisted on the completion of Pont Neuf, and he ordered the construction of Place Royale (now Place des Vosges) as the centrepeice of the Marais. He supported the arts, building much of the southern wing of the Louvre, and invited artists to move into the lower rooms of the building.
He was a popular king, despite his complex love life and outrageous personal spending. His marriage to Marguerite of Valois was annulled, and he then married Marie de Médicis. There were always other women—and children—needing his support. Fondly known as the Vert Galant, his reign was cut short at the hand of a fanatic, who assassinated him as he sat in his carriage on 14 May 1610. An eighteenth-century poet later said that Henri IV was “the only king remembered by the people.”
Paris in winter
Most fountains were dry, and save for a small bed of hardy flowers along Canal Saint-Martin, the gardens slept. It was cold most days, with either damp fog or skies the colour of unscoured wool. Passers-by were bundled for the weather. On three glorious mornings sunlight washed pale gold on the sides of buildings, danced on the Seine, and filtered gently through the bare branches of trees. Drawn outdoors by the sun, people strolled or jogged in the parks. (The photographs: www.pbase.com/anselmadorne; click on “Paris in winter.”)
I spent many hours walking—Île Saint-Louis, the banks of the Seine, Place de la Concorde, Tuileries, Faubourg Saint-Antoine, rue de Lappe, the Latin Quarter, Canal Saint-Martin, Place des Vosges, and the area around Les Halles. I visited Square de Vert Gallant, that little park at the western end of Île de la Cité. The Pont Neuf sets a foot down there on its way across the river, and on the bridge, just above the park, is a statue of Henri IV. Wasn’t that one of the places where Henri arranged his trysts? When I looked at the statue, I swear I saw a twinkle in his eye.
On a Sunday afternoon I wandered through the Marais, marveling at the crowds (there was a long line-up at L’As du Falafel on rue des Rosiers), and later watched the skaters on the rink in front of Hôtel de Ville. Sunday evenings I attended the organ recitals at Saint-Eustache.
I visited the Mémorial de la Déportation at the western tip of Île de la Cité. It is a deeply moving site, and somehow more somber in winter. But I was shattered when I walked by an elementary school on rue de l’Ave-Maria in Village St-Paul. As I approached I could hear the voices of children in the playground. Glancing up at the door I saw a plaque that said, “To the memory of the students of this school, deported between 1942 and 1944 because they were born Jews, innocent victims of Nazi barbarism with the active complicity of the Vichy government. They were exterminated in the death camps. Let us never forget them.”
Tomorrow: Saint-Denis and restaurants.
Mar 27th, 2006, 05:09 PM
#24
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Thanks! I am enjoying reading your trip report! I am going in September and plan to visit some of the same places. Question about the apartment - does the couch open to a bed? I'm looking for an apt. that has 2 beds and this one looks lovely.
Mar 27th, 2006, 05:14 PM
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Your writing style is so beautiful....do you write much on your own? I loved your word usage and got a feeling for the place as though I were the one seeing the things you saw.
Looking forward to reading more!!
Looking forward to reading more!!
Mar 27th, 2006, 05:31 PM
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Anselm,
Great report! Now I feel as if I must get to Paris soon...
I also remember when you were there. There was a woman on this board wondring about the location of apartments and you walked around and described the neighborhoods!
Great report! Now I feel as if I must get to Paris soon...
I also remember when you were there. There was a woman on this board wondring about the location of apartments and you walked around and described the neighborhoods!
Mar 27th, 2006, 06:55 PM
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I really must sign off for the night, but ...
travginny, that is amazing. I lived on rue Des Talus in Ste-Foy from 1953 to 1969. I went to Quebec High School, graduated in '68, and went on to Bishop's in Lennoxville. (Anselm isn't my real name, in case we ever crossed paths.)
What is even more of a coincidence is something that I haven't included in this trip report. I made an acquintance with a fellow-Canadian on FlyerTalk and met him for dinner one evening on this trip to Paris. He is another Quebec anglo and went to St. Pat's. Small world, isn't it?
More tomorrow ...
Anselm
travginny, that is amazing. I lived on rue Des Talus in Ste-Foy from 1953 to 1969. I went to Quebec High School, graduated in '68, and went on to Bishop's in Lennoxville. (Anselm isn't my real name, in case we ever crossed paths.)
What is even more of a coincidence is something that I haven't included in this trip report. I made an acquintance with a fellow-Canadian on FlyerTalk and met him for dinner one evening on this trip to Paris. He is another Quebec anglo and went to St. Pat's. Small world, isn't it?
More tomorrow ...
Anselm
Mar 27th, 2006, 09:26 PM
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Than you are not this Anselm Adorne?
One of the most famous of the Bruges merchants at this time was Anselm Adorne. His family was influential in Bruges and he himself was widely travelled. In 1468 he came to Scotland on a trade mission to try to re-establish trade between Scotland and Flanders and while he was in Scotland he met King James III.
One of the most famous of the Bruges merchants at this time was Anselm Adorne. His family was influential in Bruges and he himself was widely travelled. In 1468 he came to Scotland on a trade mission to try to re-establish trade between Scotland and Flanders and while he was in Scotland he met King James III.
Mar 28th, 2006, 04:30 AM
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And so to end ...
Henri’s bones—the Basilique Saint-Denis
On my last full day in Paris I made my way in rain to Saint-Denis. The necropolis of French royalty, a birthplace of Gothic architecture, and once the religious centre of France, this site is a treasure. Abbot Suger built the choir and narthex in the twelfth-century, while the nave and transept were completed a full hundred years later. Unlike Notre-Dame, which leaves me a bit cold, I find Saint-Denis proportioned, elegant, and beautiful. Walking around the ambulatory, flooded in light from translucent walls, is an unforgettable experience.
Almost all of the country’s royalty were laid to rest at Saint-Denis, many of the earliest rulers in elaborate tombs, the Bourbons (of which Henri IV was the first) more simply preserved in the crypt. During the Revolution, the remains were thrown into a large nearby pit, where they stayed until the Restoration. At that point, the bodies of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were put back into tombs, while all the rest of the royal remains were placed in an ossuary.
I found the ossuary; it’s at the end of a low and narrow stone passageway at the bottom of the north stairs down into the crypt. Inside, there are two plaques on the wall listing all of the royalty whose bones are interred behind the wall. Henri IV is among them.
Restaurants
Living in one neighbourhood for close to two weeks, I made a point of looking into a number of places within a fifteen-minute walk of the apartment. Café Sully, at the corner of Morland and Henri IV, Café des Phares, and Café Français, both at Place de la Bastille, were regular destinations for breakfast or a late afternoon drink. (Café Français served little pots of Wilkin and Sons jam with their tartine, which was hard to resist. Café Sully had the best vin chaud.) Lunches were in cafés, wherever I happened to be in the city. Cafés tend to cluster, so I would look at the hand-written menus until I saw a plat de jour that looked appealing.
I ate dinner twice at Baz Art Café, a restaurant on Henri IV between boulevard Morland and Place de la Bastille. My wife and daughter had eaten there a couple of times in August and enjoyed its ambiance and good food. The atmosphere is informal, with a friendly greeting. (On my second visit the waiter remembered that I preferred the non-smoking section, and the barman shook my hand when he brought over the wine.) On one occasion I had entrecôte, with carrots and endive braised in beef stock (there was a dusting of cinnamon on the carrots, which was delightful). On the later evening it was seared lotte in a saffron sauce with perfectly cooked winter greens. Not normally one to get excited about dessert, I must mention that I had a wonderful pear poached in spiced wine; it was served with a ball of blueberry sorbet. I can still close my eyes and conjure up the taste. (Baz Art Café: 36 bd Henri IV, tel 01 42 78 62 23, www.bazartcafe.com)
L’Ecume, which I mentioned in our recent trip report on Auvergne, is on the other side of the street from Baz Art. My wife and I had the Menu Parisienne last May, and thought it was excellent. This time I ordered à la carte, trying the marinated herring, followed by lamb chops. The latter was served with the puréed potatoes that come with the Menu Parisienne. These are quite stunning, laced liberally with garlic and butter. The atmosphere here is also informal. In May we watched the waiter stepping over a sleeping dog; this time he had to manoeuvre around a young father walking a tiny baby around the restaurant. When I asked the man how old his child was, he said “Bientôt un mois,” almost a month. (L’Ecume: 25 bd Henri IV, tel 01 42 72 39 85, www.restaurant-lecume.com)
On my last evening I tried Le Petit Bofinger. The pacing of the meal surprised me. There was a startlingly short interval between the first and second course, and then an interminable wait between the second course and dessert. The entrée, a celery remoulade, was perfect, as was the rouget that followed. Unfortunately, the vegetables paled in comparison to Baz Art. Nonetheless, I liked the atmosphere in this restaurant and would like to try it again. (Le Petit Bofinger: 6 rue de la Bastille, tel 01 42 72 05 23)
It was still cold and dark when I took a taxi to the airport the next morning. As we waited at a traffic light, I watched someone open the door of a café. It was bright inside. I could imagine the warmth, the sound of cups settling on saucers, and the scent of fresh coffee. This city will stimulate your senses, but beware, it will capture your heart.
Henri’s bones—the Basilique Saint-Denis
On my last full day in Paris I made my way in rain to Saint-Denis. The necropolis of French royalty, a birthplace of Gothic architecture, and once the religious centre of France, this site is a treasure. Abbot Suger built the choir and narthex in the twelfth-century, while the nave and transept were completed a full hundred years later. Unlike Notre-Dame, which leaves me a bit cold, I find Saint-Denis proportioned, elegant, and beautiful. Walking around the ambulatory, flooded in light from translucent walls, is an unforgettable experience.
Almost all of the country’s royalty were laid to rest at Saint-Denis, many of the earliest rulers in elaborate tombs, the Bourbons (of which Henri IV was the first) more simply preserved in the crypt. During the Revolution, the remains were thrown into a large nearby pit, where they stayed until the Restoration. At that point, the bodies of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were put back into tombs, while all the rest of the royal remains were placed in an ossuary.
I found the ossuary; it’s at the end of a low and narrow stone passageway at the bottom of the north stairs down into the crypt. Inside, there are two plaques on the wall listing all of the royalty whose bones are interred behind the wall. Henri IV is among them.
Restaurants
Living in one neighbourhood for close to two weeks, I made a point of looking into a number of places within a fifteen-minute walk of the apartment. Café Sully, at the corner of Morland and Henri IV, Café des Phares, and Café Français, both at Place de la Bastille, were regular destinations for breakfast or a late afternoon drink. (Café Français served little pots of Wilkin and Sons jam with their tartine, which was hard to resist. Café Sully had the best vin chaud.) Lunches were in cafés, wherever I happened to be in the city. Cafés tend to cluster, so I would look at the hand-written menus until I saw a plat de jour that looked appealing.
I ate dinner twice at Baz Art Café, a restaurant on Henri IV between boulevard Morland and Place de la Bastille. My wife and daughter had eaten there a couple of times in August and enjoyed its ambiance and good food. The atmosphere is informal, with a friendly greeting. (On my second visit the waiter remembered that I preferred the non-smoking section, and the barman shook my hand when he brought over the wine.) On one occasion I had entrecôte, with carrots and endive braised in beef stock (there was a dusting of cinnamon on the carrots, which was delightful). On the later evening it was seared lotte in a saffron sauce with perfectly cooked winter greens. Not normally one to get excited about dessert, I must mention that I had a wonderful pear poached in spiced wine; it was served with a ball of blueberry sorbet. I can still close my eyes and conjure up the taste. (Baz Art Café: 36 bd Henri IV, tel 01 42 78 62 23, www.bazartcafe.com)
L’Ecume, which I mentioned in our recent trip report on Auvergne, is on the other side of the street from Baz Art. My wife and I had the Menu Parisienne last May, and thought it was excellent. This time I ordered à la carte, trying the marinated herring, followed by lamb chops. The latter was served with the puréed potatoes that come with the Menu Parisienne. These are quite stunning, laced liberally with garlic and butter. The atmosphere here is also informal. In May we watched the waiter stepping over a sleeping dog; this time he had to manoeuvre around a young father walking a tiny baby around the restaurant. When I asked the man how old his child was, he said “Bientôt un mois,” almost a month. (L’Ecume: 25 bd Henri IV, tel 01 42 72 39 85, www.restaurant-lecume.com)
On my last evening I tried Le Petit Bofinger. The pacing of the meal surprised me. There was a startlingly short interval between the first and second course, and then an interminable wait between the second course and dessert. The entrée, a celery remoulade, was perfect, as was the rouget that followed. Unfortunately, the vegetables paled in comparison to Baz Art. Nonetheless, I liked the atmosphere in this restaurant and would like to try it again. (Le Petit Bofinger: 6 rue de la Bastille, tel 01 42 72 05 23)
It was still cold and dark when I took a taxi to the airport the next morning. As we waited at a traffic light, I watched someone open the door of a café. It was bright inside. I could imagine the warmth, the sound of cups settling on saucers, and the scent of fresh coffee. This city will stimulate your senses, but beware, it will capture your heart.
Mar 28th, 2006, 05:10 AM
#38
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Ira, the camera is a Nikon D70 SLR (a retirement indulgence for myself), and I edit with Photoshop Elements 4. I feel very clumsy with both camera and software, and hope to improve.
Scarlett, you've found my internet persona: the 15th century Anselm Adorne. He really did exist, and also plays a supporting role in Dorothy Dunnett's wonderful House of Niccolo novels.
Leely, yes, that was me wandering around looking at streets and buildings for Julies, who has since been to Paris.
cigalechanta, I'm sending you a big hug. I'm glad you liked the garden and the cat.
ilovetotravel29, I wrote most of this on a laptop during the evenings in Paris. It's a pleasure not to have to write for work any more. (I also have the good fortune to be married to an editor, so I show her drafts and get them back with little remarks like: "I see you've used both 19th-century and nineteenth-century; pick one style and stick to it.)
cls2paris, yes, that couch in the living room apparently folds out to make another bed, so you could fit four in the apartment. There is only one bathroom, however, and the kitchen isn't huge.
Many thanks to everyone else for their kind remarks.
Anselm
Scarlett, you've found my internet persona: the 15th century Anselm Adorne. He really did exist, and also plays a supporting role in Dorothy Dunnett's wonderful House of Niccolo novels.
Leely, yes, that was me wandering around looking at streets and buildings for Julies, who has since been to Paris.
cigalechanta, I'm sending you a big hug. I'm glad you liked the garden and the cat.
ilovetotravel29, I wrote most of this on a laptop during the evenings in Paris. It's a pleasure not to have to write for work any more. (I also have the good fortune to be married to an editor, so I show her drafts and get them back with little remarks like: "I see you've used both 19th-century and nineteenth-century; pick one style and stick to it.)
cls2paris, yes, that couch in the living room apparently folds out to make another bed, so you could fit four in the apartment. There is only one bathroom, however, and the kitchen isn't huge.
Many thanks to everyone else for their kind remarks.
Anselm
Mar 28th, 2006, 06:51 AM
#39
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Anselm,
(I didn't think it was your real name)
That is truly amazing. I went to St. Pat's, lived on Richard Turner St., off rue de l'Église. Left Quebec City in 1965 and now live in Montreal. Our paths must have crossed as the Anglo population in Quebec City was very small at the time and is even smaller today.
I'm really enjoying your trip report. Like you, I love Paris and have often wondered if having been raised in Q.C. had something to do with it...the same old, narrow streets, the beauty of the fleuve St-Laurent from the Chateau Frontenac, the French restaurants, and so much more.
Ginny
(I didn't think it was your real name)
That is truly amazing. I went to St. Pat's, lived on Richard Turner St., off rue de l'Église. Left Quebec City in 1965 and now live in Montreal. Our paths must have crossed as the Anglo population in Quebec City was very small at the time and is even smaller today.
I'm really enjoying your trip report. Like you, I love Paris and have often wondered if having been raised in Q.C. had something to do with it...the same old, narrow streets, the beauty of the fleuve St-Laurent from the Chateau Frontenac, the French restaurants, and so much more.
Ginny
What a wonderful photo, every whisker! He looks like he can keep a secret 
