elle's Trip Report : Paris est pas mal!
Apr 10th, 2004, 12:00 PM
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elle's Trip Report : Paris est pas mal!
Perhaps the most accurate title for this report would be, "Five nights, two hotels, and four blows to the head." But more on those topics later.
This trip was a last-minute, low-budget trip, purchased on a whim when Air France had an irresistible fare ($276 RT, departing late March, returning early April). We visit Paris fairly frequently and had none of the must-sees--e.g., Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacre Couer, Louvre, Musee D?Orsay--on our list. In fact, we tried not to have A List at all. We were just going to hang out and do whatever Paris (and its weather) wanted us to do.
DAY ONE--Maigret and the Hungry Tourists
Our Air France flight from Philadelphia had a weather delay, so we didn't arrive at our hotel in the Marais until close to noon. Took the Air France bus from CDG to Gare de Lyon (11e each), then a taxi to Hotel du Septieme Art on rue St. Paul, just off rue St. Antoine.
This hotel is cheap (75 euros for double room w/shower) and quite adequate if you're the type of person who pretty much stays out all day and only sleeps at the hotel. We loved the location--on a small street, but just off a major shopping street. The guys who worked at the desk were friendly, helpful. Room was tiny and lacked charm, but it was clean and the bed was comfortable. Bathroom was one of the smallest I've seen in Paris--and I've been in a lot of small bathrooms. Black-and-white tiles that carried the cinema theme of this hotel added the sole touch of charm.
We leave our bags and head out in search of a lunch that has become a sentimental Paris favorite for me--a cheese omelette and a glass of Sylvaner. Within two blocks of our hotel, we run into some friends from work. We knew they were in the Marais and had plans to have dinner with them the following night, but still it was odd to run into them on the street (we had already run into someone my husband knows through work on the plane).
The weather was quite nice, so I really wanted to sit outside at the Place des Vosges. Unfortunately, none of the restaurants there served Sylvaner. C'est la vie. I washed down my omelette fromage with a rose from Provence instead. The restaraunt is called Nectarine and the omelette is not fabulous, but we're in Paris! At the Place des Vosges! Woo-hoo!
As we sit on the east side of the Place des Vosges, I point to a window on the west and tell my husband, "I think that's where Chief Inspector Maigret lived." (Between trips to Paris, I get my fix for the city by reading Georges Simenon's "Maigret" mysteries.) On a previous trip, I have dragged my husband to the places where Maigret worked (the Prefecture de Police and the Palais de Justice) and frequented (the Place Dauphine, where the fictional Brasserie Dauphine was located; Ma Bourgogne on the PDV, which was the fictional tabac). In most of the books, the Maigrets lived on Boulevard Richard Lenoir in the 11eme, but for a brief period they moved to an apartment overlooking the PDV.
After lunch, we walk around the Marais and I realize what a dangerous neighborhood this will be for me. Between the PDV and our hotel, there must be 30 boutiques of various types all calling my name.
We didn't get any sleep on the plane, so eventually we head back to the hotel for a nap before dinner. At the corner of rues St. Paul and St. Antoine, we notice that we are standing in front of a wine bar that has sentimental meaning for us. The Bouquet St. Paul was one of the first places we ate at in Paris during our first trip together after we were married.
After naps and showers, we head for an aperitif to La Tartine, 24 rue de Rivoli, supposedly the oldest wine bar in Paris. We sit on the terrasse and sip--Sancerre for me, Madiran for DH--but when we peak inside at the gorgeous interior, we vow to come back for lunch the next day.
We have dinner at L'Impasse (or, as my husband calls it, "Limp Ass"
, located on a narrow alley off the Place des Voges. It's charming and rustic, with stone walls and heavy wooden beams. As we are sipping our second round of aperos (Monbazaillac; they had no Muscat), my husband points behind me and says something about Maigret. Directly behind my seat is a plaque that reads "Ici vous etes assis a la table du comissiare Maigret" (Here you are seated at the table of Chief Inspector Maigret). I had no idea that there was a Maigret connection at this restaurant! How cool is that?!!
The food is quite good--I have a salad with warm goat cheese, DH has escargots, we both have scallops, and we share a bottle of Quincy. Bread is homemade and yummy. Service is smiling and attentive. My chocolate fondant was just so-so, but DH liked his desert of apples, caramel sauce, and Calvados.
We head back to the hotel and watch a little French TV before falling asleep. Somehow, it seems perfectly natural for the Smurfs to speak French.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
This trip was a last-minute, low-budget trip, purchased on a whim when Air France had an irresistible fare ($276 RT, departing late March, returning early April). We visit Paris fairly frequently and had none of the must-sees--e.g., Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacre Couer, Louvre, Musee D?Orsay--on our list. In fact, we tried not to have A List at all. We were just going to hang out and do whatever Paris (and its weather) wanted us to do.
DAY ONE--Maigret and the Hungry Tourists
Our Air France flight from Philadelphia had a weather delay, so we didn't arrive at our hotel in the Marais until close to noon. Took the Air France bus from CDG to Gare de Lyon (11e each), then a taxi to Hotel du Septieme Art on rue St. Paul, just off rue St. Antoine.
This hotel is cheap (75 euros for double room w/shower) and quite adequate if you're the type of person who pretty much stays out all day and only sleeps at the hotel. We loved the location--on a small street, but just off a major shopping street. The guys who worked at the desk were friendly, helpful. Room was tiny and lacked charm, but it was clean and the bed was comfortable. Bathroom was one of the smallest I've seen in Paris--and I've been in a lot of small bathrooms. Black-and-white tiles that carried the cinema theme of this hotel added the sole touch of charm.
We leave our bags and head out in search of a lunch that has become a sentimental Paris favorite for me--a cheese omelette and a glass of Sylvaner. Within two blocks of our hotel, we run into some friends from work. We knew they were in the Marais and had plans to have dinner with them the following night, but still it was odd to run into them on the street (we had already run into someone my husband knows through work on the plane).
The weather was quite nice, so I really wanted to sit outside at the Place des Vosges. Unfortunately, none of the restaurants there served Sylvaner. C'est la vie. I washed down my omelette fromage with a rose from Provence instead. The restaraunt is called Nectarine and the omelette is not fabulous, but we're in Paris! At the Place des Vosges! Woo-hoo!
As we sit on the east side of the Place des Vosges, I point to a window on the west and tell my husband, "I think that's where Chief Inspector Maigret lived." (Between trips to Paris, I get my fix for the city by reading Georges Simenon's "Maigret" mysteries.) On a previous trip, I have dragged my husband to the places where Maigret worked (the Prefecture de Police and the Palais de Justice) and frequented (the Place Dauphine, where the fictional Brasserie Dauphine was located; Ma Bourgogne on the PDV, which was the fictional tabac). In most of the books, the Maigrets lived on Boulevard Richard Lenoir in the 11eme, but for a brief period they moved to an apartment overlooking the PDV.
After lunch, we walk around the Marais and I realize what a dangerous neighborhood this will be for me. Between the PDV and our hotel, there must be 30 boutiques of various types all calling my name.
We didn't get any sleep on the plane, so eventually we head back to the hotel for a nap before dinner. At the corner of rues St. Paul and St. Antoine, we notice that we are standing in front of a wine bar that has sentimental meaning for us. The Bouquet St. Paul was one of the first places we ate at in Paris during our first trip together after we were married.
After naps and showers, we head for an aperitif to La Tartine, 24 rue de Rivoli, supposedly the oldest wine bar in Paris. We sit on the terrasse and sip--Sancerre for me, Madiran for DH--but when we peak inside at the gorgeous interior, we vow to come back for lunch the next day.
We have dinner at L'Impasse (or, as my husband calls it, "Limp Ass"
, located on a narrow alley off the Place des Voges. It's charming and rustic, with stone walls and heavy wooden beams. As we are sipping our second round of aperos (Monbazaillac; they had no Muscat), my husband points behind me and says something about Maigret. Directly behind my seat is a plaque that reads "Ici vous etes assis a la table du comissiare Maigret" (Here you are seated at the table of Chief Inspector Maigret). I had no idea that there was a Maigret connection at this restaurant! How cool is that?!!The food is quite good--I have a salad with warm goat cheese, DH has escargots, we both have scallops, and we share a bottle of Quincy. Bread is homemade and yummy. Service is smiling and attentive. My chocolate fondant was just so-so, but DH liked his desert of apples, caramel sauce, and Calvados.
We head back to the hotel and watch a little French TV before falling asleep. Somehow, it seems perfectly natural for the Smurfs to speak French.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
Apr 10th, 2004, 01:04 PM
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I think your alternate title would be a good French movie-
Looking forward to the next installment~
and btw-I thought it was weird to watch Bonanza with Hoss speaking French but you are right, Smurfs must speak French!
Looking forward to the next installment~
and btw-I thought it was weird to watch Bonanza with Hoss speaking French but you are right, Smurfs must speak French!
Apr 10th, 2004, 01:58 PM
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More, more! Great read, elle.
My son was just quipping this morning as we were commenting on a recent post about small bathrooms, "Yeah, but after all it (the bathroom) wasn't as small as the elevator." Don't know why, it just struck my funny bone.
Weirdest actor image/sound on French TV: Yummy Tom Sellec in a high pitched voice.
Looking forward to next chapter.
My son was just quipping this morning as we were commenting on a recent post about small bathrooms, "Yeah, but after all it (the bathroom) wasn't as small as the elevator." Don't know why, it just struck my funny bone.
Weirdest actor image/sound on French TV: Yummy Tom Sellec in a high pitched voice.
Looking forward to next chapter.
Apr 10th, 2004, 02:38 PM
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Elle - am enjoying your report and looking forward to the next installment.
It's good to see there are other Maigret fans on the Paris prowl. If you haven't read it - you probably already have, there is a chapter on Maigret's Cafés in Christine Graf's book, "The Cafés of Paris." It covers the area from République to Bastille, a bit more of the Marais, and the Ile-de-la-Cité.
It's good to see there are other Maigret fans on the Paris prowl. If you haven't read it - you probably already have, there is a chapter on Maigret's Cafés in Christine Graf's book, "The Cafés of Paris." It covers the area from République to Bastille, a bit more of the Marais, and the Ile-de-la-Cité.
Apr 11th, 2004, 05:54 AM
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DAY TWO--COFFEE, CHOCOLATE, AND CUBISM
We prefer to have breakfast at a cafe rather than a hotel, and after we see a crew of street sweepers duck into the Bouquet Saint Paul, we figure it?s good enough for us. Yummmm. The cafe noir is soooo excellent.
Another lovely day, weather-wise. We walk down to the Bastille. FNAC is just opening, so we stop in and pick up three discs in their ?Jazz in Paris? series--Miles Davis, Donald Byrd, and Stephane Grappelli. At 7e each and with packaging that features moody scenes of Paris, they make great gifts.
We have a quick espresso, then head for the Musee Picasso. On the way, we come across the market on Boulevard Richard Lenoir--Maigret?s street! We stop to chat with a man who runs a coffee roaster in Montmartre--everything he sells is fairly traded. We buy a bar of dark choclate with cinnamon and eat it on the way to the Musee Picasso.
There?s a temporary exhibition that explores the influence of Ingres on Picasso. It?s interesting to see the evolution from Picasso?s literal interpretations of Ingres? work to the more abstract. I can?t help contrasting the two artists? nudes--Ingres? are sensual in an academic way, Picasso?s are anarchic and joyous. The permanent collection is extensive, and while it doesn?t feature too many Picasso icons, it offers depth in terms of paintings and drawings and breadth in terms of scultpure and ceramics.
We return to La Tartine for lunch. It is really gorgeous inside--all Belle Epoch flowers and curves. DH has charcuterie and cheeses from the Auvergne; I try another omelette. He tries two cru Beaujolais--Chiroubles and Julienas, while I drink a rose from Tourraine. We finish with two espressos. Instead of the usual almond, La Tartine gives you a dark chocolate covered walnut. Yum.
Although this trip is supposed to be all pleasure and no business, DH, who is in the wine biz, cannot resist stopping at a wine store called Caves du Marais for a little research. We spend some time chatting with the owner before purchasing a bottle from a Burgundy family of winemakers that recently expanded operations into Languedoc.
On our way back to the hotel with the bottle, we browse around the shops in Village St. Paul. DH tries to convince me to buy two Danish modern armchairs, but they?re out of our price range even without shipping costs (plus, I think they?re ugly. . . ) Bought a poster that I really liked--it was for a sculpture exposition in a gallery on the Place des Vosges. Also had to take care of a little business back home, so I ducked into an Internet Cafe on rue Charlemagne and bought a little peace of mind for just 1euro 50.
Now it?s time for dessert, which means a trip to the Ile St. Louis for some Berthillon. For me, a double scoop of blood orange and bitter chocolate (when you combine them, it tastes like those chocolate ?oranges? we used to get around Christmas). For DH, cassis.
As we stroll the island, I get the urge to do some shopping. DH opts to wait things out at a cafe. I really didn?t buy much (unfortunately)--just a very cool necklace.
When I rejoin DH at the cafe, I find him involved in a conversation with the two women at a neighboring table--a German woman and an Indian. Apparently, the conversation started out innocently enough, but inevitably led to the question we are tired of answering: "So what do you think of this George Bush and his war?"
We are no great fans of the current administration, but we are getting so tired of answering this question. Maybe we should just do what we saw several (presumably) Americans doing--wear "John Kerry for President" buttons.
For dinner, we met up with our friends and went to Chez Janou. Really, really liked this place. Food and service were good, but what caught me was the lively, convivial atmosphere. The place became very packed, very quickly. They were featuring a special kir of the month--white wine with sweet chestnut liqueur. Between the four of us, we had an excellent seafood risotto, a lamb dish, salt cod, and steak with wonderfully cheesey potatoes. Choosing a wine for all four was not easy (our friends did not want to get two half bottles), but we were all happy with our St. Joseph. Excellent desserts--DH and I shared a creme brulee; our friends shared a pear poached in red wine.
After dinner, we all walked down to the Seine (one of the few glimpses we?d have of the Eiffel Tower on this trip) and then wound up at La Tartine (again!) for a night cap and coffee.
We prefer to have breakfast at a cafe rather than a hotel, and after we see a crew of street sweepers duck into the Bouquet Saint Paul, we figure it?s good enough for us. Yummmm. The cafe noir is soooo excellent.
Another lovely day, weather-wise. We walk down to the Bastille. FNAC is just opening, so we stop in and pick up three discs in their ?Jazz in Paris? series--Miles Davis, Donald Byrd, and Stephane Grappelli. At 7e each and with packaging that features moody scenes of Paris, they make great gifts.
We have a quick espresso, then head for the Musee Picasso. On the way, we come across the market on Boulevard Richard Lenoir--Maigret?s street! We stop to chat with a man who runs a coffee roaster in Montmartre--everything he sells is fairly traded. We buy a bar of dark choclate with cinnamon and eat it on the way to the Musee Picasso.
There?s a temporary exhibition that explores the influence of Ingres on Picasso. It?s interesting to see the evolution from Picasso?s literal interpretations of Ingres? work to the more abstract. I can?t help contrasting the two artists? nudes--Ingres? are sensual in an academic way, Picasso?s are anarchic and joyous. The permanent collection is extensive, and while it doesn?t feature too many Picasso icons, it offers depth in terms of paintings and drawings and breadth in terms of scultpure and ceramics.
We return to La Tartine for lunch. It is really gorgeous inside--all Belle Epoch flowers and curves. DH has charcuterie and cheeses from the Auvergne; I try another omelette. He tries two cru Beaujolais--Chiroubles and Julienas, while I drink a rose from Tourraine. We finish with two espressos. Instead of the usual almond, La Tartine gives you a dark chocolate covered walnut. Yum.
Although this trip is supposed to be all pleasure and no business, DH, who is in the wine biz, cannot resist stopping at a wine store called Caves du Marais for a little research. We spend some time chatting with the owner before purchasing a bottle from a Burgundy family of winemakers that recently expanded operations into Languedoc.
On our way back to the hotel with the bottle, we browse around the shops in Village St. Paul. DH tries to convince me to buy two Danish modern armchairs, but they?re out of our price range even without shipping costs (plus, I think they?re ugly. . . ) Bought a poster that I really liked--it was for a sculpture exposition in a gallery on the Place des Vosges. Also had to take care of a little business back home, so I ducked into an Internet Cafe on rue Charlemagne and bought a little peace of mind for just 1euro 50.
Now it?s time for dessert, which means a trip to the Ile St. Louis for some Berthillon. For me, a double scoop of blood orange and bitter chocolate (when you combine them, it tastes like those chocolate ?oranges? we used to get around Christmas). For DH, cassis.
As we stroll the island, I get the urge to do some shopping. DH opts to wait things out at a cafe. I really didn?t buy much (unfortunately)--just a very cool necklace.
When I rejoin DH at the cafe, I find him involved in a conversation with the two women at a neighboring table--a German woman and an Indian. Apparently, the conversation started out innocently enough, but inevitably led to the question we are tired of answering: "So what do you think of this George Bush and his war?"
We are no great fans of the current administration, but we are getting so tired of answering this question. Maybe we should just do what we saw several (presumably) Americans doing--wear "John Kerry for President" buttons.
For dinner, we met up with our friends and went to Chez Janou. Really, really liked this place. Food and service were good, but what caught me was the lively, convivial atmosphere. The place became very packed, very quickly. They were featuring a special kir of the month--white wine with sweet chestnut liqueur. Between the four of us, we had an excellent seafood risotto, a lamb dish, salt cod, and steak with wonderfully cheesey potatoes. Choosing a wine for all four was not easy (our friends did not want to get two half bottles), but we were all happy with our St. Joseph. Excellent desserts--DH and I shared a creme brulee; our friends shared a pear poached in red wine.
After dinner, we all walked down to the Seine (one of the few glimpses we?d have of the Eiffel Tower on this trip) and then wound up at La Tartine (again!) for a night cap and coffee.
Apr 11th, 2004, 07:27 AM
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Hi elle,
Lovely report.
According to http://forum.europeanservers.net/cgi-bin/v.eur?4021144
It was at
L'impasse (4,impasse Guéménée, IV)ou Maigret se régale de la blanquette à l'ancienne de maman Collard.
Thanks for the tip.
Lovely report.
According to http://forum.europeanservers.net/cgi-bin/v.eur?4021144
It was at
L'impasse (4,impasse Guéménée, IV)ou Maigret se régale de la blanquette à l'ancienne de maman Collard.
Thanks for the tip.
Apr 11th, 2004, 03:15 PM
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DAY THREE--IN WHICH OUR HEROINE TAKES TWO BLOWS TO THE HEAD
As we were getting ready for yet another beautiful, 59-degree (F) day in Paris, I somehow or other managed to bang the bathroom door off the back of my head. L'Ouch!
This time we tried another cafe for breakfast--Le Petit St. Paul. Small, dark, full of locals. Does not really offer a set meal called "Petit Dejeuner", but when we ask the owner for some croissants, he runs across the street to the very good boulangerie called Miss Manon (there are often lines out the front door) and gets us some.
We learned from our friends last night that the local church--St. Paul-St. Louis on rue St. Antoine--has a Delacroix painting, "Christ in the Garden". I don't like Delacroix, but still, it seems a waste not to see it. The church is preparing for Holy Week. I can't quite figure out what the plants are that they will use for their equivalent of Palm Sunday--they're certainly not palms. They look more like boxwood or maybe laurel? Once again, we run into our friends, who were also checking out the Delacroix.
On our way to the Musee Carnavelet, we explore the old Jewish quarter around the rue de Rosiers and rue Pavee (Paris?s first paved street). There's an Art Nouveau synagogue designed by Hector Guimard (the man who designed the fabulous green Metro entrances) on rue Pavee. We didn?t go in, just took some pictures.
Some of the wares in the Judaica stores on the rue de Rosiers are fascinating. Never knew that yamulkes were available with hand-painted images of the Incredible Hulk and Harry Potter. DH gets a craving for pastrami and insists that we come back here for lunch.
Just outside of the Carnavalet, an exasperated-looking French schoolteacher, map in hand, class in tow, approaches me and asks for directions to the Musee Carnavelet (for those who are unfamiliar with the Carnavalet, it?s the history museum of the city of Paris and therefore de rigeur for many French schoolchildren). I tell him that it's right across the street and he and his troops turn on their heels and enter the museum immediately before us. I have no interest in sharing gallery spaces with a bunch of noisy schoolchildren, so we ended up visiting this fascinating place in a somewhat random way, not in the chronological order that probably provides the best context.
Pas de problem--I love this place! The first gallery we went through featured a display of tradesmen?s signs and advertisements. Very cool. When we went upstairs we landed in the midst of Versailles-era splendor. One of my favorite things was a late 17th-century "niche-de-chien"--basically, a very fancy dog bed, draped with silk curtains. From the Louis XIV era, we somehow travelled forward to the time of Louis XVI and the Revolution, then back to Henri IV (My favorite French king--I have Huguenot blood), then to some medieval rooms before winding up somehow (we may have taken some stairs) among artifacts of the Napoleonic era.
Then came my favorite parts--the Second Empire (rule of Napoleon III) through to the early 20th century. Don?t look for any great works by celebrated painters here--they?re all at other museums. Instead, the paintings collection features mosty genre scenes of domestic interiors, fashion, and social activities. It may not be great art, but I loved it!
There are also some period interior installations of note--Proust's bedroom, a more humble room from a policeman?s home, and the piece-de-resistance--the fabulous exterior and interior of the Art Nouveau-style Fouquet jewelry store. Oh la la la la. We were enthralled, and if my husband?s stomach hadn't been murmuring "pastrami pastrami" I could have stayed here longer.
I did check out the gift shop--which was just about to close for lunch--and saw a gorgeous firefly bracelet based on one of Fouquet?s designs. I promised I'd come back and buy it, but never did. One of my great regrets of the trip.
As we were getting ready for yet another beautiful, 59-degree (F) day in Paris, I somehow or other managed to bang the bathroom door off the back of my head. L'Ouch!
This time we tried another cafe for breakfast--Le Petit St. Paul. Small, dark, full of locals. Does not really offer a set meal called "Petit Dejeuner", but when we ask the owner for some croissants, he runs across the street to the very good boulangerie called Miss Manon (there are often lines out the front door) and gets us some.
We learned from our friends last night that the local church--St. Paul-St. Louis on rue St. Antoine--has a Delacroix painting, "Christ in the Garden". I don't like Delacroix, but still, it seems a waste not to see it. The church is preparing for Holy Week. I can't quite figure out what the plants are that they will use for their equivalent of Palm Sunday--they're certainly not palms. They look more like boxwood or maybe laurel? Once again, we run into our friends, who were also checking out the Delacroix.
On our way to the Musee Carnavelet, we explore the old Jewish quarter around the rue de Rosiers and rue Pavee (Paris?s first paved street). There's an Art Nouveau synagogue designed by Hector Guimard (the man who designed the fabulous green Metro entrances) on rue Pavee. We didn?t go in, just took some pictures.
Some of the wares in the Judaica stores on the rue de Rosiers are fascinating. Never knew that yamulkes were available with hand-painted images of the Incredible Hulk and Harry Potter. DH gets a craving for pastrami and insists that we come back here for lunch.
Just outside of the Carnavalet, an exasperated-looking French schoolteacher, map in hand, class in tow, approaches me and asks for directions to the Musee Carnavelet (for those who are unfamiliar with the Carnavalet, it?s the history museum of the city of Paris and therefore de rigeur for many French schoolchildren). I tell him that it's right across the street and he and his troops turn on their heels and enter the museum immediately before us. I have no interest in sharing gallery spaces with a bunch of noisy schoolchildren, so we ended up visiting this fascinating place in a somewhat random way, not in the chronological order that probably provides the best context.
Pas de problem--I love this place! The first gallery we went through featured a display of tradesmen?s signs and advertisements. Very cool. When we went upstairs we landed in the midst of Versailles-era splendor. One of my favorite things was a late 17th-century "niche-de-chien"--basically, a very fancy dog bed, draped with silk curtains. From the Louis XIV era, we somehow travelled forward to the time of Louis XVI and the Revolution, then back to Henri IV (My favorite French king--I have Huguenot blood), then to some medieval rooms before winding up somehow (we may have taken some stairs) among artifacts of the Napoleonic era.
Then came my favorite parts--the Second Empire (rule of Napoleon III) through to the early 20th century. Don?t look for any great works by celebrated painters here--they?re all at other museums. Instead, the paintings collection features mosty genre scenes of domestic interiors, fashion, and social activities. It may not be great art, but I loved it!
There are also some period interior installations of note--Proust's bedroom, a more humble room from a policeman?s home, and the piece-de-resistance--the fabulous exterior and interior of the Art Nouveau-style Fouquet jewelry store. Oh la la la la. We were enthralled, and if my husband?s stomach hadn't been murmuring "pastrami pastrami" I could have stayed here longer.
I did check out the gift shop--which was just about to close for lunch--and saw a gorgeous firefly bracelet based on one of Fouquet?s designs. I promised I'd come back and buy it, but never did. One of my great regrets of the trip.
Apr 11th, 2004, 03:20 PM
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MORE DAY THREE
Back to the rue de Rosiers. Sobering reminders of the plight of Jews in Paris (and the world. . .) There?s a plaque outside a school that reads: "165 Jewish children from this school, deported to Germany during World War II, were exterminated in Nazi camps." DH balks at the idea of having his pastrami at Jo Goldenberg--where PLO gunmen killed six customers in 1982--so instead we go to a place called--believe it or not--Hollywood Bagel.
I have no interest in having deli food in Paris, so afterwards we head to a cafe called L'Escurial on the rue de Turenne for crepes. We sit outside, near the door. As we enjoy our crepes and Beaujolais, an elderly woman with a cane approaches. She is trying to go inside, but has difficulty negotiating the small step. As she tries to get her balance, her cane flies up into the air and--whap!--into the back of my head. I see etoiles.
After I regain consciousness (just kidding), we head across town. Our ultimate destination is the (relatively) new Lavinia wine store on boulevard Madeline in the 8eme. The walk takes us across the 1er and 2eme. On the rue St. Honore, near the Louve and Palais-Royal, we spy Cafe Verlet, a brulerie (coffee roaster) that has been in business since 1880. Dark and cozy, Cafe Verlet has an awesome selection of varietal beans as well as blends. We each drink a tasse there (the dark, smoky Melange Romaine for me, and Ethiopian Sidamo for DH) and then purchase some beans of their seasonal blend in attractive Cafe Verlet tins as gifts.
After all that coffee, we needed to cleanse our palates. So we went to Collette (kind of a cross between Barneys and Urban Outfitters) to check out the Water Bar in the basement.) First, we try an excellent, clean-tasting still water from Rockhead Spring in Great Britain called--fittingly and with more than a touch of irony--H2O. Then we had a Welsh water called Tau (made by the Tynant people) that I really didn't like. It was far too heavy on the minerals, with a major mettalic aftertaste.
Collette has intelligently placed its restrooms just off the Water Bar. But instead of the standard "Toilettes" or even "W.C." signage, the signs say (in English and probably intentionally bad): "Where is pipi?" and "For pipi, it is here". We find this hysterically funny and it becomes one of the buzz phrases of our trip. In fact, my husband wants to put a "For pipi, it is here" sign over our toilet at home.
Back to the rue de Rosiers. Sobering reminders of the plight of Jews in Paris (and the world. . .) There?s a plaque outside a school that reads: "165 Jewish children from this school, deported to Germany during World War II, were exterminated in Nazi camps." DH balks at the idea of having his pastrami at Jo Goldenberg--where PLO gunmen killed six customers in 1982--so instead we go to a place called--believe it or not--Hollywood Bagel.
I have no interest in having deli food in Paris, so afterwards we head to a cafe called L'Escurial on the rue de Turenne for crepes. We sit outside, near the door. As we enjoy our crepes and Beaujolais, an elderly woman with a cane approaches. She is trying to go inside, but has difficulty negotiating the small step. As she tries to get her balance, her cane flies up into the air and--whap!--into the back of my head. I see etoiles.
After I regain consciousness (just kidding), we head across town. Our ultimate destination is the (relatively) new Lavinia wine store on boulevard Madeline in the 8eme. The walk takes us across the 1er and 2eme. On the rue St. Honore, near the Louve and Palais-Royal, we spy Cafe Verlet, a brulerie (coffee roaster) that has been in business since 1880. Dark and cozy, Cafe Verlet has an awesome selection of varietal beans as well as blends. We each drink a tasse there (the dark, smoky Melange Romaine for me, and Ethiopian Sidamo for DH) and then purchase some beans of their seasonal blend in attractive Cafe Verlet tins as gifts.
After all that coffee, we needed to cleanse our palates. So we went to Collette (kind of a cross between Barneys and Urban Outfitters) to check out the Water Bar in the basement.) First, we try an excellent, clean-tasting still water from Rockhead Spring in Great Britain called--fittingly and with more than a touch of irony--H2O. Then we had a Welsh water called Tau (made by the Tynant people) that I really didn't like. It was far too heavy on the minerals, with a major mettalic aftertaste.
Collette has intelligently placed its restrooms just off the Water Bar. But instead of the standard "Toilettes" or even "W.C." signage, the signs say (in English and probably intentionally bad): "Where is pipi?" and "For pipi, it is here". We find this hysterically funny and it becomes one of the buzz phrases of our trip. In fact, my husband wants to put a "For pipi, it is here" sign over our toilet at home.
Apr 11th, 2004, 03:24 PM
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DAY THREE, CONCLUDED
During the next leg of the walk, as we headed toward the Place Vendome, we observed a rare species: the stereotypically chic Parisienne. Bone thin, wearing a fitted boucle suit that screamed Chanel, with bubble-gum pink opaque stockings (a fashion risk that paid off), stilleto heels, carrying not a poodle but a chiuhuahua. I dunno. Something about her said "courtesan" to me.
Lavinia is a veritable supermarche of wine. Huge, but with a selection that is not as deep as it is broad. There are some inexpensive wines, but many things seem over-priced, especially the eaux-de-vies. DH buys a wine from Palette that he has been looking for--Chateau Simone. Then we go upstairs to the wine bar where I have a glass of Champagne and he has a foie gras snack washed down with a Coteaux de Provence. The bathrooms at Lavinia are gorgeous--they look out over a courtyard. Definitely no "For pipi, it is here" vibe.
For dinner that night, I?m jonesin' for my favorite dish--a roast chicken. My oh-so-sophisticated husband usually scoffs at me for this, but we have found that the roast chicken can be a good indicator of the quality of a restaurant. Those who take care with this simple dish seem to apply equal care to the rest of the menu. I remember enjoying the chicken at Bouquet St. Paul several years ago, so we head there. I am not disappointed. Neither is DH, who enjoys very garlicky escargots and a good steak. We share a 2000 Mercurey. BTW, this simple place also has a lovely interior. I don't think we realized it the last time we had dinner there (it does get crowded and noisy), but when we had breakfast, we could really see just how charming it was.
The young French couple at the next table strikes up a conversation with us. They live in the neighborhood and told us that they had originally hoped to dine at L'Enoteca, the excellent Italian wine bar near our hotel, but they did not reserve, so they were unable to get in. We were hoping to have dinner there one night, so I make a mental note: must reserve.
Before heading back, we do stop in L'Enoteca. The bartender is French but his Italian is terrific (he?s also really, really cute). I have a glass of moscato from Sicily, DH has a Barbaresco. They give us little packs of grissini to accompany our wines, but then the manager sees that I?m drinking a sweet wine and quickly fetches some biscotti for me. Tired and a bit tipsy, we leave WITHOUT MAKING A RESERVATION FOR THE NEXT NIGHT.
During the next leg of the walk, as we headed toward the Place Vendome, we observed a rare species: the stereotypically chic Parisienne. Bone thin, wearing a fitted boucle suit that screamed Chanel, with bubble-gum pink opaque stockings (a fashion risk that paid off), stilleto heels, carrying not a poodle but a chiuhuahua. I dunno. Something about her said "courtesan" to me.
Lavinia is a veritable supermarche of wine. Huge, but with a selection that is not as deep as it is broad. There are some inexpensive wines, but many things seem over-priced, especially the eaux-de-vies. DH buys a wine from Palette that he has been looking for--Chateau Simone. Then we go upstairs to the wine bar where I have a glass of Champagne and he has a foie gras snack washed down with a Coteaux de Provence. The bathrooms at Lavinia are gorgeous--they look out over a courtyard. Definitely no "For pipi, it is here" vibe.
For dinner that night, I?m jonesin' for my favorite dish--a roast chicken. My oh-so-sophisticated husband usually scoffs at me for this, but we have found that the roast chicken can be a good indicator of the quality of a restaurant. Those who take care with this simple dish seem to apply equal care to the rest of the menu. I remember enjoying the chicken at Bouquet St. Paul several years ago, so we head there. I am not disappointed. Neither is DH, who enjoys very garlicky escargots and a good steak. We share a 2000 Mercurey. BTW, this simple place also has a lovely interior. I don't think we realized it the last time we had dinner there (it does get crowded and noisy), but when we had breakfast, we could really see just how charming it was.
The young French couple at the next table strikes up a conversation with us. They live in the neighborhood and told us that they had originally hoped to dine at L'Enoteca, the excellent Italian wine bar near our hotel, but they did not reserve, so they were unable to get in. We were hoping to have dinner there one night, so I make a mental note: must reserve.
Before heading back, we do stop in L'Enoteca. The bartender is French but his Italian is terrific (he?s also really, really cute). I have a glass of moscato from Sicily, DH has a Barbaresco. They give us little packs of grissini to accompany our wines, but then the manager sees that I?m drinking a sweet wine and quickly fetches some biscotti for me. Tired and a bit tipsy, we leave WITHOUT MAKING A RESERVATION FOR THE NEXT NIGHT.
Apr 11th, 2004, 03:27 PM
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Maison Metz--I do have that book! One of the first things I did when we got home was to look and see if it mentioned L'Impasse (it didn't).
ira--thanks for that link. I hope it directs me to the Maigret book that features Maman and L'Impasse.
Apr 13th, 2004, 11:22 PM
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elle, I only counted two blows to the head??? But I am sure they were no fault of your own. I just went to Paris with a coworker, who is a bit of a bimbo....one day we were walking down the street and I heard a loud CLANG!...I turned and saw her holding her head. She had walked into a stoplight!!
Anyway, elle, please do drop me a line at [email protected] and I will send you a link to my marathon photos.
Thanks for an enjoyable read!
Anyway, elle, please do drop me a line at [email protected] and I will send you a link to my marathon photos.
Thanks for an enjoyable read!
Apr 13th, 2004, 11:51 PM
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Tour de France Route -
If there are any Fodorites heading for France in July to see the most exciting race in the world, especially this year, please can you tell me, how do you get to know which roads will be used? I'ts easy enough finding out the towns, but looking at a map of France there are several choices of roads. Seeing we will be there in June with a car it would be nice to travel some of the route beforehand. Can anyone help?
If there are any Fodorites heading for France in July to see the most exciting race in the world, especially this year, please can you tell me, how do you get to know which roads will be used? I'ts easy enough finding out the towns, but looking at a map of France there are several choices of roads. Seeing we will be there in June with a car it would be nice to travel some of the route beforehand. Can anyone help?
Apr 14th, 2004, 03:08 AM
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elle, wonderful trip report; one I can relate
to. There was a shop called Les Eclaireurs
that I loved last fall; it is quite unique.
I'm printing out some of your recommendations for our next Paris trip, we only discovered les Marais on our last trip and spent only a few hours there.
to. There was a shop called Les Eclaireurs
that I loved last fall; it is quite unique.
I'm printing out some of your recommendations for our next Paris trip, we only discovered les Marais on our last trip and spent only a few hours there.
Apr 14th, 2004, 05:35 AM
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Had to take a breather, here (good heavens, I can be long-winded).
Don't worry--there are two more days (and two more blows to someone's head--not necessarily mine. Can you stand the suspense.
MelissaHI, as soon as I scan those marathon photos, I'll e-mail them to you. You weren't the person in the chariot, were you?
