Paris Journal 2009 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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Drat. The overvalued euro is going in the wrong
direction again. Well, at least we are
all paid up on our rent for the summer. As I mentioned,
we buy almost nothing in Europe, except for restaurant meals. One day we were, however, attracted by a
big sign outside a large florist shop that we frequently pass going back and
forth between our two neighborhoods. Monceau Fleurs
displayed a banner promoting orchids for only 9.9 euros. This was the day I was carrying a large,
heavy bag from the apartment in the 6th to the one in the 15th,
so I elected to sit on a nice park bench while Tom went in to select an
orchid. He loves them even more than I
do. A few years
ago, we bought an orchid for the apartment in the 15th. The owners kept it for a few years,
surprised that it didn’t die. But this
year it was gone, and we missed it. So here’s the
new orchid, already re-potted into a real clay pot rather than the disgusting
clear plastic thing that came with it. For some
acquisitions we pay nothing. You might
recall that I mentioned Tom rescuing a discarded kilim from the sidewalk on
the rue du Theatre. We washed it,
dried it in the sun, and discussed its future. I remembered
Elisabeth (owner of the apartment in the 6th) showing me a chest
of three drawers in a shop window. She
said she wanted drawers like that for part of her new kitchen in the smaller,
studio apartment. The drawer
fronts consisted of horizontal strips of wood on the top and bottom, and a
fabric insert through the middle. The
fabric used on the drawers in the shop window was too cheap, we both agreed. I realized that
in the kilim, the strips of sumac, or soumak, handwoven by women and children
in a Baluch tribal area of Afghanistan or Iran no doubt, would be perfect for
these drawer-fronts. While the kilim
was very worn overall, the sumac strips were in fairly good shape. There were also signs that someone had
cared for the kilim over the years; repairs had been made to the edges in
some places. I didn’t photograph it;
it was a difficult image to capture. We told Ron and
Elisabeth about the kilim and my idea for its use before hauling it over
there. Elisabeth indeed seemed to like
the idea. So we took it over, and yes,
she wanted it. We felt relief
that the many hours spent on weaving were not
going to be discarded in a landfill or trash-burning plant outside of
Paris. The hours of work by Baluch
women are going on to live a new life as part of a creation by two talented
American designers in Paris. Like father,
like son. Yesterday evening, and Tom,
Dan, Mary and I walked to Le Basilic for dinner, we passed some boxes on the
sidewalk. These were also destined for
the landfill. Mostly, the
boxes contained board games. The one
on top was some kind of French version of Clue. Third down in the stack was a British board
game, the name of which I cannot remember.
Dan and Mary selected these two for keeping, and we went on to the
restaurant. Ah, the joys of
trashpicking in Paris. On to the joys
of dining in Paris. Jim H. sent
this link to a fascinating article about the detrimental effects of the red
Michelin guide. I think there is a
huge amount of truth in it. Although I
examined the red guide a decade ago, now I would never consult it, because if
I did, we’d never find the good restaurants we’ve found. Le Basilic, for
example. They men who run this
restaurant would have no interest whatsoever in what the Michelin red guide
would have to say about them. While
I’m sure we would have found Le Basilic anyway, the way we actually found it
was when our friend Jerry from Berkeley, CA, suggested it as a place to meet
for dinner one evening. He was here
visiting a Parisian friend who lives in the 7th arrondissement,
and this is one of her favorite places. Last night, we
went there at Dan and Mary’s request.
They have fond memories of dining there with us year before last. Tucked away on
a back street behind the Sainte-Clotilde basilica, this restaurant does not
advertise and does not have a web site.
It does not offer a menu in English. Last night, and
the last time we ate there before last night, we were the only native
speakers of English in the place. Last
night, it was packed full of people who appeared to be upper-middle-class
residents of the neighborhood, the toney and ultra-secure 7th
arrondissement. A large table
of about fourteen young men in their twenties was near ours. The guys were all having fun, but in
measured tones and while speaking very good French. They were all well-mannered. Several had arrived on motorcycles, and
they placed their helmets on two parallel brass bars that were meant merely
for decoration, but that were perfect for holding round helmets where they
would not roll away or take up useful dining space. This restaurant
is not trendy, and the cuisine is traditional country French but not
pretentious. It is simple, good
food. The specialty, leg of lamb
served with large white beans in a red sauce, is what Mary, Dan and I
ordered. Tom ate carpaccio de boeuf, which he said was delicious. Mary also consumed a dozen very large
Burgundy escargots. Tom and I shared
an appetizer of tiny raviolis in a creamy, white garlic sauce. This restaurant does not spare the garlic,
I’m happy to say. I was given a spoon so
I could capture every bit of the sauce. This restaurant
does not serve inexpensive wine in pitchers or carafes. If you want wine, you order a bottle. That’s just the way it is done at Le
Basilic. Yet, on the
mirror behind the bar, the restaurant calls itself a “Brasserie.” I wouldn’t call it that, but the bar is
sizeable (and handsome, with its dark wood) and beer is most definitely
served, especially to young men like the guys near us. I’m still in
the process of revising my
restaurant recommendations, by the way.
I keep posting the revisions, so by the end of the summer, the whole
document may be different. I spent
some time yesterday updating my
Google map that shows the restaurant locations. I played around with Google maps while I
did that, and I was amazed to discover the street view photographs,
individuals’ photos, and other features.
Try it sometime. |
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A Ford Mustang parked at the intersection of the
avenues Suffren and de la Motte-Picquet – an unexpected sight in Paris. The top photo was taken without a flash.
Motorcycle helmets resting on decorative brass bars in
Le Basilic.
The water garden on the south side of the UNESCO
site. Below, duck in the water garden,
and duckling to her left.
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