Paris Journal 2011 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com

Photos and thoughts about Paris

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Cool, windy, and occasionally rainy weather could not contain us. It was Sunday, and we were determined to take our walk along the Seine. Not many other people joined us. Of the voices we heard among our neighboring pedestrians were many young, American ones. You’d think the British would have no problem with this kind of weather – they’re used to it, right? But maybe the windiness was their nemesis. They weren’t out walking with us. Having resided in the past where winters can often be cruel and harsh, and mostly residing now where rain often comes in sheets of water, where hurricanes happen, and where humidity and bugs are about as bad as they can be, this weather was almost a treat for us. I admit that having a bit less wind would have been good, but for walking, this weather wasn’t bad at all. I do not understand why so few others in Paris agree with us. There were a few joggers taking advantage of the temperatures, but not anywhere near as many as I’d expect to see in a city such as this, so replete with trim and fit folks. We started with a walk through the open-air market under the elevated train on the boulevard de Grenelle. That place was buzzing and full of shoppers trying to take advantage of the last hour of the market’s operation for the day. We were surprised by the high prices placed on many items in the market. We aren’t sure why so many people shop there. At the end of the boulevard, you can sense the increasing elevation as you walk toward the Seine. On this side of the river, you walk up to it. On the opposite side, you walk down a good-size hill to the river. But here, in the 15^th, we reside in the former swamp known as Grenelle, which probably originally meant something like “meadow full of frogs,” or grenouilles. So up to the riverbank we climbed. Turning right, we walked along the top of the embankment which hosts a wide, park-like, tree-lined pathway between and parallel to the Quai de Grenelle and the Port de Suffren along the river. Once we were a bit past the Eiffel Tower and the Trocadero, near the Pont d’Iena, we descended to the riverbank level, using the road that is mercifully free of cars on Sundays. From here to the Port Solferino will soon become permanent for pedestrians, and will be forevermore forbidden for cars. At least, we hope so. We will see this work being done over the next couple of years. Now is the time for me to write to Mayor Bertrand Delanoe to tell him that I think among the amenagements included in this upcoming project should be lots and lots of those green wooden park benches like the ones in the Paris parks. When we’ve been walking for hours, these benches are an essential part of resting a bit so we have the strength to carry on. We crossed to the other side on the Passerelle Debilly to see if we could visit with the cat who lives on the boat called the Julia, which is almost always tied up there on the Port Debilly. When we reached that Port, the skies rained down upon us. Up went our umbrellas. And the cat was nowhere to be seen. Crossing back over, battling the stiff wind that rode over the river, we were determined to continue. At Solferino, when the pedestrianized section of road ended, we crossed to the right bank and walked on the cobblestones until we reached the Pont Neuf. We needed to use the facilities, and Tom needed coffee at least, so we took the bridge halfway, to the Île de la Cité, where we entered the Place Dauphine. The restaurants looked inviting; suddenly we were hungry for lunch. But it was 2:40PM, and the first place we stopped, an old favorite called Le Caveau du Palais, turned us away. Servers said it was too late for lunch. The patronne was not there that day. Only her young staff, who were anxious to go home, I think. That was okay with me. I understand. Besides, I wanted to check out Restaurant Paul, next door – a place we’d seen last year and we’d found attractive, but it was closed for vacation by the time we discovered it. Voila. Restaurant Paul was open. I entered and asked politely in French if it was too late for lunch. The young server answered me with such fast, smooshed-together words that I did not understand her, except that she said “rapidement” (rapidly) and that her answer did not mean yes, and it did not mean no. I stood there looking slightly confused and stunned for a brief moment. Then the elegant, slim little man behind her spoke up in the Queen’s English and said yes, we were invited to come in and dine. I’m not sure what this 50-something year-old man did earlier in his career, but I’m sure he was not running restaurants – although he’s doing a great job of it here. His voice was exceptional, even when he spoke. But I heard him humming later, and he even sang a couple notes. Operatic. Gorgeous sound. He seems to have trained as a singer, and he carries himself like a dancer. This Restaurant Paul, the internet tells me, is part of a chain! Or rather, a franchise operation. You’d never guess it from its appearance and operation. The menu of the day is written by hand on chalkboards and on the mirrored wall in the cozy main dining room. There were a few tables out on the terrace on the Place Dauphine. Dining outside on this Place in better weather would be good, because you simply don’t have to put up with automobile exhaust and horns there. Inside is a narrow bar area, which you pass through to reach the main room. Along the way is an ancient, steep, narrow wooden stairway leading up to an ancillary dining room with about 5 tables and the restroom. This would be a good place for a big family dinner. The main dining room, where we were seated, is welcoming, clean as a whistle, and comfy. It faces the Quai des Orfèvres. There is a door on that side, so it may be possible to enter from that street – I’m not sure. The special of the day was confit de canard. In fact, duck seems to be a specialty of the house, judging from the reviews on various web sites. In the interest of rapidity, which our server had asked us to practice when we entered, we obediently decided quickly. I ordered the confit de canard, and Tom ordered a country terrine. We reasoned that ordering the daily special plus something that was already prepared like terrine, we were making it very easy on the kitchen staff who were no doubt itching to go home. The server brought the entire loaf of terrine out and sliced it in front of Tom. Nice. He received two thick slices. I haven’t ordered confit de canard in quite a while because the last several times I had it, it had been desiccated in the cooking process. But here, at Restaurant Paul, it was scrumptious. This can be a difficult dish to get right – crispy on the outside, but warm, tender and moist on the inside. Hooray for Restaurant Paul’s staff! They did it absolutely right. It was delicious. And it came with tasty sautéed potatoes, which of course I shared with Tom. He also let me try his terrine, which was very, very good. I like the little pickles that come with it. By the time we were eating, only one other table was occupied – a seemingly well-to-do Parisian family of four. The weather was looking a little more threatening after this late lunch, so we walked home via the streets of the left bank, starting with the rue Guénégaud and the rue Callot, where we saw some strange sites, such as an unsual Venus de Milo statue by Arman. The walk also included Tom’s favorite rue Jacob/rue de l’Université. By staying on the city streets instead of walking along the Seine, we had multiple doorways to duck into in case the rain became more violent. But it didn’t. We carried on in intermittent drizzle and a little real rain until we reached our trendy-but-not-touristy neighborhood, stopping to buy bread at the organic bakery on the corner. Reaching home in time to catch the end of the day’s Tour de France stage, we collapsed into a long, slow, cozy evening of reading. Sign my guestbook. View my guestbook. Note: For addresses & phone numbers of restaurants in this journal, click here.

Monday, July 18, 2011 Another Carmona statue on the left bank of the Seine; this one is close to the Eiffel Tower. Flowers gracing a window on the rue Guénegaud in the 6^th arrondissement. Below, another window and door on the same block. A deconstructed Venus de Milo statue (c. 1992) by Armand Pierre Fernandez (Arman), on the rue Callot. Confit de Canard at Restaurant Paul, on the Place Dauphine on the Île de la Cité. Tom likes these curtains at the Pierre Frey shop on rue Jacob. Earrings that I like in the Gaggio shop on rue Jacob. Medal on display at the Hotel des Monnaies on rue Guénégaud, with the opposite side of the street reflected in the window. ← Previous Next →