Paris Journal 2008

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After having to deal with the Champs Elysées the other day, yesterday evening we wanted to walk in a real neighborhood so we walked all the way down through the 15^th arrondissement on the avenue Felix Faure and back up the rue St. Charles. On the rue St. Charles, we discovered a Lidl store. I thought these stores only existed out in the near suburbs. I see their chaotic ads in the TV magazine that comes out on Fridays with Le Parisien. It is like a Big Lots store, with both food and housewares. I notice the ads because of the ridiculously low prices. Tom wanted to go inside, so we did, but all we did was look. The store is as chaotic as the ads, but it looks like it might be fun to shop there sometime. Before that, we had stopped in a Cuilinarian store on the rue du Commerce. It is going out of business, and we can understand why. This kitchen/cooking supply store does not really have what real cooks want or need. This is a formula retail store that has its formula all wrong. Even with the drastic markdowns, the few items remaining in the store were still overpriced and not very useful. I had stopped in there before and I was really disappointed; Tom had not been in there yet, so we did stop. I couldn’t stand it for very long so I left Tom there while I went to look at a nearby jewelry shop. So once again, we liked the shopping on the rue St. Charles much more than on the rue du Commerce. When we were almost back up to the avenue Emile Zola, we noticed a restaurant called La Cour Saint-Charles at 99 rue St. Charles (telephone 01-45-78-21-41). It appears to be fairly new, maybe only a couple years old. It isn’t small, and it has some booths so you aren’t packed in there at tiny tables so close together that a fire marshal might have a tantrum if he happened by. And the restaurant has a terrace in the middle of it, protected from the street noise (not that the rue St. Charles is noisy). The menu is traditional, and the prices are very reasonable. We were hungry, so we entered at 8PM and became the first clients of the evening. Since there were no other people in the place and since I was wearing my Obama button, Monsieur came over to talk with us. He asked if we thought Obama was going to win. We told him the results of the latest polls. Monsieur speaks no English, so all of this was in French. Monsieur was curiously interested in where Obama’s money comes from. I explained that he is a lawyer, but he did not work in a law firm for very long. I told Monsieur that Obama has a salary as a Senator, but that before he became a politician he had been a community organizer in the poor and working-class neighborhoods of Chicago. Then I realized that Monsieur probably was wondering where the money for the campaign comes from. I don’t think politicians in France raise money for campaigns the way that American politicians do. What money is spent may come, in large part, from the French politician’s own pocket. Then I realized that this is a wonderful opportunity to tell a French person how significant the fundraising for the Obama campaign really is – that for the first time, small donations have been received from a hugely unprecedented LARGE number of ordinary people like us. I explained that there is so much money given by so many ordinary people that it has made the money from big corporations irrelevant. I said to Monsieur, you know, Obama will be here, in Paris, on Friday. This fact Monsieur already knew. He spoke of his concern for Obama in regard to security. He is worried that a crazy person might try to kill him because he is black and charismatic – just as a crazy person killed Kennedy. I said that yes, this is a concern, but that we must not worry so much about that, and it is important to keep moving forward – not to be paralyzed by fear. Monsieur spoke at length about Sarkozy. I asked him what he thought of Segolene Royal. We talked about her for a while, concluding that while we supported her before the election, she now was sounding bitter and paranoid in her criticisms of Sarko and his gang. The food was traditional, correctly prepared, good, and somewhat copious. I had six escargots that were done perfectly, served in the shells in plenty of melted garlic-and-herb butter. Tom had melon with ham as a first course. It was presented beautifully and it included a generous amount of prosciutto-style ham. The bread was good and fresh. Tom’s main course was a souris d’agneau, which literally means “mouse of lamb.” The gastronomic dictionary, The A-Z of French Food, has this to say about “souris”: “Small round muscle at the knuckle end of a leg of mutton [lamb], considered a delicate morsel. The allusion to a mouse is not as curious as it may seem, as the word ‘muscle’ (the same in French and English) comes from the Latin word ‘musculus’ (small rat).” In fancier restaurants, we’ve had this dish served where the meat has been removed from the bone, and it appears on the plate in small round, mouse-sized disks. Here, however, food is country style and so Tom had the whole souris, bone and all. It came with puréed potatoes, and it was delicious. I had l’émincée de veau, which is thin slices of veal. In this case, the slices were sautéed with wild mushrooms and served with a rich sauce, all surrounded by sautéed potatoes – way too many sautéed potatoes! But the food was good, especially those mushrooms. Yum. While I had wanted to have the moelleux au chocolat for dessert, that was just too much after this main course (even though I only consumed a tenth of the potatoes served to me), so I ordered a crème brulée and Tom had the spice cake with ice cream. The cake was served in layers with balls of ice cream in between, giving it a precarious leaning tower of Pisa look when it arrived at the table. The three course dinner was €24 per person. Of course, it isn’t necessary to order all three courses, especially because the servings here are so large. Now we know that . . . . The restaurant has a window looking into the kitchen from the sizeable dining room. This is not typically French. But I like it; it means they have nothing to hide in the kitchen. So I could see the chef and the plongeur. The chef was very professionally attired, and he had long, thick curly black hair tied back in a pony tail. His very dark skin (Bangladeshi? Southern Indian?) contrasted with his crisp white hat and immaculate white chef’s jacket. The plongeur (dishwasher, floor mopper, assistant) was a tall, athletic-looking black man. The kitchen was clean, well lit, and very orderly. This place, like Le Basilic, is run by efficient, knowledgeable men who are serious about good, French country-style cuisine served in generous portions, with an emphasis on meat. Monsieur came back to talk with us between courses. I mentioned that within the next couple weeks, Obama must choose his vice presidential candidate. Monsieur said that everyone in France thinks it will be Hillary Clinton. I told him that I did not think so. I mentioned that it would be perhaps Evan Bayh, or somebody similar. Of course Monsieur has never heard of Evan Bayh. Monsieur asked me if I had been for Hillary Clinton before the primary. I told him that my choice had been Obama ever since he visited our area, on March 31, 2006, and I had the opportunity to meet him. There were sixteen of us, I explained, and Obama entered the room. He spoke with each person, with no preparation, and we could tell that he was listening intently. He gave an impromptu talk, and then once again had each person in the room speak about what issues are most important. He responded to each one knowledgeably and eloquently, even though he had no idea what subjects we would raise. Face to face, he seems very real, I told Monsieur, unlike other politicians. At that time, he wasn’t yet a presidential candidate, although there were many rumors starting up that he might become one. I told Monsieur I became an Obama supporter right then and there, because I was so impressed by him at this early date. Toward the end of our dinner, other clients had entered the restaurant, as I expected they would. Business is slow on Monday evenings during vacation time, especially in this non-touristy area. A slow Monday was the perfect time to make a new friend. The Obama button is a real ice-breaker. I must remember to wear it every time I leave the apartment. Another reason I like to wear it is that it announces that I am American, not English. I have nothing against the English; in fact, I like them very much. But I want the French to know I’m American, because I sense that it makes a difference to them. I do not understand all the reasons for this preference for Americans that the French seem to have, but I suspect it is steeped in several hundred years of history. Anti-Americanism in France? Au contraire. I think they love us, even if they don’t love George Bush. Right now, they don’t love their own president, either. Sarko is way down in the approval ratings. So we have even more in common with our French friends this year, as compared to recent years.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008 Obama’s books appear in the front windows of bookstores throughout Paris. Detail from the Hotel de Cluny. Carving in the church St. Etienne du Mont. Obama and me at a gathering in the Sanibel Harbor Resort on March 31, 2006. Mime on Montmartre. The Ste. Clotilde Basilica, in the 7^th arrondissement. The restaurant, Le Basilic, is behind this ediface. View from Montmartre. Sign my guestbook. View my guestbook.

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