Paris Journal 2010 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com

Photos and thoughts about Paris

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Sunday is a day for walking and shooting pictures and having Sunday dinner. We began with our long walk along the Seine. Just as we started out, on the rue du Commerce, we were surprised to see a police car zooming down the street, lights flashing, and stopping at a building across from us. So I got the camera out and we sat across the street and just a distance away (in case there was any shooting of another kind). An ambulance came, and a paddy wagon, then another police car. The cops entered a door that did not appear to be secured at all on a very narrow building that looks like the kind that was built to fill in between two other buildings, where an alley or passageway used to exist. Indeed, when the door opened, Tom saw that it led to a courtyard with other buildings facing it. Not unusual at all. After waiting for a while, it became apparent that the cops were no longer agitated and worried, so whatever happened must have reached a stable situation. We moved on. Maybe we will read about it in Le Parisien later today. The weather was perfect for walking – just cool enough, and with just enough cloud cover that Tom’s head didn’t get sunburned. At the Passerelle Solferino, we could hear the pleasant musical tones of Bernard Constant’s saxophone coming from across the river. We normally would have gone over to listen to him, but we had an errand to tend to. We walked the full length of the charming rue Verneuil, pausing to examine an unusual antique shop window and, of course, the window of the formerly unknown but now famous piano shop on the left bank, A La Corde Pincée. After a nice visit with our friends Ron and Elisabeth, Tom and I went for a late lunch at Bistrot de la Grille Saint Germain. My plan was to just have lunch, the Terrine de la Mere Brazier, but Tom decided to order the filet mignon de porc, so we went for a full Sunday dinner. We shared the terrine, which is my favorite in all of Paris, and then Tom had his pork and I had a roasted chicken leg with a heavenly serving of super-smooth puréed potatoes and a bit of nice brown sauce. Tom was pleasantly surprised to see that the pork was served with a curry sauce. He finished with a Café Gourmand, which is coffee served with a plate of three miniature desserts. Recharged, we decided to walk all the way back home, mostly down the rue Saint Dominique, through the calmed, quiet August streets of the 7^th arrondissement. But as we started to go back, on the boulevard Saint Germain at the Saint Germain des Pres church, was the jazz band Planche a Dixie. They often play on that corner in the late afternoons on Sundays. We stopped to listen for quite a while. Tom admires the percussionist’s skill on the washboard. We’ve been fans of this group for years. In the evening, we didn’t want a full dinner of course, so we just went out to one of the several nearby Chinese carryouts and bought some food to take home. Hot and sour soup (potage pekinois), beef with onions, chicken with mushrooms, and rice. Yumm. Speaking of food, I should mention that we did go back to La Terrasse, near the École Militaire at the intersection where countless avenues converge, on Saturday evening for dinner. It is a noisy corner. I had the mussels, which came in a big pot, with a small plate of fries on the side. Our server, who had the same deadpan face and facial expressions as Charlie Chaplin, seemed to wonder if I’d know what to do with this dish. But of course I know. I eat them like any good Gauloise would, using a shell to scoop mussels out of their shells, and slip them into my mouth. I ate them all, efficiently, except for the few that had not really opened during the cooking process. Those I left submerged in the broth at the bottom of the pot. The broth had just the right amount of butter, onions, and herbs. When I was halfway through, the server removed the first of two bowls he’d brought for me to put the empty shells into. When he removed the remaining bowl of shells and the almost empty pot at the end, he made a sweeping and approving nod at the pot. He was impressed at my achievement. Sorry, I cannot even remember what Tom had for dinner that evening. I was very consumed with my own. Sign my guestbook. View my guestbook. Note: For addresses & phone numbers of restaurants in this journal, click here.

Monday, August 2, 2010 The mysterious piano shop on the left bank is no mystery to us anymore. The shop has gone just a tiny bit touristy, now selling 3-D postcards of itself. Dixieland jazz group of French musicians on the boulevard Saint Germain. ← Previous Next →