Paris Journal 2008

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We went back to Le Minzingue (5 Place Etienne Pernet, 15^th arrondissement, Tel. 01-45-32-48-54) for dinner last night. This was the neighborhood restaurant where I had my Andouillette AAAAA (see July 24) for the year. Run by Mr. Jean-Louis Piqueronies, the cuisine is that of the Auvergne. I’m sure Mr. Piqueronies is from the Auvergne as well. He makes no attempt to look like a Parisian. He’s country, and proud of it, I’d say. I ordered the appetizer of ravioli in cream sauce with foie gras again. It was rich and yummy. I used bits of bread and my fork to get every last bit of sauce, and when I was finished, the server asked me, jokingly, if I’d like to have more. I just smiled and told her it was excellent. We each ordered the special of the day, sautéed veal, Provençal-style. It came with a reduction sauce and very fine, chopped au gratin potatoes. The wine list is especially good, and it offers good values. I think this is a point of pride for Mr. Piqueronies. You can order anything on the list as a bottle, a half liter, a quarter of a liter, or by the glass. I was amused to watch Mr. Piqueronies open a bottle at a nearby table. When the last part of the cork was being stubborn about leaving the bottle, Mr. Piqueronies unceremoniously wedged the bottle between his thighs to get more leverage for extricating the cork. He’s a very informal guy. Tom had the apple tart for dessert, and it was superb. I tasted it, and I would say the pie crust was as good as my own or my grandmother’s. We arrived at 8PM, and there was only one other table occupied. But by 9PM, the place was packed, full of people in their thirties and forties, hungry for that country cooking. Tables are close together. We heard much of the conversation at the table next to us: a couple where the man was a good ten years younger than his sophisticated wife. We were the only native English speakers in the place, just as before. Our server spoke a little English to us, but we answered her in French, until the end of the evening when we told her that her English is very good. She was very nice and friendly. We made a point of waiting until we could thank Mr. Piqueronies and say good evening to him. I’m sure he will remember us now. That’s good, because this is a very local, neighborhood place. There was a slightly yellowed letter in a frame on the wall by our table. It was a letter from some technical air-conditioning or refrigeration people, who had come to Paris to check out an installation at the Georges-Pompidou European Hospital (also located in the 15^th arrondissement). It was a highly complimentary, clever, and amusing thank-you letter addressed to a restaurant called the Gentianes, I think, which had been located on rue Balard (also in the 15^th, close to the hospital). The letter was full of puns, and it told a story of how the customers (called patients, or rather, impatients) were restored and revived by taking (eating) the prescribed cure (four-course dinner), step-by-step, at this place of healing (restaurant). It was a nice feeling, knowing that we know the language well enough to get the puns. Last night after dinner, we just walked through the neighborhood in the dark, up and down the avenue Émile Zola, enjoying the peace and quiet until everything comes back to life, which will happen by Monday or Tuesday. We were pleased to see guys working late on one of our favorite restos, L’Épopée, getting ready to reopen it next week. They were re-drywalling the back wall of the dining room. I think they will finish in time. Sign my guestbook. View my guestbook.

Thursday, August 21, 2008 In the Jardin des Plantes, we saw this lovely monument to Jacques-Henri Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, engineer, author of Paul et Virginie (short novel about innocent love), and, for a short time, superintendent of the Jardin des Plantes. Paul and Virginie must be the couple at the base of the monument. It is truly remarkable that the orchid I gave to this apartment three years ago or more still survives. At home in Florida, most of my orchids die unless I let them go wild in the trees.

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