Paris Journal 2009 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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We had the great pleasure of
walking and having dinner with Carol and Ron, our friends from England,
yesterday evening. At the end of the
day, Tom and I took the number 10 metro over to their apartment (they’re
staying in the apartment in the 6th where we will be soon, in
September) and had a drink and some lovely hors d’oeuvres with them. Then we had a perfect little
Paris walk around the back of Saint Sulpice, past the pretty Saint Germain
market, across the grand boulevard Saint Germain, up the tiny rue Gregoire de
Tours, through the bustling carrefour de Buci, up the rue Dauphine, across
the Seine to the ancient Ile de la Cité, and into the almost hidden
triangular Place Dauphine where the restaurant Le
Caveau du Palais sits, overlooked by the recently restored Palais de
Justice. How this restaurant has escaped
inclusion in my restaurant
recommendations until this summer is beyond me, except that as I recall,
in our first summers here, the food there was mediocre. But something good happened to
the place a few or several years ago.
The woman who runs it (la
patronne) now has some experienced chefs in the kitchen, and it makes a
world of difference. Carol remembered
the restaurant, thank heavens, and she made a reservation. The food was outstanding last
night. I’ve been meaning to order Andouillette A.A.A.A.A.
sometime this summer, and I decided that this was the place to do it. Carol said that she’d tried to order it
there last summer, but la patronne
quizzed her, asking her if she was really sure she wanted that??? You see, there are some truly
authentic dishes that the French think only they appreciate; they think the
rest of the world is truly grossed out by these foods. One is tête
de veau, and another is Andouillette. Carol was not sure enough, and
so changed her order to something else last summer. Ron asked me about the Andouillette. I told him what it is made from, how
aromatic it is when one cuts into it, and that it is somewhat “visceral.” That was enough for him. I don’t think there is any way he will
order Andouillette now. I placed my order first when la patronne returned to our
table. I planted a knowing smile on my
face, and said in French, “Please, madam, no appetizer for me. I am going to take the Andouillette.” She
repeated back to me, with a big question mark on her face and in her tone, “Andouillette???” I did not let the knowing smile
on my face budge even a tiny bit. I
kept it there solidly, and I replied emphatically, “Oui!” With that response, she smiled
appreciatively and did not need to question my choice any further. Carol ordered a steak whose cut
was called a “pear.” We didn’t know
what kind of cut that really is, but it turned out to be very good, and it
was cooked just the way she wanted it. Ron ordered the duck breast,
and he also consumed some of Carol’s steak as well as some of Tom’s
dinner. Carol and Ron were each served
an attractive looking little dish of crisply sautéed potatoes. Tom ordered the braised beef
with carrots. It came in its own
covered casserole dish. The beef was
so tender that it fell apart at the touch of the fork. The broth was rich, and the carrots
perfect. My Andouillette was the best I’ve ever had. This was, of course, only the second time
in my life that I’ve eaten Andouillette. The first time was last summer or the summer
before, at the authentic provincial restaurant across from the church St.
John the Baptist of Grenelle. I liked it then, and I liked it
even better at Le Caveau du Palais. It
was almost blackened on the outside, as if it had been cooked on a barbeque
grill. It was topped with a drizzle of
olive oil, and just a little bit of finely chopped and sautéed garlic and
onion. It came with a super-sized
serving of puréed potatoes, which I did not attempt to consume in its
entirety. I only ate a small portion. But I ate every bit of that Andouillette, save for a tiny bite
that I gave to Carol and one that I gave to Tom. I knew Ron didn’t want to be anywhere near
a bite of Andouillette. The inside of the sausage was
divine: tender, juicy, and so
tasty. Andouillette is an intense experience. I would not eat such a thing every week, or
even every month. But once a year, as
a special treat? You bet. Ron, Carol and I shared a
bottle of Pouilly Fum , which came at
a very reasonable price. |
Woman who has done some serious
shopping at Muji, near Saint Sulpice in the 6th
arrondissement.
Strange art
in the park on the Seine in front of the Arab Institute.
The very fine apple tart at Oh Duo! |
