Paris Journal 2012 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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The rain continued through most of the day, and the air was cool enough that bone-chilling damp descended on the city. This is how we remember most Septembers in Paris! We appreciate it, knowing that the air is still hot and thick as soup in humid southwest Florida. Besides, the weather yesterday was conducive for working. Tom is plodding through page proofs, as the eighth edition of The Norton Sampler goes through the production phases. The page proofs are in good shape, we’re happy to say. I do help Tom, but I confess that I spend plenty of time each day on this journal. The first task is processing the photographs that I took the day before. If I took many, that can take an hour or so. Then I proofread, once again, the previous day’s page in the journal. This is when I correct typos that somehow escaped me the day before. But writing and proofreading are very different tasks; proofreading is best done before going into writing mode, not after. I insert the links to the new day’s journal in the previous day’s journal. Then save, then save as, then create the blank page, change the links to the prior day’s journal, and voila! Ready to write. That’s an oversimplification, and Microsoft Word is not, perhaps, the best software to use for creating web pages. However, Microsoft Word is good software for writing. MS Word is what I know; it is my familiar fountain pen. Mixed in with the first draft of writing is research. Reading. Searching. Exercising the curious mind. Sometimes I take a look at the headlines in Le Parisien online, or I’ll scroll through the French news headlines that I’ve set up on my Yahoo home page. I use L’Indispensable to retrace steps, and to look up street names. I google search my own prior years’ journal pages for topics that I’ve researched and written about before. In the evening, when I read for pleasure, I often try to read novels that take place in Paris, or elsewhere in France, because that stimulates new ideas. I subscribe to and read certain newsletters, like Bonjour Paris, Paris Update, or The Secrets of Paris. One of the reasons I do not suffer from “writers’ block” is the way I approach the first draft: a mixture of writing and research. If I’m “stuck,” I never feel “stuck.” I just go off looking for something interesting, and I always find it. At least, it is interesting to me. When we are out walking, we inevitably see things that pique the curiosity. What is that thing? Why is this called that? Who was that person this street or place was named for? Who, what, how, why, when, where. Ah, the journalist. The storyteller. Often we encounter something, or something happens, and we look at each other and say, “That’s fodder for the journal!” And so it goes. Fodder for the journal: The digicode apparatus for the ancient, big, wooden door separating our building’s courtyard from the cobbled street was broken. I discovered this simultaneously with a neighbor and his two sons. I was on the inside, about to go out. I heard someone on the outside push on the door. Unlatching the door manually, as I usually do (rather than pushing the button that makes it unlatch electrically), I pushed the door open a tiny bit, not wanting to hit whoever was there in the face. Instantly, I saw that it was a man who obviously knew the digicode, but the digicode was not producing the normal “click” that accompanies the unlocking of the door. The man and his sons were trying to come home after shopping. I said, “Elle ne marche pas?” (« Elle » being either the machine or the door, both of which are feminine nouns.) The man answered « non, » and tried again. Then they stepped in, and tried the button. It didn’t work either. By then, Tom had caught up with me, and we tried the Vigic, the little black plastic disk on his keychain that has a wireless chip that enters the digicode automatically, no pushing of buttons or remembering of codes required. That didn’t work either. So the five of us pushed the ancient door all the way open, engaging its magnet that would hold it that way – until someone would come along and close it, that is. So one of the man’s sons made a paper sign asking all not to shut that door because the lock was not functioning. He taped it to the door. Elisabeth later made another paper sign, and taped it to the other door. Both approaches, from the inside and from the outside, were then covered. Of course, this happened on a Sunday, when the property manager and the locksmith were not on duty. The door stayed open all day, and all night. Some mesquin, as Elisabeth calls a mean, petty, selfish person, tried to steal one of the potted plants from “our” courtyard during the night, taking advantage of our misfortune. But this was a lazy mesquin. The plant was heavy, and so the mesquin put it down outside. Elisabeth rescued it on Monday. On Monday, I heard voices down in the courtyard. The locksmith and his helper were working, and Elisabeth and Madame Z were hovering, curious, maybe “supervising.” The repair seemed to take a long time. Later, Elisabeth said the locksmith was “not efficient.” I think they all were having a good time discussing the situation, at length and in detail. Who needs efficiency? Now the electric control on the lock has been repaired, and we’re safe again; or at least, the plants in the courtyard are safe again. So when we went out finally, at the end of the day, when it stopped raining at last, we did not have to worry about getting back in after shopping at the Marché Saint Germain and the Gérard Mulot bakery. We bought some aged Salers cheese, orange juice, milk, and organic eggs at the fromagerie. From Au Bell Viandier, Serge Caillaud’s butcher shop in the Marché, we bought excellent country ham and a slice of terrine de campagne for our little brunches. At the fruit and vegetable stand that we like, the one in the southwest corner of the market, I saw the first Romanescu of the summer. This pleased me very much, because it is one of my favorite vegetables. There was only one, and I had to have it. So Tom asked the vender for the Romanescu for me, plus two bananas for himself. I’ve been enjoying French radishes, which I snack on the way some people eat potato chips or nuts. But now, I have my Romanescu! I chop the fractal wonder into bits, wash the bits, then dip them in a tiny bit of mayonnaise. Romanescu has the best aspects of the tastes of cauliflower and broccoli combined. This completed our Marché shopping. We exited the southeast entrance, and crossed the street to the busy Gérard Mulot bakery. We bought a traditional baguette, and a pain au raisin for Tom, who declared the pain au raisin at Gérard Mulot to be the best in Paris. By the time we arrived back home at the apartment, we were very hungry. We snacked a little bit, reminding ourselves that we were going to have one of those fine French dinners in the evening, and so did not want to spoil our appetites. I’d tried an experiment: I made a reservation for La Cuisine de Philippe via lafourchette.com, on the page where special offers are available. This offer was for 40 percent off items ordered a la carte, if a Tuesday or Wednesday evening reservation was made at this restaurant via lafourchette.com I wasn’t sure if it would work, because I’d used that site a few years ago to try to make a reservation at l’Abri Côtier. When we’d arrived, there was no reservation, but we were seated anyway. This time, however, it worked. Because of the a la carte condition, and because the discount did not apply to beverages, the deal saved us only about 10 euros, but hey, 10 euros is almost 13 dollars! This was our first visit to La Cuisine de Philippe, which is located only about one long block away from “our” apartment. I knew it would be traditional French cuisine, and I knew that Philippe, the chef, specializes in soufflés. But we didn’t know for certain how good it would be. Oh heavens. The dinner was superb! We each ordered 3 courses; without the deal we had, this would normally have been a 33-euro fixed-price 3-course menu for each of us. That’s not bad. For food this good, it is good value, in fact. Rapport qualité/prix, check. I ordered the soufflé foie gras, the appetizer special of the day, and then a sea bass filet with girolle mushroom risotto for the main course. Tom ordered the soufflé aux girolles for his appetizer, and the Navarin d’agneau (lamb) for his main course. The server asked us to order dessert at the beginning, so I asked for the tarte fine aux pommes (thin apple tart), and Tom ordered yet another soufflé, a caramel one. The appetizer soufflés were marvelous. An edge piece of each one had fallen off, onto the plates, before they arrived at the table, but we didn’t mind. (That’s why I did not photograph them.) The main courses were delicious, too. And nicely presented. But the presentation of my apple tart took the prize. Beautiful. And the tart was light and delicious. So was Tom’s caramel soufflé. I was glad I’d ordered lighter food, because I saw Tom suffer a little from having so much, and having to leave some of that lamb dish on the plate. He was a little uncomfortably full when we left. The ambiance in the tiny restaurant is pleasant. We especially liked the small, old oak counter with inlaid mother-of-pearl decoration. A strange aborigine-like design is painted on the ceiling, probably leftover from the former Kiwi restaurant that had been there until this past year (New Zealand cuisine). When we return, we will probably have only two courses each, but I must point out that the soufflés at La Cuisine de Philippe come in smaller ramekins than those of Auberge Bressane, Axuria, or La Gauloise. That’s the only reason it was even possible for Tom to have one appetizer and one dessert soufflé, along with his main course of lamb. Service was good, and the food was fabulous. The mushroom risotto even met my high standard. We’d like to go back, and perhaps we can talk our friends Ron and Elisabeth into going along, too. They should experience this little gem of a restaurant, which is so close to “our” building. |
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Once
upon a time, Collette lived here, at 28 rue Jacob.
My
translation of the quote on this plaque commemorating the fact that Colette
lived in this building from 1893 to 1896, during the beginning years of her Parisian
literary life: “Somber and attractive as they are, certain places have
smothered too many souls. (My lessons
learned.)”
A
jewelry store on the rue Jacob. I
especially like this necklace (below).
Inside
La Cuisine de Philippe, at 25 rue Servandoni, in
the 6th arrondissement.
Caramel soufflé, above,
and tarte fine aux pommes, below, at La Cuisine de
Philippe.
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