Paris Journal 2010 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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It was time to buy more Nespresso coffee capsules yesterday, so we passed by the great lions of the fountain in the Place Saint Sulpice and entered the Nespresso boutique on rue Bonaparte. We know that Nespresso isn’t exactly environmentally correct, but they are trying to encourage people to recycle the aluminum capsules. It is a pain, because you have to remove the foil on top, empty the coffee grounds, and put the cleaned out capsules in a special bag that the boutique provides. Our friend Elisabeth who owns the apartment likes to put the coffee grounds in the dirt of the potted plants in the courtyard. For a while, there was a bird who’d visit the plants every day, toss the dirt around, make something of a mess, and then sit around admiring his work. Tom and I were the ones who discovered the bird one day when we were entering the courtyard from the street. Elisabeth and Ron had been wondering what or who had been making this daily mess. Then the four of us theorized that the bird had developed an addiction to caffeine, from the coffee grounds. For whatever reason, the bird stopped coming by weeks ago. Buying coffee capsules at the boutique is a real Parisian experience. The boutique is chic, and spacious. It is air conditioned in the summer. There are no shelves of things you can browse through, or select by yourself. Some expensive Nespresso machines are on display in elegant fashion. There is a brochure that explains the varieties of coffees offered in the capsules. But to really buy anything there, one must wait in line for a well dressed salesperson to be ready to receive one. The salespeople are dressed up. The guys are in suits and ties, and the women are generally wearing darker-colored, fairly tailored clothing. The salespeople sit on stools behind a sleek counter for each one of them, with their computer/cash register neatly fitted into the top of the counter. When it is your turn, you are allowed to advance to a counter, where of course the first thing you say is bonjour, and the salesperson repeats bonjour back to you, hopefully with a smile. Then the litany of questions begins, all in French, bien sur. Do you have a Nespresso loyalty card? You don’t have it with you? What is your name? Your account is in Paris? What arrondissement? Rue du Canivet? Tres bien. What kind of coffee would you like to buy? Do you want to buy any chocolates or other products? Would you like to go upstairs to taste the new flavors? Do you want a sack for recycling? Your total purchase today is ____euros. Thank you. Have a good day. Goodbye. Then you can leave the boutique with your stylish little shopping bag with neat long boxes of Nespresso capsules of various kinds. Such a ritual! Then we were free to go buy newspapers at a kiosque and go on to the Saint Germain food market for essentials like blue cheese from the Auvergne, pears to go with the blue cheese, eggs, a head of Romanesco, bananas, special ham that is less salty than grocery store ham, and a slice of country terrine with pistachios in it. Fruit and vegetables, eggs, cheese and meat. The basics. I notice now that Ramadan is over, there are more guys working at the Kahdi fruit and vegetable vendor at the food market. There are several of these produce vendors to choose from, but I like Kahdi because the guys who work there are friendly and helpful, and their prices are better than the other vendors’. At about 6:30, we left for the very familiar hour-long trek across the left bank to go to meet Roy and Barbara at their apartment in the 15th, for a glass of champagne. Tom took them a copy of the newest Norton Sampler, specially inscribed for them. The four of us walked down the avenue Emile Zola for the 8:30 reservation I’d made at Oh! Duo. We got the round table in the front corner, which I love. The restaurant filled up its ground floor, but didn’t have to send diners up to the upstairs dining room. Françoise Valero was her usual friendly self, but we didn’t see Joel – he was very busy in the kitchen. We were given a mis en bouche consisting of a shot glass of cold cucumber gazpacho sprinkled with chives. We were given tiny spoons with which to eat the tiny serving. For starter courses, three of us each had the croustillant de boudin noir. It was a layer of flaky pastry beneath which was the meat from blood sausage, cooked perfectly, all resting on a little bed of mixed greens and super thin slices of granny smith apples. Delicious. Roy had the appetizer of the day, a fascinating assortment of about four kinds of thinly sliced marinated fish. We two Barbara’s had rabbit, served as boneless morsels, for our main course (le râble de lapin - sans os - petit jus à la réglisse). Tom had the lamb slices with mint and green pepper (la selle d’agneau émincée, jus à la menthe et au poivre vert). Roy had the daily special, duckling cooked with peaches. All excellent, and all with Joel’s incomparable puréed potatoes. Then we all had some brie, as a cheese course before dessert. I had to give half of mine to Tom. It was clear that I was going to have to have dessert, too, to keep up with this group! And so I ordered the profiteroles au chocolat. The profiteroles were very small, cut in half, and served with a scoop of great vanilla ice cream in the middle. They sat in a pool of rich, dark chocolate sauce. Roy had the tarte tatin, excitingly served with flaming calvados, and Tom had his usual tarte fine aux pommes, which Joel prepares so very, very well. Françoise made the assistant take it back to the kitchen to have a scoop of ice cream added to it. Barbara had the gratin de fruits rouges au sucre cassonade. It was a very fine, four-course dinner. Five, if you count the mis en bouche. If one is going to have such a meal, this is the place to do it. Not only is the food delicious and the atmosphere warm, friendly and comfortable, but very importantly, the servings are not large at all. Tom and I had a safe ride home in the metro, from Place Charles Michel to Mabillon. I say safe, because I know you may have heard about the bomb threat at the Eiffel Tower and at the Saint Michel RER station the other day. It took quite a while for the authorities to clear the Eiffel Tower area and make sure there was no bomb. The Saint Michel RER station was not closed for so long, according to the newspapers. Tom and I did walk right over that station that day, as we walked along the boulevard Saint Michel on our way back from the right bank adventure. That Saint Michel station is where the attack took place in 1995, in which scores of people were killed or injured. But life goes on. Sign
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my guestbook. Note: For addresses & phone numbers of
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here. And here’s the 2009 Paris Journal. |
Thursday, September 16, 2010
One
of the panels in Notre Dame, showing the life of Christ, with its new sign
explaining it in five languages.
Windows
in Notre Dame. Please excuse the
blurriness; I never use a flash in a
church.
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