Paris Journal 2007

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Here is Sanibel East, in the heart of Paris.

Seated in front row are Ulla, Rick, and Linda.
Standing in the back are Arly, John, me, Tom, and
Bogi.

 

The tiny restaurant, Au Brin de Zinc, on the rue de Seine.

 

Typical immodest French figures atop the Grand Palais.

 

The garden in the middle of the Petit Palais.

 

Churchill, outside the Petit Palais.

Friday, September 21

 

We went to party with other Sanibellians on Wednesday.  John and Linda were our gracious hosts, with the big, beautiful apartment they’ve rented for a month in the 9th arrondissement.  Rick and Arly were there; they are devoted fans of Island Jazz, the band in which Tom plays the drums.  They also are regulars at Current Events, a weekly discussion group on the island.  Other Current Events devotees at the party were Bogi and Ulla.  Their niece Carolyn (who works in Paris) came to join us as well (she was our photographer for the evening).

 

It was an indoor picnic, with very informal and good food.  We laughed so hard, and we did talk about current events.  So we called ourselves Sanibel East, and we just had the most eastern session of the Current Events group.  This time of year on Sanibel, there may only be 6 or 8 people at the regular Current Events group, so our group size of 8 people is not to be dismissed.

 

Yesterday, we accomplished almost nothing.  We slept late, and then spent the afternoon in a long, fun chat with Ron and Elisabeth while they did their laundry in our/their apartment.  Tom’s current package of work on his book is not too demanding, so he wasn’t pressed at all to be grinding away at it.

 

We did go out for a long walk in the Luxembourg Gardens at the end of the day.  After, we decided to try a tiny little restaurant that Arnold had recommended to us as we walked up to the Louvre one day a couple weekends ago.  The name of the place is Au Brin de Zinc, and it is on rue de Seine not too far from the Institut de France.

 

Inside the narrow place, we looked up and saw a very, very old beamed ceiling that had been painted many times.  There are no formalities here; you just come in, say bonsoir, and seat yourselves.  Nobody was asked if they’d bothered to make a reservation.

 

When we arrived a bit after 8, there was already one German speaking couple having dinner.  We seated ourselves, and shortly after, another German speaking group of four came in and sat down.  Then a German mother and daughter, both very stylish, filled in the last empty table on our side of the narrow space.  We moved our table so they could get in to theirs.  All the Germans in the place spoke enough French to read the menu and order in French. 

 

With Arnold’s recommendation, and with all the Germans in this place, we are guessing that the restaurant is recommended in a German guide book to Paris.

 

There are no printed menus.  Everything is written on blackboards.  The food is, by Parisian standards, very inexpensive (important now that the euro costs over $1.40!).  So is the wine.  The wines are only listed by the glass, but I heard the young lady who was our server explain to one of the German groups that it is possible to order the wine in a bottle or in a slightly smaller pitcher or carafe.

 

Only one dessert was listed, a fruit crumble, but it turned out that they have several others.  You just have to listen to the server tick them off, and trust that they won’t charge you too much for them (they won’t).

 

The front of the house, at least, seems to be run by a large, blonde middle-aged woman with a nice smile.  The younger server could be her daughter.

 

An eccentric-looking big black-haired lady came in, limping on a medical-supply-style crutch.  She positioned herself on a bar chair that was brought out for her (this bar, like many in Paris, is normally just a stand-up bar, with hooks under the bar edge where you can hang your coat or jacket).  The lady is evidently a regular.  She chatted away merrily with both Madame and her daughter as she ate her meal at the bar.  I liked this eccentric lady because she was so friendly, and because her French was as clear as can be – very easily understood.  Because of her clear speech and eccentric look, I wondered if she had been in the theatre.

 

Our food arrived very quickly.  There was no more of the chicken special, of the Vallée d’Auge, so we had each ordered the simple poulet roti (roasted chicken leg) with fries.  It has been a while since we’ve seen fries on a menu.  Mostly we’ve seen sautéed potatoes this year.  But here were fries, and they were piping hot and good – not greasy at all.

 

The chicken could have been cooked a bit longer, but it was good, and certainly better than overcooked.  It was served with some tasty, sweet sautéed onions on top, and a bit of salad with vinaigrette on the side.  Simple, good food.

 

Tom ordered a tarte tatin  which, he said, was as good as it can be.  I had a taste, and I agree.  This was the most pleasant surprise of the meal.  (My Dictionnaire Gastronomique says a tarte tatin is a “carmelized upside-down apple pie, made famous by the Tatin sisters, who had a hotel in Lamotte-Beuvron, in the Sologne; a popular dessert found on menus throughout France.” )

 

Tonight, we go to the Louvre with Ron and Elisabeth.  That should be fun!

 

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