Paris Journal 2013 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
Find me on Facebook 2012
Paris Journal ← Previous Next
→ Back to the Beginning
|
The Tour de France will end
in Paris today – or rather, this evening.
For the first time, we believe, the Tour’s peloton will enter the City of Light in the evening instead of
the afternoon. As usual, we will watch it
on TV. We love the helicopter views of
this beautiful city, and France 2 will show us plenty of those. Because this all happens from about 6 to
10PM, we plan to have a feast set up for the two of us in the dining room,
and we’ll turn on the dining room TV for the show. So dinner tonight is chez nous. I’ve not been writing much
about the Tour this month because I’ve lost some interest in it. Some of this is because of the huge
disappointment called Lance Armstrong.
But Tom has enjoyed this year’s Tour immensely, and we celebrate
Christopher Froome’s victory. A friend of ours (and
fellow Island Jazz musician), Babe Vandevelde, has a nephew, Christian Vande Velde,
who was competing in the Tour again this year. But as often happens with Christian, he
fell and injured himself badly enough that he had to drop out of the race at
Stage 7, the Montpellier-to-Albi day. Several months ago, Harriet
Vandevelde (Babe’s wife) told me about other injuries Christian sustained in
the past year in other races. We are
very sad for him. This is the third
time he started but has not been able to complete the Tour de France. Babe (whose real first name
is Valerie) also raced bicycles for a little while when he was younger. But now he’s a 91-year-old retired guy who
plays the jazz saxophone superbly and has one of the nicest dispositions of
anyone I’ve ever known. Nothing
bothers Babe, it seems, and he never seems to be angry. He is always nice, and usually he is
smiling, to some degree or another. We don’t really know
Christian, but if he has some of that demeanor, it may go a long way toward
making these falls and disappointments bearable. Mostly what I like about
the Tour on TV now is the scenery. I
am grateful to Cynthia S. for pointing out to me the “beauty shot” videos
available on the Tour web site for each stage. I just watched several of them. This country is breathtakingly
beautiful! At least, many parts of it
are. Here’s a link to the sample
that Cynthia sent to me, for the Gap to l'Alpe d'Huez stage: http://www.letour.fr/le-tour/2013/us/stage-18.html
Enjoy. We sure enjoyed dinner last
night. After checking out reviews of
the restaurant next door to L’Accent Corse, I decided that we really must try
it. Another reason to go: it has been recently renovated and is now
air conditioned. I’m talking about Bistro
121, at 121 rue de la Convention.
Here’s a photo gallery from
the restaurant’s web site. In Florida, I’m accustomed
to restaurants that are overly air conditioned, and so I try to remember to
take a cardigan or lightweight jacket with me when I go out to eat, even if
it is 90 degrees F with 90 percent humidity outside. So as we left for dinner,
it was not unusual for me to take a shawl that coordinated with the sundress
I was wearing yesterday. I was glad I did. The a.c. was strong enough that I needed
the shawl, and Tom put his blazer on, after we’d been in the resto for only a
few minutes. The server came by and
asked us if the temperature was okay, and we assured him that it was fine. It is a blessing to know
about a truly air conditioned restaurant now that the heat wave is here. However, Bistro 121 is not open on Sunday
evening and Monday. The heat wave will
last until sometime on Wednesday. The food was very
interesting and good at Bistro 121.
The chef, Eric Corailler, has earned the title of “Maitre Restaurauteur.” We began by sharing a petite crêpe d'herbes farcie de tourteau
et légumes croquants, mousse d'avocat épicée – a crêpe cut, stuffed and
rolled like a spring roll. The
contents included crabmeat, vegetables, and avocado mousse. Cool, colorful, fresh, and delicious. The avocado mousse was NOT spicy at all,
however. Maybe a French person would
think it was, but we say not. My main course was the dorade
royale grillée, tomate à l'écrasée de pommes de terre et olives noires. These
were the best puréed potatoes I’ve ever consumed. Some of the purée was taken and mixed
with a tapenade of black olives. That
mixture was stuffed into the baked tomato.
That was a nice touch, but the best thing was the good feeling that
really good, buttery potatoes along with fresh, perfectly cooked fish will
give you. Ahhhh. For me, it brings back good
memories of a fish boil in Door County, Wisconsin, when I was a teenager. Tom had the onglet de jeune bovin, pancetta grillée,
risotto verdurette. He said it was
a perfectly prepared steak, small, but as good as a filet mignon, maybe even
more flavorful than a filet mignon.
The pancetta was a nice,
bacon-like touch, and the risotto with peas was very good. Tom let me taste that because I encouraged
him to taste the buttery, heavenly potatoes. Tom’s dessert was a croustillant
de fraises Gariguette à la pistache, sirop à la citronnelle. The
« croustillant » aspect was really delicious, crispy homemade
pralines. The biggest surprise in this
dessert, however, was a pistachio-and-citrus-flavored green pudding upon
which the strawberries rested.
Delightful! The service was friendly
and good humored, and we were not surprised at all to see the restaurant
starting to fill up as we paid our check. Before dinner, at about
5PM, I walked up to the Champ de Mars again to hear a band. This one was called the City Jazz Orchestra
and Singers, from the Catholic High School in Chester, England. Tom joined me right as the band started to
play. The group did not play jazz
at all. The music was pure rock. Jazz is American music, by origin, and I
sure don’t mind people of other nationalities playing it. That’s great, to have an American art form so
appreciated globally. But darn it, this was ROCK,
not jazz. Brits do have a good claim
to rock music; why not just call it what it is? City Rock ‘n Roll Orchestra and Singers. Those singers were truly
horrible. They sang off key, in very
unpleasant voices. Sorry to be
negative, but this is the truth. Our
ears hurt. The group brought its own
sound system, which was overkill. It
created an imbalance that emphasized the guitar, drums, and singers too much
– to the extent that it was difficult to discern the sound of the saxophones,
etc. The surprise was one of the
two drummers. The little skinny guy
was amazingly powerful, and he had that natural sense of just what to
do. His playing was creative, dynamic,
musical, and fun. Great going, little
guy! I think he is going to be
famous. Too bad I don’t know his
name. But I won’t forget him. We walked around to the
back of the bandstand so we could watch him play for a while. But then the other drummer took over and we
just could not take the sound of those singers, so we left early. We needed the time to get supplies at the
grocery for our feast planned for this evening. We had just enough time to do that before
our dinner reservation at Bistro 121. We usually do dine out,
because we’ve often been inside, working at the computers, during the
day. Strolling about Paris in the late
afternoon and evening, after working and before dinner, is usually a good
thing to do. But with the heat wave,
we’re adjusting. We must. I went out at 8AM for a walk
this morning, up to the open market under the elevated metro tracks on the
boulevard de Grenelle. This market
happens on Wednesday and Sunday mornings.
By about 1PM, the vendors begin taking apart their stalls and loading
their trucks. I thought the market was
supposed to begin at 7AM, but only some of the produce and meat vendors were
set up by 8AM. The non-food vendors
(clothing, jewelry, accessories, even furniture) were just getting started
with setting up at 8AM, it seems. Even
some of the produce, fish, and cheese vendors were still setting up. But the market wasn’t
crowded yet, so it was a good time to walk the full length of it and back,
just for the fun of it. The air was cool and clear
then, in that glorious Sunday morning hour of 8 to 9AM. Now it is about 1PM, and Paris is heating
up. So we’re plannning to dine
here tonight. I do cook here
sometimes, but the kitchen is small and full of all kinds of things. Now I have it arranged so I can work in
there a bit. I made an omelette for lunch
a few days ago that Tom said was the best I have ever made, and he said it
was even far better than the omelette he had recently at Le Frégate. My omelette had some
Emmental cheese and a bit of Paris ham in it; Le Frégate’s had mushrooms in
it. (Dare I tell the kitchen staff at
Le Frégate? It is a mistake to cook the mushrooms in the omelette, because they release water when they cook. If you want to make a mushroom omelette,
sauté the mushrooms first, with some thinly sliced shallots, drain them, and
then add them just before the cooking omelette is folded.) So yes, I do cook eggs now
and then, and once in a while, other things, in Paris. But I’m spoiled by my grand American
kitchen back home. That’s where I can
really cook. And bake. For lunch, I’ve been eating
salads lately. I buy mache (lamb’s lettuce), or a mix of mache and roquette,
garnish a big pile of it with a few very small cubes of Cantal cheese and a
little bit of roasted chicken (or Paris ham if there is no chicken), season
it with freshly ground salt from the Camargue and coarsely ground black
pepper, and dress it with a smattering of olive oil and a splash of balsamic
vinegar. Sometimes I’ll toss in something
different, like slices of strawberries.
French strawberries are even better than Florida strawberries; the
seeds are smaller, and the fruit’s flesh is more delicate. Tom will typically make
himself a ham and cheese sandwich. One of my special treats
tonight will be radishes. I love
French radishes. They are more oval,
and less round, than our radishes back home.
And they have a more delicate taste; they aren’t quite as hot. What else will be in the
feast? On va voir . . . . |
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Old-fashioned
rose growing on the fence around the bandstand/stage of the Champ de Mars.
Uninvited
mime approaches stage on the Champ de Mars, climbs steps, and then is asked
(by the band leader) politely to leave the stage, which he does.
Petite
crêpe d'herbes farcie de tourteau et légumes croquants, mousse d'avocat
épicée.
Dorade
royale grillée, tomate à l'écrasée de pommes de terre et olives noires.
Onglet
de jeune bovin, pancetta grillée, risotto verdurette.
Croustillant
de fraises Gariguette à la pistache, sirop à la citronnelle.
The
powerful and talented little drummer of the City Jazz Orchestra from Chester,
U.K.
|