Paris Journal 2013 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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Thunderstorms came to Paris
yesterday. Within an hour of rain, the
temperature dropped 20 degrees F. The city
sighed with relief. Along with the extreme
heat, the air pollution made an exit from the scene. Well, at least most of it did. The bad ozone level has dropped to the
“mediocre” level. There is nothing mediocre
about one of our favorite avenues for strolling, the avenue Félix Faure. First of all, at the
beginning of the avenue, just behind the Saint John the Baptist church of
Grenelle, stands one of the most glorious Belle Epoque apartment buildings in
the city. Technically, the address of
the building is 24 Place Étienne Pernet, the name of the street that
encircles the church. But this corner,
of the Place and the rue de l’Église, marks the start of the avenue Félix
Faure. This glorious example of Belle
Epoque/Art Nouveau architecture literally overlooks the avenue. The building is attributed
to the architect Alfred Wagon, in 1905.
I cannot find much information about the man, but about the building,
the French Wikipedia tells us: « Il représente l'une des expressions les plus maniéristes de l'Art
nouveau parisien transposé à l'échelle imposante d'un immeuble de rapport
construit après l'adoption du règlement de 1902. Un décor abstrait orne
chaque baie, avec pour motif central, des fleurs ou des fruits stylisés :
artichauts, tournesols, iris, pomme de pin, feuilles de bananier. La mansarde
et le pignon d'angle, surmonté d'un bulbe couvert d'ardoise, sont
particulièrement exubérants. La porte d'entrée, surmontée d'une arabesque
dissymétrique, possède des fers forgés très ouvragés et s'ouvre sur un hall
également Art Nouveau. Le pavement comporte des iris. Au mur, des arabesques
terminées par des épis de maïs ; des lis ornent la corniche du
plafond. » Okay, so it is a great
example of Parisian Art Nouveau architecture, with its exuberant mansard and
corner gable with a bulbous slate roof, its decorations featuring artichokes,
sunflowers, iris blooms, pine cones, banana tree leaves. But what, I wondered, is the “règlement de 1902 » ? I did a little
research. The way I understand this decree
is that it allows for taller buildings on wider streets. If the street is wider than 20 meters, the
height can exceed the normal limitations somewhat, and the use of windows and
other projections can be made above the cornice line, in the mansard roof. In particular, it allowed for the roof to
be higher in the center of a large building.
The regulation does require a harmony of proportion between the
building and the street. The end
result was that this regulation allowed for much more interesting rooflines,
giving Art Nouveau permission to go wild at the tops of the buildings. Up until this regulation, the Haussmannian
buildings had to have fairly uniform alignment at the top. With the decree of 1902, the Art Nouveau
architects like Alfred Wagon could be more creative. So, in Paris, when you see
those late-Haussmannian or post-Haussmannian buildings with those great,
decorative turret-towers on the corners of bigger buildings where two streets
intersect, thank the decree of 1902.
Its principal author was Louis Bonnier, the chief architect for the
City of Paris at the time. Incredibly, Louis Bonnier
is not included in the English Wikipedia.
There is a nice entry about him in the French Wiki, however. Born in 1856, he studied
art in Lille and then at the École Nationale Superieure des Beaux-Arts in
Paris. He designed buildings in his
native region and all over France. He
was particularly active during the Universal Exposition of 1900. A notable architect in his
own right, the most important impact of his career was made in his time as
the chief architect for the City of Paris, and then as the chief architect
for public buildings for the French government. He was a founder of the École Superieure d’Art Publique, where
he then taught. In 1925, that school
became the Institut d’Urbanisme de
Paris. His friends included
artists and writers like Claude Monet and André Gide. I will try to always
remember Louis Bonnier when I look up to admire a Belle Epoque roofline. Often, I remind myself to
look up as we walk through Paris. You
can see that in my photographs. If you
don’t look up often, you will miss much. While strolling down the
avenue last night, we went a bit farther than our destination so we could see
if the restaurant Axuria was air conditioned.
The full façade of the resto was open, yet we felt cool air drifting
out of it. So I went in to make a
reservation for this evening. After that little task, we
went back to the corner of rue de la Convention and turned right to reach our
goal: Bistro 121. Our reservation was for
7:30PM. That is early by Parisian
standards, but it suits us, and that way, we are given a better table than
we’d have if we arrived with the masses at 8 or 8:30. The man who greeted us had
one of those powerful, compact physiques, and a natural smile. He was tanned, and older than many
chefs. But I strongly suspected that
he was the chef, Eric Corailler. He gave us the same table
we had last time we dined there. The
same friendly young man who served us last time came out to take our order
for apératif (always a bottle of
sparkling water for us), and to show us the daily specials on the blackboard. Meanwhile, the man who I
thought might be the chef was carefully cleaning a stack of menus (very important,
because printed menus can spread germs like you would not believe!), and then
he pulled out a nylon briefcase to tend to some other business. He disappeared momentarily,
only to reappear in a brown chef’s jacket with his name embroidered in red,
over his heart. I was right: Eric Corailler, the chef. He is the former chef of the Sofitel at La
Defense. Now he has his own resto, and
we love it. He must have a good staff
in the kitchen, because he was frequently in the dining room last night, bringing
out food, and looking at people’s plates to see how they were enjoying his
cuisine. So many chefs seem to be
introverts, and they don’t come out much.
They don’t really want to interact that much with the clients. But there are some, like Eric Corailler,
who really do want that interaction. I think he was impressed
with how I absolutely cleaned my plate.
It was testimony to my appreciation for his sauces. First, we were given a mis en bouche consisting of a very
light, flaky strip of pasty infused with a bit of cheese somehow, but still
crispy in texture. Really nice. It just melted in our mouths. I ordered a starter course
for us to share: gambas poêlées, lentilles corail à l'huile de noisette, magret séché,
vinaigrette à la mangue. These
were excellent shrimp (three large ones), served with strips of dried (but
not really dry) duck breast and delightful little round lentils on a salad
with just the right amount of delicious mango vinaigrette. My main course was a jarret de veau, or slowly roasted veal
knuckle, served with little white potatoes and a rich, brown sauce that I
adored. Tom’s was the roasted pork
flank. It came with a delicious
potato-and-greens concoction. Tom ordered the café gourmand, which included a
sampling of a few small desserts, including a rich, dark chocolate mousse and
a mini crème brûlée. One of the many things I
appreciate about Bistro 121 is the right-sized portions. Portions are on the small side, the way we
like them. Eric seemed to notice how
we deeply appreciated the food, and so he gave us quite a nice farewell as we
left the restaurant. The restaurant
was full of lively, chattering French people when we departed. After the day’s rain and
the lovely dinner, we had a deep sense of well-being as we strolled up the
avenue, toward home. |
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Top
corner of the building at 24 Place Etienne Pernet,
overlooking the beginning of the avenue Felix Faure.
Gambas
poêlées, lentilles corail à l'huile de noisette, magret séché, vinaigrette à
la mangue.
Jarret de veau, with a slice of bacon-like pancetta
on top.
Pork
araignée,
which our server said is a flank. Araignée
literally means “spider.” |
