Paris Journal 2012 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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Ambling aimlessly, we crossed the boulevard de Grenelle, headed toward the Place Dupleix, and Tom said, “Let’s go look at this building.” The address is 87 boulevard de Grenelle, at least for the main entrance. The place is now the headquarters for the Fédération Française de Football, i.e., the French soccer federation. But I don’t think that’s what it has always been. Fascinating frescos abound on the façade. Most of the subjects are industry-related, but right by the front door, a panel shows emblems symbolizing the Camargue, a region in the south of France. One of the panels has the name Hérault on it, and the year 1883. The Hérault is a department in the region of Camargue, I believe. There are panels depicting high tension power generation and transmission, laboratory work, ironwork, riveting, drilling, laminating, metalworking, etc. The style of the artwork is one that I recognize as having started in the 1920s and 30s, but these frescos must have been created in the late 1940s, I’d say, judging from the clothing styles. The red panels all over the building look like a later addition, a sort of “plug-over.” I don’t think this building was built for the soccer federation. But search as I may, I cannot find its history on the internet. My guess is that it was once the headquarters for a company that has its roots in the Camargue-Hérault, and whose business involves metallurgy and industrial development. It is frustrating to me that I cannot find more information about it. Symbols are all I have to work with here, it seems. Even though this building is a number of blocks away from us, when I use the Facebook “check in” feature that utilizes the GPS on my smartphone, this soccer federation almost always pops up on the list of places where I might be, instead of “our” apartment, where I am. That tells me that plenty of people “check in” there. This isn’t just one building; it is a complex that takes up an entire square block, on the boulevard de Grenelle, the rue Dupleix, the rue Pondichéry, and the rue du Soudan. The soccer federation seems to be taking good care of the property. In fact, the entire Dupleix quarter is looking good. When we finally tore ourselves away from this curious soccer headquarters complex, we were charmed by the crêperie called Blanche Hermine, at 5 rue de Pondichéry. My friend Christian will like its blue windows, I think. The cheerful “on vacation” notice that this crêperie posted in its window makes it look like a fun place. It is a tiny resto; although the storefront is a normal width, the dining room is not very deep at all. Inside, the walls are exposed stone. Nice. The name, Blanche Hermine, comes from a legend rooted in Brittany. According to the legend, one day as Duchess Ann of Brittany was out riding her horse, she witnessed an ermine with a beautiful white coat of fur being hunted. The hunters chased it to the edge of a muddy pond, where the ermine chose to face the hunters and death rather than spoil its pretty white fur in the mud. The duchess saved the ermine and made it her emblem. Then we saw a very cool ice cream truck: a vintage Citroën! In addition to the Hotel Ares, a luxury (four-star) hotel that we stumbled upon last year, we found another luxury hotel nearby, the Marquis. Both of these are small enough that I’d have to classify them as “boutique” hotels. We’re always charmed when we happen upon a mews, and we did so at number 9 rue Dupleix. Curiously, a bicycle seat cover was hanging from its gate. Just before we left the rue Dupleix, we noticed a historic plaque on a building, declaring that an editor named Cino del Duca (1899-1967) had lived there, from 1941 to 1967. Who was he, we wondered? Well, he was a lucky Italian who moved to France in 1923 and then, starting with a little print shop, eventually made a fortune in publishing. He started several popular magazines, bought the French language rights to popular English comic strips like Tarzan, and even produced some movies. One of the good rich people, he became a generous philanthropist. He is said to have been in the French Resistance, and he
is buried in the famous Pere Lachaise cemetery. Tom was getting hungry, so he wanted to walk down the rue de Laos to check out the restaurant called Marie Edith – a place where we dined with a friend years ago. Our friend had selected the restaurant. We both remembered the food as being pretty good, so we thought we’d check it out. It was after 7:30PM, and the restaurant was open. But nobody was in it. I didn’t like the dirtiness of its awning, its windows, and its floor, which was covered in cheap carpeting. Dirty cheap carpeting – not very appetizing. The menu posted in the front was on weathered, yellowing paper. A sign announced too prominently, “English Spoken Here.” That was too weathered and yellow, too, as was a hand-printed plain Jane English version of the menu. In addition to being unclean, the front window also had lingering bits of old scotch tape here and there, from the posting of earlier notices. Maybe it isn’t fair, because it is possible that the food could be quite good. But when a place looks like this, I think it means the restaurant doesn’t really care that much. And so I rejected Marie Edith. We walked back down the rue de Laos to the avenue de la Motte-Picquet, where we dined once again at La Gitane, where they do care about everything. The patron, Olivier Mayeras, is, after all, a maître restaurateur. There we found clean windows, clean tile floors, appealing décor, friendly reception, and great food. So what does that designation mean, you might ask: maître restaurateur? The esteemed newspaper, Le Figaro, explains it for us in an article about Olivier earning this honorific. Here’s what Le Figaro says: This designation of status recognizes excellence among the best
professionals in the restaurant tradition -- those who develop their
competence and their devotion to quality.
Maître restaurateur is a
guarantee that the kitchen is complete and that the chef and his team make
everything, with high-quality ingredients.
The title is obtained starting with a very complete audit of the
origin of the products, the savoir-faire
of the chef, the quality of reception, the service, the décor, the respect of
hygiene and safety, etc. The
inspection is done by a certified, independent organization. Olivier Mayeras attaches great
importance to this title. Thirty-four
verifications have been conducted at his place, attesting to the originality
of the dishes, the freshness of the specials of the day, the qualifications
of the chef, the cleanliness of the menus, the wait between the courses
(seven minutes for the arrival of the starter), that each customer is given a
farewell on departure, the comfort of the dining room’s temperature, the
availability of equipment for handicapped people, heating and shading of the terrasse, the
cleanliness and good order of everthing, etc. This title of maître restaurateur signifies that Olivier Mayeras’s
Gitane is a reliable restaurant, with a classic
menu . . . . Corinne Mayeras looked happy to see us. She would have given us a coveted table on the terrasse, but we prefer the interior (where no smoking is allowed), so she let us select a table near the front, on the side. The server was a woman who remembered us fondly from prior years. She said it was a pleasure to serve us again, and that she remembered us well. I ordered the starter of the day, a croustillant de chevre, and we each ordered rack of lamb. I asked for puréed potatoes instead of sautéed, and the server said that was no problem at all. (I didn’t think it would be, because puréed potatoes are offered with other menu choices; else, I would not have asked.) The croustillant de chevre was topped with a few sheets of the thinnest imaginable pastry, so light and crispy that they fell apart at the touch of the fork. The goat cheese and the small roasted tomato under the pastry were warm; the mixed greens and vinaigrette were not. The combination was exquisite, and delicious. The lamb was actually cut into chops (i.e., not served as a rack), was tasty, moist, and perfectly grilled. Tom’s sautéed potatoes were those very thin, crispy slices, like the ones I had last time we dined at La Gitane. And the puréed potatoes were delicious, and prettily served in the shape of a small cylinder. Tom ordered the “grosse” profiterole. It was much better than the regular profiteroles that I had the other night at Axuria. I think that the pastries at La Gitane are made in the house; anyway, Tom’s profiterole was big, fresh, and delicious. It came with two generous scoops of ice cream, and no whipped cream, which suited him just fine. This large profiterole was graced by a copious amount of rich dark chocolate sauce, and Tom was mightily pleased with it. We said our goodbyes and thank you’s, and began walking home. We admired the beautiful, new or restored neon sign on the side of the terrasse awning at La Gauloise, a restaurant that many years ago used to be associated with La Gitane, before the days of the Mayeras couple’s “fall into the marmite” (beginning of their restaurant career). When we came back to the apartment, there was still enough light at 9:30 for me to read out on the balcony. I’m reading a book called Rules of Civility, a novel that takes place in New York of the late 1930s. It is beautifully written, by Amor Towles. A beautiful day ends in a beautiful evening with a beautiful dinner and a beautiful book in a beautiful city. |
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
87
boulevard de Grenelle, now the home of the French
soccer federation.
The
blue windows of the white ermine. This
one is for Christian, of Blue Windows Bistro.
Vintage
Citroën ice cream truck.
Mews
at 9 rue Dupleix.
Croustillant de chevre, a special of the day
at La Gitane.
The
elegant neon sign of La Gauloise, on our way
home. This photo is for Dana, of City Lights
Neon.
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