Paris Journal 2012 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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Today’s weather
is becoming more interesting by the minute.
Days ago, the forecasters were saying that it would be nearly 90
degrees F today; That’s now been downgraded to 85, and I wonder if it will
even go that far. In anticipation
of heat, I went out on the narrow balcony with my heavy watering cans to give
the many plants a drink this morning, before the sun made its way around to
the front of the building. Now, I
don’t think the sun will ever make it, because of a high layer of
clouds. The wind has picked up, and it
is beating moderately on the retractable awnings that protect two sets of
French doors opening onto the balcony. The weather
radar has what looks to me like the outer edges of a tropical depression
churning through the northwest part of the country, slowly edging over toward
Paris. This might be
entertaining! We’ve been
fortunate so far this summer that there has been no heat wave; there’s been
nothing to remind us too much of that deadly summer of 2003. We lived through that heat wave, but 15,000
people died in France that summer. It was good of
me not to mention, all day on Monday, that it was the 8th
anniversary of Hurricane Charley striking Sanibel Island, our real home. Naturally,
living where I do, I follow weather radar and the National Hurricane Center
web sites assiduously. Quite frankly,
the information on Europe weather radar has been more exciting than the
National Hurricane Center site this summer. Watering the
plants on the balcony at the beginning of a warm summer day always makes me
think of my dad, because he was acrophobic, and the narrow balcony is six
floors above street level. I can
imagine his discomfort at the idea of my inching my way along out there. I do miss him so much. I think of him,
too, when I eat something unusual, because he was a picky eater. This summer, I haven’t done much
adventurous dining, partly because I had some sort of digestive problem early
in our stay, in July. But last night,
at Le
Granite, I was ready! Ready for
grilled andouillette AAAAA, tripe sausage of the first
order. Specifically,
this was Pere Duval andouillette,
and it was the least greasy andouillette I’ve experienced yet. It was delicious! The andouillette
came with a little pot of that fun, grainy old-fashioned mustard. I asked Dalila,
the patronnne,
what would be the garniture with that.
She said I could get green beans, sautéed potatoes, or puréed
potatoes. Because we’d
already consumed a starter of warm, buttery white asparagus in vinaigrette,
accompanied by a salad, I opted for the puréed potatoes. Tom, in an usual move for him, selected the sole meunière. It was absolutely correct – even slightly
crispy on the outside. He did a superb
job of removing the flesh from the bones. Sole meunière is one of those things that French
restaurants do not need to translate if they produce an English language
version of their menu. Many do not
know this, however, and they will write “miller’s fish” or “miller’s sole,”
which is meaningless to us. This is
why they really should hire real Americans or real Brits to compose their
English-language menus. It is not
merely a translation job; real composition must go into it, along with a real
knowledge of food and a knowledge of what French
words have been adopted into the English language. Otherwise,
strict translations of French into English are both confusing and boring. Tom had planned
on ordering dessert, but he was too full, after the white asparagus, salad,
potatoes, and an entire fish. So he
simply ordered an espresso. Dalila brought a little dish with the coffee: two nougats, two chocolates, two caramels,
and two madeleines
(tiny cakes). How nice that
was! When she
brought the check, Dalila wanted to chat. She asked about our dining there in
previous years; she remembered us. I told her that
the first time we dined there was August 25, 2009, and that I remembered that
the restaurant had just opened in July of 2009. She was surprised and delighted to hear
that I remembered this so well! Is my memory
that good? Yes and no. Writing a journal does help immensely with
memory. When you write about
something, you do remember it much better, for much longer. But I’ve often
felt the need to someday do an index of my many years of Paris journals. The task, however, seems daunting, so I’ve
never started it. Then this year,
I realized that I do not need to do this index. Google
“spiders” the internet well; I realized this summer that to find
something in one of my prior year’s journals, all I need do is Google my
name, and then the name or words for whatever I am trying to find. For example,
when I Google “Barbara Cooley Le Granite,” the second item that comes up on the
search results page is my journal entry for August 26, 2009, in which I write
about our first dining at Le Granite on August 25, 2009. How about
that? I’ve used this trick several
times this summer. Almost always, when
I look up something from the past on Google (or in my calendar, or on
Quicken), I find that it happened longer ago than I had imagined. I would have guessed that Le Granite opened
in the summer of 2010. But no, it
opened in the summer of 2009. I asked Dalila about her last name; last night I was
misremembering it as Rodrigues. She
told me that no, it was Martinez. Ah
yes, that’s right. I apologized, and
then told her our names – that’s Thomas, I’m Barbara, and the name is Cooley. Dalila was so
happy to have the introduction. And I
think she was happy that we spoke so much French. The only other couple in
the restaurant, some slightly older locals, were looking very
surprised by all this interaction. When we left, Dalila walked us to the door, and not only said farewell;
she gave us each that double kiss and slight hug. Her friendliness was genuine. One reason she
remembered us, I think (besides the fact that tourists just don’t wander in
at this location), is because in 2009 or 2010 I had complimented her on the
décor of the restaurant. I do admire
it for its simple elegance. I think Dalila did it herself, and she is rightfully proud of it. I’m baffled
about the lack of business in Le Granite last night. Because so many places are closed for
vacation, I would have thought that would send more customers into the
place. But Le Granite relies heavily
on the locals, who, for the most part, are gone on vacation. Axuria does more
business because it is on the busier avenue, and maybe because it is more
“modern” in its approach to cuisine. But I do love
the classical cuisine at Le Granite.
It is a place to go when you want the classics, cooked absolutely
correctly. It was a perfect place to
go for white asparagus, for sole meunière,
and for andouillette AAAAA. Great job, Dalila and Eric Martinez.
You rock!
Looking out from the steps in front of 87 boulevard de Grenelle, I saw this top-floor apartment with an inviting
solarium across the way. Wouldn’t that
be a fun place to stay, as long as the line 6 metro train isn’t too noisy? |
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
These
two, in a window on the avenue Félix Faure, reminded us of ourselves.
Sole
meunière and andouillette
AAAAA at Le Granite.
Another
few frescos from the mysterious façade of 87 boulevard de Grenelle.
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