Paris Journal 2012 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com

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Work at the Beaugrenelle construction site was in full swing on Thursday evening. The automobile traffic was completely closed off at the end of rue Linois, and even on one side of the busy Quai André Citroën. But we pedestrians were allowed to walk through the site, on our designated, mostly covered, fenced-in path. The occasion for the total blockage was that the structure for the new overhead walkway had arrived, and a crew was working late to begin to lift it into place. The structure is rounded, and made of tubular steel with a white coating. We could see the rounded openings in the new concrete walls on each side of rue Linois, where the pedestrian walkway will connect. It was interesting to see the work being done, but impossible to capture on the camera. Without the car traffic, that normally busy spot was surprisingly quiet. We finished crossing the quai, and then half of the Seine, on the Pont de Grenelle. When the Statue of Liberty was on our left, we turned to the right to begin our stroll through the leafy Allée des Cygnes, on the long, narrow Île aux Cygnes, down the middle of the Seine. At the end, just before we walked up the steps to the Pont de Bir-Hakeim, a dark skinned bride in a beautiful white gown and veil was posing with her dark and handsome groom for two photographers. We climbed the steps. On the romantic bridge with hanging lamps, on the other side of the street, a long, white limosine waited. A few more dark, handsome men in tuxedos also waited. We were still musing about all this beautiful black-and-white imagery, and about darker things that we passed by and through, so we missed our turn on the rue Saint Charles, and walked down the boulevard de Grenelle to the rue Violet instead. When we were just about home, we decided to dine at the Café du Commerce, which is the closest restaurant to our apartment. The maître d’hotel, servers, and head waiters at the restaurant also dress in black and white, or in very dark gray suits, white shirts, and ties. They are as handsome as the restaurant, which is very. The head waiter gave us the French menus, but asked if we wanted English. We said merci, non, and he seemed to understand why. Tom ordered the daily special, a thick slice of leg of lamb, and I ordered the fish special, an entire roasted bass. For dessert, we simply had to have the incomparable baba au rhum that the Café du Commerce does so well. It was a very good dinner. Toward the end of it, the head waiter wanted to engage us in some English conversation. We obliged. He asked me if I knew about the history of the restaurant. I said yes, it was originally a fabric store, right? He was pleased. He asked how long ago we first dined there. 1998, we answered. He said it has been the same owner all that time (which is not what we’d thought, but the change was probably in managers, not ownership). He proudly proclaimed that everything there is made fresh; they do not use frozen and pre-prepared meals that come in plastic bags and are heated in boiling water. Yikes! I didn’t know Parisian restaurants were so pervasively resorting to such shortcuts! He asked us to wait for a moment. He disappeared, and then reappeared with an attractive, big, three-panel brochure printed in color on heavy cream-colored stock. It described the history and background of the restaurant, in both French and English. I glanced quickly through some of the English. It was excellent, and I told him so. He was pleased to hear that, because he is ashamed of the English menu that the restaurant uses. He showed me the English menu. I had to agree; the English menu was not good at all. But I assured him that whoever did the English translation in the brochure did a very fine job. He told me to keep the lovely brochure, and so I did. We were a bit amused to see that it promotes the restaurant’s “terrasse.” There is no “terrasse” for dining at the Café du Commerce. Well, the restaurant tried to make one, on the top of part of the ground floor that extends beyond the main part of the building. This “terrasse” abuts the courtyard behind “our” apartment building. In fact, when we look down from our kitchen or bathroom windows, it is what we see, through the leaves and branches of the ailanthus (giant stink tree) that grows in the courtyard. The shade of the terrasse that the brochure refers to is the shade of the stink tree. From our table in the restaurant, we could see a few tips of branches of the stink tree because the restaurant also has a nifty retractable glass roof. We remember that our friend who owns the apartment had told us that the restaurant had wanted to use the “terrasse” for dining, but the owners of the apartments said no, no, no. Somehow, the apartment syndicate has control over the courtyard, and the one-story section of the restaurant that occupies that side of the courtyard. (Indeed, that piece of the restaurant is shown on the fire evacuation plan posted in the porte cochere of “our” building.) Mr. Billon, in particular, who owns a controlling interest in this building (because he owns several apartments, or he and his wife do), must have been instrumental in squelching the restaurant’s terrasse plans. So now it is just a space where the servers can go outside for a break, or a smoke. While we do enjoy the restaurant, we don’t really want diners out there on the “terrasse.” That would create noise that would disturb us. The guardienne for our building, Maria, has a kitchen garden growing down in the far end of the courtyard, where we don’t really see it. How nice for her and her family; they have such a small space to live in. The courtyard space is much needed and used by them. Maria’s and Manuel’s two daughters are grown up and married now. But they, their husbands, and the grandbabies come around often. The family is getting bigger, not smaller. In some buildings, such a courtyard would be common space used by all the residents. Not so in this building. However, we do use it in one way: that’s where the green, lidded garbage cans (poubelles, named after Eugène-René Poubelle) are kept. Two are for garbage, one for glass bottles, and one for other recyclables. The courtyard also is home to an old wooden shed. A young man keeps his big motorcycle in there. I think he rents the space from Mr. Billon. The courtyard is paved in beautiful old cobblestones – except where the kitchen garden is located, and where the stink tree grows. Someone, probably Manuel, had to work hard to get the cobblestones up to make way for that garden. The courtyard is connected to the street side by a classic porte cochère that runs through from the big oak double door on the street façade to the big, plainer double door on the courtyard side. The porte cochère is also paved with stones, but these are smoother than the cobbles. All the paving stones are hosed down every Saturday morning. If you opened both sets of doors, you could drive a car through the building and into the courtyard. But nobody ever does that here. In some buildings, the courtyard would be used for parking cars. I’m much happier with it being used by Maria’s family. If one owned a car and lived in this building, one could park the car (for a monthly fee) at the Parking du Commerce garage one short block away. This garage used to be run by La Poste, but was privatized some years ago. Area businesses, such as the restaurant, list this garage as the place to park if you’re driving into the rue du Commerce area to shop or dine. So it is for both long-term and short-term parking. But we wouldn’t dream of having a car in Paris. Paris is a city for walking. We walked down the avenue Félix Faure last night, to dine at Axuria. It was hot. I was uncomfortably warm in the restaurant. We noticed that yesterday, the Café du Commerce kept its retractable roof closed. Hooray! The management decided to turn on the air conditioning! So when we returned from Axuria, we walked into the Café du Commerce to make a reservation for tonight. Sure enough, the Café du Commerce had its two sets of wood-and-glass swinging doors also closed. The air conditioning was working. We reserved. Today, the temperature is supposed to climb up to 99 degrees F. Tomorrow, it will be 101, according to the forecasters. This morning, I awoke early. It was only supposed to go down to 70 last night, but it was 66 at 7AM. I opened the apartment up for a few hours, but now it is closed, as the day heats up outside. I watered the plants on the balcony, too, this morning, and lowered the awnings. We’re tucked in here for the day. The experts quoted in the local newspaper advise staying home from 11AM to 5PM. What a good idea! For a couple of days, it is not too difficult to keep the apartment cooler than the outside, because the apartment building is built of stone. The awnings help, too. We have three electric fans, but like most places in Paris, the apartment is not air conditioned. If the weather were to stay hot for a week or more, as it did in 2003, we’d be in trouble, because the building’s stone walls would heat through, and would then radiate heat into the interior. We’d leave for Scotland. That’s our canicule plan. Normally, I am not too hungry in the morning. This morning was an exception. I just went out a few minutes ago, bought a scrumptious baguette at the baker, brought it home, and had a piece, with delicious French butter and fig preserves. I can’t tell you how nice it is to be able to go right out and buy wonderful bread, and to have three bakeries very nearby to choose from! This fresh, good bread cost only 90 eurocents. While I was out for that brief interval, I was very happy to see, for the first time this summer, the older lady who lives directly above the bedroom-end of “our” apartment. I was starting to worry that something had happened to her, because we hadn’t seen her and because the footsteps overhead were sounding different: younger, and more sprightly. Well, that’s because our older lady neighbor has lost some weight, and she’s looking great! We exchanged greetings out on the sidewalk. She smiled brightly upon recognizing me. I’m so pleased that she seems to be so well. Find me on Facebook

Saturday, August 18, 2012 The 1^st floor (one floor up from the ground level) of the Café du Commerce, looking out onto its would-be “terrasse” on the roof of part of the ground floor. A wall along one side of the “terrasse” has a mural painted on it – a copy of Renoir’s “Dance at the Moulin de la Galette.” Looking up through the opening created by the retractable glass roof. The restaurant was originally a fabric store, on three levels, before 1922 when it was turned it into a bouillon-style restaurant called Aux Mille Couverts, whose clientele were typically workers from nearby factories. After the war, it was acquired by the Chartier family who owned several bouillons. They named it Le Commerce. When the restaurant was renovated in 1988, it was renamed the Café du Commerce, after a newspaper column by Marcel Dassault. The Café du Commerce may have the best baba au rhum in Paris. It includes rum-soaked raisins (gold and brown), rich whipped cream, and cake that you soak with rum from a bottle that is brought to your table. Horse and buggy on the avenue de la Bourdonnais. A section of the Champ de Mars where the lawn is being given a chance to rest and recover from the trampling masses. ← Previous Next →