Paris Journal 2014 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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When I left the apartment for an errand to Monoprix, I was unprepared for the chaos on the square. I’d forgotten that it was brocante weekend on the Place Saint Sulpice. So many neighborhood residents wanted booths for selling their cast-offs that the square could not hold them all; the sidewalks around the square were used as well, making the rue Palatine along the south side of the square almost unnavigable. The square was absolutely jammed with people – mostly locals. Somehow I made my way around and past it. Then I was amazed at how many people crowded the sidewalks on the rue Bonaparte. Monoprix was busy, too; it was already 5 or 6PM. On my way back, I avoided the Place Saint Sulpice as much as possible, but I had to navigate the rue Palatine, or else go far out of my way. The peace and quiet of the apartment felt so good as I shut the door behind me. When we went out for dinner, the streets were still busy, but not impossible. We went around, via the rue des Quatre Vents and the Carrefour de l’Odéon to walk directly across the boulevard Saint Germain to the rue de l’Ancienne Comédie. Our dinner reservation was at the venerable Procope – “the oldest café in Paris” (although it has not been in continuous operation). It isn’t a café now, but rather an elegant restaurant. Our reservation was early because we wanted to get a table afterwards at Café Laurent to hear live jazz, and because Tom prefers to eat early during times like this when he is working hard on a book. He sleeps better if he eats a bit early, by Paris standards. Unfortunately, the early reservation time in this particular area means being surrounded by tourists, mostly American. Now I like Americans very much, but some of them are so uncomfortable in Paris (particularly in a posh restaurant like this where more is at stake) that they make me uncomfortable just seeing and hearing them. Also, there are those few? several? among them who are just plain rude. I gained a whole new level of appreciation for Parisian servers last night. The job is difficult, and these professionals pull it off with such finesse. I noted that sometimes tourists seem rude because they are too blunt in their speech; they don’t use enough nice fillers like please, thank you, that’s so nice, that’s so kind of you, oh I really appreciate that, that was really good. But last night I concluded that one reason they don’t is because they’re nervous. So we use our ultra-polite French to put these servers at ease, and to thank them, even though they speak English quite passably. I’d done my research on Le Procope and its specialties, and decided in advance that I would order either the coq au vin or the rognons de veau (calf’s kidneys). Because rognons de veau must be cooked just right or else they’re either gross or rubbery, I decided to order the coq au vin this time, in hopes that we go back again. Now I am certain that we will go back. The food was heavenly. My coq au vin, which arrived in a copper pot, was bursting with rich flavor.
Tom’s lamb chops could not have been better. We ordered dessert, too, even though we were running out of time. Tom had the profiteroles, and I had crêpes flambées au Grand Marnier. Outstanding! The man from New Jersey at the table next to us was not just nervous; he was truly rude and drunk. His use of foul language was almost too much for me to tolerate. By dessert time, I wanted so much to move to a different table, but there were none available. The dining room was full. We stayed put and endured the rude cacophony from the New Jersey man’s mouth. The man’s wife tried to make up for her husband’s poor manners by starting a conversation with us. She asked where in the States we were from. Tom answered, “Florida,” but I think it was apparent that we wanted to be left alone. Then I explained to the server, in French, that we had a concert to go to, so would it please be possible to have the check, while we were still having dessert. He was very nice about that; I think he could sense why we wanted to get away from New Jersey. By the time we reached Café Laurent, the music had started, but “our” table was still available. We sat right down and made ourselves comfortable. Soon, Laurent was at my ear, asking what we’d like to drink. I smiled at him and gave our order; to show he remembered us, he finished saying the last part of the order for me. I grinned and said a big “merci, monsieur!” He smiled back. With our drinks, once again Laurent brought us a special little treat of peanuts and dried fruit bits in one shot-glass size dish, and olives in another. He only gives these to his favorite customers, it seems; although I’m sure if anyone asked, he’d bring them the treats as well. Laurent has that café running like clockwork. And the music flowed. Christian Brenner is a supremely talented pianist and musical leader, and yet he is so humble and generous. I just love that guy for his talent, and for the way he shares the limelight. For Christian, it is all about the music and people enjoying it. The amazing Olivier Robin was playing drums again, and a bass player whom we’ve heard there in the past, Gilles Naturel, accompanied them. Monique Thomas, the guest vocalist, was fantastic. Her voice is like gold, and she’s been well-educated and trained as a jazz musician. She’s recently started a school to teach European vocalists how to sing in English with an American accent and clear diction. Monique is originally from Philadelphia, and she is not to be confused with the British singer named Monique Thomas, who, in my opinion, is not as gifted or accomplished as the American Monique (although the British Monique is better known, judging by numbers of YouTube views). The American-French Monique sometimes uses her married name, Monique Thomas-Ottoviani. She’s married to a drummer from Bordeaux, Didier Ottoviani. She uses her voice like a saxophone or clarinet, although she is capable of being a trumpet, too. Her voice is sweet and clear, yet strong and full. I could just sit and listen to her for hours. But after two sets, it was time to go. We’d enjoyed being there, and the audience (mostly Americans) was super appreciative and polite. When we left that ultra-civilized and comfortable place called Café Laurent, we went back out into the wild streets. And I mean wild, as in “savage.” At that hour, almost midnight, half of the people out there are drunk and really loud. They’ve lost their inhibitions. How anyone can live or sleep in that neighborhood, on the rue Dauphine and the Carrefour de Buci area, is something I cannot understand. Then the normally calm rue Palatine was assaulted by the noises and drunken screams coming from a wild party in a second-floor apartment with open windows. We turned the corners, and even on the rue du Canivet, there was a group of teenage girls sitting on the pavement, drinking rum and coke. Yuck. “Be prepared for hangovers, girls,” I thought to myself. Still, when we ascended to our apartment, all was calm, all was quiet. Bonne nuit!
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Sunday, September 14, 2014
Restaurant Le Procope, on
the rue de l’Ancienne Comédie.
An amuse bouche
of duck confiture and a Laguiole knife.
There are several sizable dining rooms at Le Procope; Ben
Franklin presides over this one. The
French liked Ben, and he liked them.
The couple from New Jersey is reflected in the mirror.
The crêpes flambées
au Grand Marnier were exciting!
Olivier Robin on drums, Gilles Naturel on bass, and vocalist
Monique Thomas. Christian Brenner is
behind that Steinway.
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