Moar Paris!!

The day dawned bright and crisp, and we had lots of Parising to do, so we knew we needed a hearty breakfast. We set out in search of one and found a nifty spot in a quiet corner next to a park.

We hadn’t ever just kicked back and ordered coffee and relaxed, so we sort of did that. But with food.

We have it on good authority that in Paris (and perhaps elsewhere) croissants are not actually crescent shaped, but rather are straight. The quality ones, at least. Which I don’t know why that would make a difference, except that all the croissants we had in France were not curved. This in turn makes me wonder why they are called “croissants” in the first place, unless the literal translation of the French is “not really a crescent after all”. So, um, yeah.

We also had an omelet, and here is a picture of that omelet. I feel sort of silly for putting this picture up here, but that’s the mode for these entries, so here it is, even though I suspect nobody reading this is unfamiliar with an omelet, and there was nothing remarkable about this one, except that we killed it with our teeth and ate it.

It died well.

***

Parisians' parking-fu is powerful.

***

Kayso, that street, the Rue de Lotsa Shops? We went back, because we were going to do some sightseeing and then have a picnic. 

Do pictures of cheese shops ever get old? Not to me. Not these shops. Truly, these are just amazing. If I ever go back, I just want to set aside 400 euros and spend half a day just buying every type of cheese, one after the other, and tasting them. For today, however, we simply made a couple of purchases.

I loved this. Loved it to death. Super fresh produce, what actually tasted like what it was. Right there for the purchasing. We did so.

Of course, we needed a baguette, so bread store. We went to a couple of other stores on the same street, and tucked everything into our day pack, and set off for the sights. The baguette was too long to fit entirely into the day pack, and so it stuck out the top a bit. We totally dismissed the dork factor, because Paris, man!!!

***

We set off for our first Big Sight of the Day, described a little bit below, but on the way, we saw police motorcycles stopping traffic on a busy intersection. It was clear to us that there was some kind of something important that was going to use the street, but we had no idea what it would be. We stopped and watched. Pretty soon, this appeared.

The horses and their riders proceeded slowly. I thought it might be a funeral procession, but at the end of it, there was no hearse, or anything we could interpret that indicated to us what the occasion for the procession was.

The horses had chess boards shaved into their butts. I have no earthly idea what that signifies. So the whole event was kind of a Double Mystery. I kind of want to google it, but I actually cannot think of a string to google that would turn up the information I want to know.

But it was pretty cool to watch.

UPDATE! What the occasion was remains unknown to me, but my good friend Bill S. hipped me to the fact that these were cavalry from the Republican Guard. The checkerboard on the mounts are quarter marks, an ornamentation implemented not by shaving or trimming the hair, but combing it in different directions.

***

We continued on our way, walking along the river.

There it was in the distance. The Notre Dame cathedral. It had haunted my consciousness since I was a child, for various cinematic reasons. I had a hard time suppressing the urge to shout, “Sanctuary! Sanctuary for Esmeralda!!”

I knew it would be cool, but I had no idea how awesome the visual impact would be. It impressed even from a distance, as we approached.

One expects commercialization. I supposed that this was probably the least kitsch way to make bank on the legend.

There are no angles from which the Notre Dame cathedral is not impressive. If your objective is to build an imposing, commanding House Of God, and you don’t have Antoni Gaudí around to design one for you, this is an approach you might consider.

You pretty much can’t go wrong with gargoyles. Fun fact: for castle defense, hot oil was dropped on troops that were besieging castles and other structures. It gushed out of the mouths of gargoyles onto the attackers below. It appeared as if they were gargling oil, hence the name garg-oyl. Seriously. Look it up.

Then go to Urban Dictionary and execute a search on “reverse gargoyle”.

And the inside was no less impressive than the outside.

As an endless and thick stream of tourists walked up one side, and down the other, there was mass being celebrated.

I thought it odd to hold mass in the middle of a tourist attraction. And then I thought it odd to let tourists tour a working cathedral. And then I realized you could reasonably deny neither. And then I thought it odd to want to attend a mass when there would be a constant stream of tourists walking by. And then I thought, if I was Catholic, how could I not want to attend mass here, no matter what?

***

Back outside. Some of the figures carved into the facade appeared to be having a rougher time of it than the figures we saw carved into the Cathedral of of Saint-André.

The perceived level of threat was, apparently, not purely existential. This group of soldiers was patrolling the wide area of the grounds the entire time we were there.

As the Loaf Bearer, my responsibilities were perhaps less far reaching, but no less important (from a luncheon perspective).

Respectfully, I ask you please to not disturb my loaf.

***

We set off for a park in which to have lunch.

Past this arch was a cool park, with lots of grass, sculptures, and benches.

Looking back through the arch from the park side, there is a nice museum.

Julia said this statue reminded her of a South Park episode.

We found a park bench in the middle of the park, at the edge of the main walkway, and set up our picnic. We got many stares, which I chose to interpret to be glances of wistful longing.

Raw milk chèvre, raw milk sheep cheese, and Époisses, which I personally now believe to be the awesomest cheese in the universe. We had stopped in to the Honey Store and asked the proprietor for a honey that would go well with chèvre, and he sold us a small jar. So cool.

We chased it all with a Château Chasse-Spleen. It had a potent bouquet.

We had also stopped off at a chocolatier to stock our picnic. The sticks were dark chocolate orange sticks. What was, from the outside, a white blob covered in pistachios, turned out to be a truffle.

***

We were of a mind to look at some Art, but had only a couple of hours available. We chose the Musée d'Orsay, which is smaller than the Louvre.

But still huge.

Some cool and compelling sculpture...

It is seems plausible to imagine the marble guy holding some kind of social media device...

***

 We walked past the Louvre again on our way to dinner.

For dinner, we had selected Les Antiquaries. The buzz was that it was a very good location to visit for tartare.

For an aperitif, Julia got a cocktail du jour that showcased Aperol - basically an Aperol spritz. We concluded that Aperol is an acquired taste.

Vindication!! When I was a small child and visiting my grandmother, I would filch raw hamburger out of her refrigerator and eat it. Sometimes I put some catsup on it. When I got caught, I was typically informed that what I was doing was horribly wrong, and otherwise gross.

Well, take this, stuffy old people who scolded me!! A big puck of seasoned, ground up raw beef. This was seriously good. Granted, it wasn't ground chuck, and the seasoning was a tad more advanced than Heinz catsup. But I always knew that I had been, as a kid, on the right track.

Julia got a chunk of roast lamb, with potatoes and apple. The meat was lightly seasoned and very tender; the sauce rich and savory.

Crepes Suzette. They lit it on fire, but it went out, so we ate it.

My dessert was french toast, with caramel sauce and brown butter ice cream.

***

You can see some cool stuff inside the Louvre from the sidewalk outside...

l'Affable

Gear notes!!  We travelled with a pair of Eagle Creak Switchback 22's. The one on the left shows the backpack that zips on and off - for removal for carryon when flying. The main suitcase is designed specifically to meet carryon requirements. They are tough as nails. We have taken 2+ week trips using only the Switchbacks.

We had extra gear to take this time, for the bike ride portion (heh, and also picnic wine glasses, etc...), so we added North Face duffels. I can't recommend North Face duffels highly enough. It is easy to take a size larger than you need (to make room for souvenirs), and they have two compression straps on each side to cinch down and minimize the size of the load after packing, also keeping the contents secure from moving around thus removing a potential source of damage.

After breakfast we took a leisurely stroll to the metro and hopped a tram to the station to catch our train back to Paris

The TGV moves like a bat out of hell. I loved traveling by train in France, and had the same experience in Spain. Frequent trains, easy ticketing, easy boarding, easy everything.

***

For lunch, we strolled the neighborhood near our guesthouse, and came across Les Petites Bouchees. It was a tapas restaurant!

It was cozy and laid back. We sat at that table in the back left. The music was "artist oriented oldies" (or, in our case, "music we grew up with"), with a five or six selections from a given artist playing before rolling to someone else.

It was a cool change of pace from the standard entree/main/dessert drill. We had gone on tapas crawls in Spain, and had a blast. What would the experience be like here? We chose six items. There was an eclectic mix of options available, with only a couple of overt nods to traditional Spanish tapas fare. However, there was sangria on the menu.

We indulged.

The food fit the tapas esthetic to a tee. A diverse collection of morsels with savory seasoning accents and/or an accompanying sauce.


Calamari with a dynamite aoli. Seared chorizo in a white wine sauce. Serrano ham and cheese quesadilla. Crunchy vegetable wraps with a delicate asian sauce. Kefta with a tsatsiki.

The sangria was spot on. When we paid our tab at the counter, we saw the cutting board still there with the citrus rinds from when our server had prepared our last carafe.

Savory, tender, sweet duck drumsticks, pictured here with Carafe #3. Total umami experience. Literally and figuratively, we sucked the bones clean. We sat back, immersed in sangria happiness, and marveled again about how good the French are with duck, while David Bowie's "Life On Mars" played in the background. Unexpectedly extra-groovy.

Carmel raspberry cheesecake to cap it off. The bottom crust was a bit burned, and lent that taste to the dessert. It kind of fit, actually, though it was a harsh accent. We didn't leave any of it behind. I'm still uncertain whether the slightly blackened bottom crust was intentional. Probably I'm just overly enchanted, and the idea that lightly burning a cheesecake crust could be an intentional cooking thing is patently ridiculous. But with food, the French are really crafty.

***

Up two blocks from our lodgings and turn left, and this is the view along the Rue Saint Antoine. We strolled along the street, peeking into shops, and it struck me just how many cool shops there were, one after the other. In the space of one and a half (short) blocks, we passed the following:

The smell coming off the roasting fowl on the spits was heavenly

Things that have been grown to put in your mouth

Things that have been grown to give to your sweetie

Breads and pastries

Ready to go Asian

Ready to go sushi

Cheese! If you've never smelled a real cheese shop...

A shop devoted entirely to honey

More fresh fruits and produce

Things that have been grown to decorate your home

Things that have been grown to put in your mouth, that are made out of meat

***

We passed a very special building on our walk.

Jim Morrison died here (somewhere inside).

I couldn't feel his presence, though, and later that night I received no messages from Beyond. Almost makes one wonder if he's really gone...

***

Because of some kind of room-management mixup at our guesthouse, we got bumped up to a premium room at the location.

"Um... Okay. S'cool." pretty much summed up our reaction to the bed situation. I flopped down for a drowsy snoose before dinner. Worked just fine.

Part of the charm of the room, and it was in fact charming, was the interior decor combined with the odd geometry. This is the view from the bed.

***

We had reservations at l'Affable for dinner. We pulled the locale out of an article in Forbes about places to eat in Paris. It was described as relaxed, comfortable and friendly. Patrons were almost exclusively locals. The menu was described as simple, and changing with whatever was available. The author recommended gravitating toward whatever the specials might be.
 

We found the description to be spot on. The waitstaff was friendly, very attentive, and relaxed. The environment was close and intimate yet unoppressive. Glancing around the dining room, I was pretty sure we were the youngest people there. I am also certain beyond doubt that we were the least affluent.

Amuse bouche of tuna chunks with lardons (bacon nuggets to me).

We ordered from the menu of daily specials. For the entree, we shared mushroom fricassee, which was amazingly yummy mushrooms served with yummy bits of other stuff.

While we were noshing on the mushrooms and making oohing and ahhing noises, one of the servers came out with a ginormous piece of roast meat on a board and smiled. "This is your dinner", she said, and then whisked it and herself away before I could think to take a picture of it.

The next time we saw it, it had been divided up, and looked like this:

Veal roast, for two. With garlic, and juices that we unabashedly mopped up with bits of bread before we let them take the plates away.

 To accompany, we had selected a light, silky 2010 Volnay - Premier Cru Champans.

We each received a side of mashed potatoes and gravy. Prior to this trip, I had never had mashed potatoes that I wanted to describe as tasting "fresh, bright and happy", but this made two for two.

Meat, potatoes, and outstanding wine. This elegantly simple combination left us able to do little else except to comment on the gustatory bliss we were experiencing. We did also talk about how evil veal was, and how we were bad, yes, very very bad for wanting it so much. And then we tasted more of it, and it was so good so tremendously powerfully incredibly good oh god oh god Oh GOD!! MMmmmnnnnnnnhhh... so good.

Hey. At the end of the day, we're the ones with the opposable thumbs.

For dessert, I got chocolate souffle. I've pictured it next to my fork, for scale. It came with a separate serving of softly whipped cream. I had never eaten chocolate souffle before, so I did not know what to expect. As it turns out, chocolate souffle has many dimensions, all of them fabulous.

The top part was essentially a crunchy chocolate brownie cookie. In the middle, it was runny and gooey, like a warm, rich chocolate pudding or mousse. On the bottom and up the sides of the dish, it was very like a moist chocolate cake. All aspects imparted a stout chocolate impact, devastating in combination with the cream, like Three Faces of Eve, except if it was Three Faces of Chocolate, and each of Chocolate's personalities was your Best. Friend. Ever.

Julia's dessert was roast figs and mascarpone, dusted with... dessert dustings. The flavors, seasonings, consistencies and mouthfeel combined and cris-crossed over multiple dimensions.


We ambled off into the night on a cloud of contentment.