Solidarity, served cold

Remember how you felt when you got your first library card of your very own?  You felt like the world was now accessible to you, right?

We were almost that excited to get our library cards at the American Library of Paris yesterday.  Because this is a private library, these cards cost us about a hundred euros for a four-month family membership.

La Terrasse brasserie, where we had a simple dinner on Monday.

Two of the books we needed for work were there, on the shelves in the open stacks.  We checked them out for a few weeks. 

We noted that the library, which is open Tuesday through Saturday from 1pm to 7pm, is air conditioned.  This may come in handy next week when we are supposed to have another three-day heat wave.  Brains work better when heads are cool.

The second edition of Norton's Huck Finn was edited just by
Tom, even though first edition editors' names are still on the book.
The other book is Tom's Ivory Leg in the Ebony Cabinet:  Madness,
Race and Gender in Victorian America.  Ever wonder where our
nation's current racism comes from?  This book will tell you.

The library is a 30-minute, gentle walk from our apartment, on the other side of the Eiffel Tower and Champ de Mars -- in the 7th arrondissement, which is home to so many important institutions.  The address is on the little Rue du Général Camou, which has a great view of the Eiffel Tower at one end, and a lovely view of the ultra-Art Nouveau building designed by Lavirotte at the other end.

When we arrived home, books in hand and library cards in pocket, we had just enough time to rest and clean up for dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, L'Ardoise du Quinzieme -- another 30-minute walk away.  The name of the place means Blackboard of the 15th -- the blackboard referring to the slate where the daily specials are listed.

We both selected the Pluma d'Ibérique --- a Spanish or Basque cut of tender pork -- for the main course.  It was sautéed and served with a sauce made from its juice, accompanied by a delicious pile of gently cooked peas, lima beans, tomatoes and carrot slices.  The dish was colorful and tasty.  Because there was more meat than we eat in a meal, we slipped a couple plumas in a plastic bag to take home.  We fight against gaspillage, or the wasting of food.

Pluma d'Iberique at L'Ardoise du Quinzieme.

Dessert was a brioche perdu (like French toast with caramel sauce) for Tom, and a peach melba for me.  These were both absolutely delightful.  The peach was covered in a raspberry sauce that could not have been better.

Over dinner, I told Tom about an article I saw on a City of Paris web site about "frigos solidaires" (unity fridges).  These are glass-doored refrigerators placed out in front of a restaurant or other business during the day to provide refrigerated food to those in need.  The food is donated by businesses or residents in the neighborhood.

Peach Melba at L'Ardoise du Quinzieme.

Here in Paris, this aspect of the anti-gaspillage movement was started by a young restaurateur, Dounia Mebtoul, who had seen them in use in London, where she had worked for a while.

Food in the unity fridges can be fruits, vegetables, biscuits, groceries, and products with an expiration date that has not passed and that are still in their packages.

The first of these unity fridges was placed in front of La Cantine du 18e -- the restaurant run by Dounia and her mother, Malika -- in June 2017.   Every day, about 40 donors put food in this fridge.  About 50-some people take food out of it, including students, retirees, people with large families, single-parent households, and homeless folks.

Brioche perdu at L'Ardoise du Quinzieme.

Dounia says the fridge creates ties between the recipients and the donors -- and even the customers at the restaurant.  They have discussions and undertake projects together.  This puts a new spin on the expression "waste not, want not."

Several months after the appearance of this first unity fridge, an organization called Identités Mutuelle became interested in the undertaking.  They formed an association, Les Frigos Solidaires.  As a result, these unity fridges are popping up all over France.  The Paris city council has also committed to financing 15 of these fridges as a part of the city's Tous Récup project.

If even half of these fridges create the kind of good will and synergy that Dounia's first fridge has, the city -- even the world -- will be a better place for all.

Crazy crowds and peaceful places

August 4, 2017 – Crowds – we hope to avoid them – especially crowds so thick you can hardly move.

That’s what we found when we emerged from the Palais Royale Musée du Louvre metro station and moved toward the entrance to the Musée des Arts Decoratifs.  This decorative arts museum is located in the west wing of the Louvre, but it has its own separate entrance on the rue de Rivoli.  If it didn’t seem to be too crowded, we intended to go visit it.  But the extremely long line told us that, even if we’d bought tickets online and avoided the line of people waiting to get in, we would still find a museum that was uncomfortably crowded inside.  

Perhaps it is the Christian Dior special exhibition that is drawing the large crowd.  We will try to go some other time; there is nothing we want to see so much that we’d endure a crowd like that.

Pink flamingos atop the Rosa Bonheure cafe barge, with the statues of the Pont Alexandre III in the background.

We walked down the rue de Rivioli, and on its eastern stretch, we found those sidewalks to be uncomfortably crowded, too.  We would have fled to the streets to the north of there except that Tom wanted to visit the English-language bookstores on Rivoli – Galignani and W. H. Smith. 

On our way from the crazy part of the rue de Rivoli to the bookstore part, we strolled more easily along the stretch that is home to some of the most luxurious hotels in Paris – Le Meurice, for example.  There was room to move there, without so many souvenir shops.

In the bookstores, Tom was looking for some French language books for English speakers.  He didn’t find anything he wanted to buy, but we both enjoyed browsing through the sizeable shops.  W.H. Smith, in particular, is looking much better organized and displayed than it did years ago.  Before the internet became so useful, we used to spend a large amount of money in these two bookstores every summer, along with Brentano’s on the avenue de l’Opera, during our summertime stays.  We did it even though their prices are jacked up.  That spending was necessary, because of Tom’s work on English composition textbooks. 

View from our table on the Rosa Bonheure.

He's still writing textbooks, but can find the readings and samples needed, for the most part, via the internet.

Once we finished looking around at W.H. Smith, we headed for the Place de la Concorde again.  I enjoyed the vast area away from traffic once again, and Tom tolerated the monumental space.  When we reached the Seine, we decided to descend to its banks on the left bank side.  Oh, this part of Paris is so much more serene than that crazy area around the Louvre and Notre Dame!  I guess we’re just naturally left bank people.

At the Rosa Bonheure café barge, we stopped for refreshments, as we often do.  There is more competition for the Rosa now, and half of the barge was closed for repairs.  So we shared the part that was open with only a few other customers.  We like the simple honesty of the Rosa Bonheure space, and its great view of the Pont Alexandre III.

Restaurant/cafe barges along the left bank of the Seine.

The Rosa seemed ready to welcome we South Floridians in particular; there were two pink flamingo floats on its roof.

We took our usual route home, pausing in the garden of the Musée du Quai Branly for a rest in the smooth white shelter that’s occasionally used for classes.

We crossed the Champ de Mars right at the foot of the Eiffel Tower.  The driver of a car pulled quickly onto the sidewalk in front of us and stopped.  That was a nutty thing to do.  We walked on, behind the car, when the driver suddenly put it in reverse.  We each reacted quickly and simultaneously by raising a hand in a “stop” motion and shouting, “HEY!”

Fortunately, the driver stopped and made an apologetic gesture when I turned to look at him as we walked quickly away. 

I thought, moments later, that this could have been one of those incidents when someone drives into a crowd, intending to harm people.  But it wasn’t that, thank heavens.  This was just some frustrated driver using poor judgement, desperately trying to turn around.

Statue representing Lille on the Place de la Concorde.

We should have avoided the crowd at the foot of the Tower.  We will from now on.

The rest of the walk was peaceful and uneventful.  Even a short trip into Monoprix for my V8 juice (the only place I have found it in Paris) was surprisingly serene; usually that Grenelle store is crowded in the late afternoon.  But vacation time is here.  Over in the left bank, at least, Paris is calmer than usual as Parisians close up and head for the countryside for a few weeks.

Meanwhile, tourists from elsewhere flood into Paris.  But they gravitate mostly to the first six arrondissements.  The Eiffel Tower is our neighborhood’s only major tourist attraction.

We’re glad of it. 

The vast space of the Place de la Concorde, in the middle of everything in Paris.

The shops that have not closed for vacation are offering special deals.  The para-pharmacy on the rue du Commerce was once again offering a super deal on liquid soap from Marseilles; just as we did two summers ago, we bought plenty for the apartment – probably enough to last for another two years.

As we dine in our favorite restaurants in the 15^th, we dine with locals.  The occasional other English speakers show up, but often we are the only foreigners in the dining room.

Such was the case when we dined at L’Ardoise du XV  last night (70 rue Sebastien Mercier, off the rue St. Charles, just south of the rue de la Convention).  Our shared starter course was a country terrine that was home made.  Our main courses were a roasted guinea fowl breast with spring vegetables for me, and a pluma de negra dish of roasted pork with girolle mushrooms for Tom.  We shared a dessert that was a light version of a strawberry crumble.  As you’d expect in a restaurant run by someone (Maxime Vilatte and his wife Marie) who has earned the maître restaurateur designation, the food was all delicious and freshly made from top-quality ingredients – honest, simple, good food, beautifully presented.

Country terrine at L'Ardoise du XV.

We enjoyed our dinner there very much, and we were pleased that the restaurant is doing so well.  The place filled up with locals.  When the resto first opened just five years ago, it did so on a tight budget, we could tell.  We did not make it to L’Ardoise last year due to our abbreviated stay.  So it had been two years since we’d seen it, and evidently during those two years the resto has done well and built up a reliable clientele of locals.  We’re happy for the owners.

Meeting at the Café

August 31, 2016 – Dick Walsh passed away in 2011, and the citizens Sanibel Island miss him still.  We always will.  He was a fine lawyer and a great Floridian, who served on the Sanibel City Council and was involved with the Committee of the Islands, a non-partisan political committee that I led for four years.

Tom and I had the good fortune to be able to spend a couple hours with his daughter Abra yesterday.  Several times as Dick and I sat next to each other in Sanibel’s city hall years ago, Dick had told me about Abra.  He just knew that she and I would have a lot in common, much to talk about.  My interest in the urban life and landscape, and her background in city planning, plus the love we all feel for Sanibel – yes, we have much to talk about.

He wanted us to meet.  I did meet Abra at the memorial service for Dick in January 2011.  (Five months later, my own father died.)

Abra has lived in France for twenty-some years, I believe.  She and her French husband have raised a family here, in the town of Versailles.  They were away for vacation for most of August, but before they left, Abra was sure to set up a time when we could get together and talk.

She suggested meeting at one of our favorite places, the café at the Petit Palais museum, after she had a business appointment in the city yesterday afternoon.

The Pont Alexandre III with the Petit Palais in the background.

We sipped on Badoit.  Each of us ate a macaroon.  Mostly, we talked and talked. 

We loved Abra’s resonant voice.  She does not sound like she’s from her home town of Chicago anymore.  She almost has a French accent when she speaks English!  She claims that her English has deteriorated.

We talked about family, education, cities, food, architecture, Tom’s textbooks, you name it.  Those were two fascinating hours.

After leaving the café, walked through two galleries and talked about some of the paintings in that great permanent collection.  Then the museum started to close up, and Abra needed to catch her train back to Versailles.

So we said our goodbyes and made plans to keep in touch about next summer. 

Tom and I walked back to the apartment just in time to change clothes and walk to dinner at L'Ardoise du Quinzieme, on the rue Sebastien Mercier.

Back of the dining room at Ardoise du Quinzieme

This restaurant just opened last year, and we were fortunate enough to find it then, with the help of Lafourchette.com.  We enjoyed our dinner there last year, and hoped that the place would survive.

It has.  There were signs of success here and there in the décor.  Two cheerful young women ran the dining room, and we never saw the chef.  He was too busy making magic in the kitchen.

Cod with white beans

Our server suggested we try a new hors d’oeuvre that the restaurant was offering for just 6 euros.  We said yes, and she brought out a little plate with six piping-hot fish fritters and a bit of sweet and sour sauce.  The fritters were perfect.

Duckling filets with smooth potatoes.  Apricots are superb this season.

Tom ordered the cod filet served on a bed of big, softly cooked white beans, and I had the roasted duckling filet on a bed of velvety puréed potatoes.  Each of us had a millefeuille with vanilla cream for dessert – a classic, light and airy French pastry.

Millefeuilles with vanilla cream.

The restaurant successfully filled with patrons.  We felt finely fed and ready to walk again.  I like it when the restaurant is a 30-minute walk from the apartment, because that gives us another hour of walking, in addition to whatever hike we may have taken earlier in the day.

Tonight we will dine with our friends the Beckmans, about an hour’s walk from our apartment.  The plan is to try a new Brazilian place.  I hope I have time to tell you about it tomorrow.  If not, see you next summer!

Autumn has arrived in Paris.

  (Click here for previous day's journal entry.)

Autumn has arrived in Paris.  After working at the computers, while the sun shone in the late afternoon, we went for a walk.  I thought we’d go to the Allée des Cygnes because rush hour was just starting, and that’s a nice place to go to escape the automobile traffic.

But as we approached the Seine on the rue Linois, the wind picked up.  That wind was chilly, and Tom did not have a jacket.  He shivered.  I suggested we enter the Beaugrenelle mall and do the rest of our walking there.  So we walked through the entire thing, on every level, and then walked through the second floor wing that lead back toward the Place Charles Michels.

The walk back to the apartment along the leafy avenue Emile Zola was pleasant enough, and Tom stopped in the bakery on the rue du Theatre to buy a baguette.

In the evening, we had another walk, down to the rue de la Convention – which is looking good these days -- and over to the rue Saint Charles, then a block south to the rue Sebastien Mercier, home of L’Ardoise du XV.

This was the second time we’d dined at L’Ardoise, although it has been in business since 2012.  The proprietors are Chef Maxime Vilatte and his wife Marie.  Chef Maxime had worked with Philippe Legendre at the Four Seasons – George V hotel, and will David Alves at La Table de Joel Robuchon.  With that solid background, he was ready for his own place.

Chef Maxime and Marie have qualified for the Maitre Restaurateur designation, and that was one of the characteristics that attracted me to the place last month.

Now I’m attracted by the inventiveness of the cuisine.  The food isn’t the same-old same-old; when you’ve been in Paris for months and think you might be tired of French food, you go to a place like L’Ardoise du XV and you change your mind.

I ordered the calamari starter and was pleasantly surprised by its spiciness.  The sauce, which was supposed to be Mediterranean, was actually a piquant curry, and the calamari was not overcooked.  The dish woke up my senses.

Calamari in curry sauce at L'Ardoise

Next came our main courses:  a volaille fermière rotie aux girolles for Tom, and a ventrèche de porc caramelisée, pommes écrassées a l’échalote et ciboulette for me.

Roasted chicken, salad, and purée of potatoes

Tom’s chicken was a tender, juicy pressée of roasted chicken – both white and dark meat – and it came with a velvety potato purée as well as the girolle mushrooms. 

My pork belly was perfectly sautéed, and the potatoes were not écrassée (smashed), they were really a fine purée with tiny bits of green onions and chives throughout.  At first I thought the meat looked like mostly fat, but that was not the case; it was a tender, juicy cut of pork.

Pork belly with purée of potatoes with green onions and chives.

Tom had the homemade millefeuille au chocolat for dessert; it was delicious.

The server was Marie, I think, and she was doing a fine job of keeping order in the dining room.  The place is neat as a pin, and perfectly organized.

In the evening, I resumed reading.  One of the tomes I’m reading now is Emile Zola’s The Ladies’ Paradise (Au Bonheur des Dames), a novel that is roughly based on the rise of the Bon Marché department store in Paris.

I'm photographing the menu posted in the window
of L'Ardoise as Tom watches.

I say “roughly” because there are many differences between the fictional character Octave Mouret and the real-life Aristide Boucicaut of Bon Marché.  In fact, I think Mouret is an amalgam of Selfridge in London and Boucicaut in Paris.  So it isn’t surprising that BBC’s adaptation of Zola’s book takes place in Britain instead of France.  I’d already finished watching BBC’s Mr. Selfridge series, and last night I started BBC’s The Paradise series, even while I’m still reading The Ladies Paradise.

Each time I’ve read a Zola book, I have complained to Tom about what I don’t like about Zola’s writing.  Zola’s style is overly flowery, and sexist.  (Last summer, I read Le Ventre de Paris (The Belly of Paris), a novel that takes place in the old market of Paris, Les Halles.)  Tom says I haven’t read Zola’s best works yet:  Germinal, and L’Assommoir.  Now I’ve downloaded an edition of the complete works of Zola on my Kindle Fire, so I’ll read those next.

I’m reading these in English, not French.  I’d read them in French, but I know that with Zola’s overly flowery prose, it would not be easy. 

I agree with Elmore Leonard, who said:  “If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.” 

Leonard also wrote a handy list of ten “commandments,” that is, things to avoid when writing.  Zola violates the last two of those “rules”: 

9.  Don’t go into great detail describing places and things.

10.  Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.

On that note, I think I’ll stop writing for today.  (Click here for previous day's journal entry.)