Coming Down from Montmartre's Split Personality

August 30, 2016 -- Montmartre has a split personality.  Parts of it retain a sleepy, quirky county-village quality, while other parts are solid tourist attractions which seem to be almost artificial.

We began with a sleepy, quirky village part by exiting the Lamarck-Caulincourt metro station and turning around immediately to climb the hill via old stone steps, under the shade of mature trees.  We veered off to the right on the shady Avenue Junot so that we could visit the charming lane called Via Leandre once again.  That is one of the few places you can find real townhouses in Paris.

Looking at Pont Neuf from the Passerelle des Arts

Continuing along the Avenue Junot, we noted the memorable modern house designed by Alfred Loos in 1925 for the writer Tristan Tzara.  Not far away, across the street, the fascinating sculpture of a man coming through a stone wall captures our attention.  It is by the Jean Marais, and was installed in this quiet spot in 1989.

Sculpture by Jean Marais, "Le Passe-Muraille."

The street changes names to the rue Norvins, and it leads right into that other kind of Montmartre, jam packed with souvenir shops, questionable cafés, and lots of tourists from all over the world.  The change is sudden, abrupt.

We looked off to the right at the busy Place du Tertre, with its outdoor cafes in the middle and portrait artists all around the edges, drawing the faces of willing tourists.

Walking on, we paused for a moment to listen to an elderly busker playing the accordion near the side of the Sacre Cœur church.  Tom put a euro in his case.  We turned the corner and gazed up at the elaborate church, then, turning our heads, we looked out at one of the spectacular panoramic views of the city.

View from Montmartre, in front of Sacre Coeur

Moving on through the plaza in front of the church, we stopped to watch three young men who were tap dancing on squares of plywood.  They had a tiny boom box that was putting out a lot of sound.  Tom admired their techniques and talents as percussionists, and so he put a few euros in their hat.

Tom just put some euros in the tap dancers'

We descended the steps of the rue Maurice Utrillo.  I was thankful we weren’t climbing them; there are so many!  We passed by the outdoor cafés at the bottom of the steps, and went on through the garden to the east of the Sacre Cœur steps.  We were in that quiet, country village of Montmartre again.  We paused to talk to and photograph a beautiful, young, orange-and-white cat who was lolling about and mewing for attention, just over the little fence next to our path.

Cat in the garden on Montmartre

Suddenly we were at the base of the Sacre Cœur steps, and were thrust back onto a busy, noisy commercial street with more souvenir shops.  We turned left and began our descent, out of schizophrenic Montmartre, down the rue des Martyrs, into the heart of the right bank.

We were thirsty, and Tom was hungry, so we began to look for a quiet café terrace just off the rue des Martyrs.  We wanted to be away from the traffic, and we needed to be in the shade.

At last, we saw something on the rue Choron that would do nicely.  Actually, we each saw different things.  Tom spotted bright red tables on the north side of the street, and I saw wooden tables under a mustard gold awning on the south side of the street.  I was puzzled about why Tom was veering to the north.

He laughed when he realized the red tables belong to the FranPrix grocery.  We’d never seen a FranPrix with café tables in front.

View from Chez Vous -- lots of parked motorcycles and cafe tables in front of FranPrix, on the rue Choron.

So we settled in at a table on the south side of the street, at a place called Chez Vous, around 4:30.  After we ordered beverages, Tom went inside to ask about something to nibble on.  A charcuterie and cheese plate was suggested, and soon it appeared before us.  It cost only 10 euros, and it was so very generous!  Once again, we had to spirit away some of the food in a shopping bag.

Chez Vous, at 15 rue Choron in the 9^th arrondissement, has some pretty good reviews on TripAdvisor, so you might want to try it if you are going to be near there at lunch or dinner.  We recommend it for drinks and snacks, for sure.  It is a friendly place, and prices are very reasonable.

Restored for walking, we continued the descent toward the Seine.   At the boulevard des Italiens, we paused to photograph the top of the old Credit Lyonnais bank headquarters.  We visited this fascinating building during Heritage Days in 2012, and I wrote about it in my Paris Journal on September 17 of that year.  Memories . . . .

Top of the old Credit Lyonnais building at 19 Boulevard des Italiens, in the 2nd arrondissement

By the time we reached the Louvre, we were thirsty again.  Tom bought a bottle of water for a euro from one of the illegal vendors.  The water sellers are the one type of illegal vendor that I don’t mind; they aren’t competing with legitimate businesses because there are no businesses selling water out there in these vast stretches of space where we walk, along with so many others.  Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.

We walked under an archway in the Louvre and skirted around the great glass pyramid.  We walked through another arch to be in the Cour Carrée, where we rested on a bench for a while.  A man played the flute in the archway behind us, putting sound to our relaxation.

We rose and walked through another archway, leading to the crosswalk to the Passerelle des Arts, with the Institut de France standing boldly on the other side of the Seine.  Soon we were back on the left bank again – our home turf.

The Passerelle des Arts and the Institut de France.

Turning right to walk for a bit along the Quai so we could reach the rue Bonaparte, we soon noticed that the Beaux Arts school had lots of reconstruction/renovation going on.  I look forward to visiting when the work is done.

Soon we were at the Place Saint Sulpice.  We entered the church and paused for a short time.  The church interior was still warm from the heat wave that passed two days ago.  It takes a while for all those stones to lose the heat.

Saint Sulpice altar

Then it was time to meet a new friend for drinks at the Café de la Mairie, on the Place Saint Sulpice.  We’d never met him before.  David was introduced to me via Facebook.  His girlfriend’s aunt is a friend of mine on Sanibel.  David was about to start a four-month study program at Sciences-Po, a part of the Sorbonne.  He’d never been in France before.

Over drinks we talked for an hour and a half about places he might go and things he might do while in this best city on Earth.  He’s about 25, graduated from Kent State University, and studied at Stanford Law.  He’s a charming, smart young man.

Place Saint Sulpice

Then Tom and I took the metro home.  We decided that at last we would dine at the neighborhood brasserie, Le Commerce Café (not the same as the Café du Commerce).  Amazingly, we’d not been to our casual neighborhood brasserie yet this summer!  Le Commerce was busy, but still had plenty of room for us.  Tom ordered pasta alfredo, and I ordered the Obama Burger (because it comes with both sautéed onions and pickles, plus a mysterious but good “sauce Americaine”).

We’d forgotten how copious the servings are at Le Commerce.  The generous portions are no doubt one of the reasons why the café is so popular.  I put aside most of the hamburger bun, and gave most of the fries to Tom.  Still, we had plenty of food left on the plates when we were done.  The server was concerned, and once again we had to explain that the food was good, but “c’est beaucoup.”

Back in the apartment, we read in the evenings.  That’s when Tom reads the news (which I read in the mornings), and when I read books or watch Netflix movies on my Kindle Fire.  We haven’t turned the TV on yet this summer.

Angel in Saint Sulpice.

Books I read this month include The Dream Lover:  A Novel of George Sand, by Elizabeth Berg, and Paris Without End:  The True Story of Hemingway’s First Wife, by Gioia Diliberto.  I recommend both highly.  In both cases, I was impressed with the amount of research done, and with the quality of the writing.

I also read The Paris Key, a novel by Juliet Blackwell, which was good entertainment, but not in the great literature category. 

Soon, I’ll probably be reading novels that take place in Florida.

Paris in the summer, when it sizzles

August 27, 2016 -- The restaurant Bacco on the rue Mademoiselle gets into the spirit of the 15^th arrondissement’s past with a décor that is “industrial.”  The tables have metal tops, the colors are dark, lighting is good, and lines are simple.  We were warmly greeted when we entered; the hostess called me “Madame Barbara.”

We were pleased that the air conditioning was turned on for this sizzling hot evening, but we noticed that it seemed a little weak.  Sure enough, as the dinner hour went on, more people filled the space, and the kitchen fired away – the dining room became uncomfortably warm.

Mural at the top of an apartment building near the avenue de la Motte Picquet

We were given a mis en bouche of velvety, cool potato soup with several other flavors blended in – too many to remember.  But it was delicious.

Our starter course was very good, too:  la burratina: mozzarella burratina D.O.P.*, pesto de pistache, caviar d’aubergine et jambon de Parme Ferrari 24 mois.  This was a mozzarella burrata with pistachio pesto, eggplant, and Parma ham aged 24 months.  Balsamic vinegar and olive oil were brought to the table with it, so I drizzled some on the plate.  I’ve never had a burrata that was so good!

Tom’s main course was l’onglet d’Angus : cœur d’onglet de bœuf Angus, sauce au poivre sauvage de Madagascar, pommes « Pont-Neuf », asperges vertes et carotte nouvelles.  These were morsels of Angus beef steak with wild pepper sauce from Madagascar, “Pont Neuf” potatoes (essentially, steak fries), asparagus, and baby carrots.  Tom said the beef was good, and correctly prepared given the type of cut.  But most interesting was the way the dish was arranged on its rectangular plate (below).

My main dish was le risotto tourteau-gambas: risotto à la chair de tourteau et au safran, gambas juste poêlées, pointes d’asperges vertes, coulis de pousse d’épinard au beurre noisette.  This was a crabmeat and jumbo shrimp risotto with saffron asparagus, and a spinach sauce with brown butter.  It looked beautiful but the flavor was a little heavy and dull.  The shrimp were almost overcooked, but not quite.  I didn’t finish the risotto, which caused the waiter a little concern.  He asked about it, and I explained that it was good, but “c’est beaucoup” – too much.

Crabmeat and jumbo shrimp risotto at Bacco.

Our shared dessert was le canon de cacao: Parfait glacé à la mangue, fruit de la passion, cylindre de cacao croustillant garni de mousse légère au chocolat blanc.  It was excellent!  The centerpiece of it was a cylinder made of a thin crust of cocoa filled with a light white-chocolate mousse. 

The cocoa cannon with white chocolate moose and mango sherbert.

Chef Olivier Thiebaut is doing a good job at Bacco, but the menu is short, so it is difficult to visit the restaurant very frequently – there just isn’t enough variety.  But it is open for both lunch and dinner, and its style of cuisine – a mix of French and Italian – is unique for the neighborhood.

The neighborhood was quiet again as I walked early this morning.  Joggers, delivery truck drivers, and a few walkers like me were the only people out and about as the sun rose just after 7AM.

I walked up the Avenue de la Motte Picquet.  When I was near the equestrian statue across from the Ecole Militaire, a little woman passing by me stopped to say, in French, that this is the only time of day when there is a little coolness for walking.  We chatted about the weather for a minute or two, and then went on our separate ways. 

The St Francois Xavier church on the
Boulevard des Invalides

If this were a small town, I wouldn’t have been surprised.  But to be stopped by a stranger on the streets of Paris just for idle chit-chat is very unusual.  I took it as a sign that this will be a good day.

I walked to rue Cler.  The only action on that market street was – you guessed it – several trucks making deliveries.  After inspecting that sleepy market, I continued on the rue de Grenelle to the Place Salvador Allende, then turned back to the Avenue de la Motte Picquet toward home.  On the way, I looked up to see a cute mural of an old blue race car at the top of an apartment building just off the avenue. 

I went on to the Place du Commerce again, because I’ve learned that pausing there for a rest before going home is a great way to cool off.  The park benches are clean, and the flower beds are stunning.

I sit beneath the trimmed chestnut trees with my back to the Commerce Café, so I just hear the pleasant clinking of tableware being arranged and set.  I pretend to look at my phone a little, but I’m really listening to the birds.

Another sizzling summer day has dawned in Paris.

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