Fasting and feasting in Paris

July 3, 2018 -- A few weeks ago, I started 12 hour fasting every day.  That is to say, I eat nothing for 12 hours, then I eat when I'm hungry in the next 12 hours. 

Combine that with a 6-hour time-zone change and bam!  I felt the burn of hunger fiercely yesterday by the time I was allowing myself to eat (about 11:30AM).  Tom was hungry, too.  The cleaning lady was cleaning the apartment, so we went to a neighborhood corner café, La Tour Eiffel.  This was the first place in Paris that we ever dined together, in August 1998.  We've been there many times since.

The café is in a picturesque spot at what was once the center of the village of Grenelle.  We entered, selected a table, and were served espresso and café au pot de lait within minutes.  Soon the server gave us the lunch menu, and we decided to have our main meal of the day there.

As we finished our coffees and decided what to order for lunch, rain began to fall gently on the streets outside.  Happily, we were sitting inside.

Beef Carpaccio at La Tour Eiffel on the Place Etienne Pernet.

Tom had a beautiful carpaccio of beef with crispy fries, and I had the pork filet mignon with an incredible rich sauce and savory mushrooms, accompanied by a light, fluffy purée of sweet potatoes.  We were so thirsty from travel and heat that we consumed a very large bottle of San Pellegrino water, no problem.

Ah, restored.  Absolutely restored, we felt.  That was an excellent lunch, in a calm café.

On our way to the café, we had noticed that the Place du Commerce park was re-named since last summer.  It is now known as Square Yvette-Chauviré.

This park, created in 1873, is of a classic French design, with mature, squared-off chestnut trees lining shaded walkways on each side.  In the middle is a narrow lawn, some flowerbeds, and a charming gazebo-bandstand.  Farther back in the park are ping-pong tables, a little playground for little ones, and a place to play boules.

Yvette Chauviré was an accomplished dancer -- a real prima ballerina; she lived in one of the apartments overlooking this park until she died last year at age 99.  She ended her ballerina days in 1972, and after that, she taught dance.

Mignon de porc with mushrooms, whipped sweet potatoes and lamb's lettuce.

[In case anyone is wondering about the 12-hour fast, let me explain.  I have a thyroid problem, and in spite of being under the care of endocrinologists for years, my metabolism still hasn't been right.  I read about intermittent fasting (IF) in Scientific American and another publication, and though it might be the answer for me.  This is not a diet; my eating habits are good (plenty of fruits and veggies, good portion control, avoiding white flour and white sugar, etc.) and I work out for 1 or 2 hours every day.  My endocrinologist says I have "the heart of an athlete."  The problem is metabolism.  So far, I've lost 4 pounds in 4 weeks, without dieting -- simply by changing the times that I eat/don't eat.  My hope is that IF is boosting my metabolism.]

The last arrondissement

Just inside the main entrance to Pere Lachaise cemetery.

August 13, 2017 -- Many people visit the Père Lachaise cemetery to see Jim Morrison’s final resting place.  If you are interested in that sort of thing, visit this page on another person’s blog to read about 10 famous people in that famous cemetery.

Tom and I, however, were not interested in seeing any particular person’s grave.  I planned the walk to include the 20^th and 11^th arrondissements because the 20^th was the only arrondissement we have not been to this summer.  I’m not sure about the 11^th, but now we definitely have them all covered.  We’ve been all over the city this year.

The Père Lachaise cemetery was the only thing I wanted to see in the 20^th.  I like big old Parisian cemeteries because they are quiet, verdant spaces, with plenty of mature trees and interesting statues.

Twenty years ago, there were plenty of feral cats in the cemeteries.  Due to a systematic program of sterilization, the feral cats are now gone.  I miss them, but I understand why they had to go.

I think my favorite of the big Paris cemeteries is Montparnasse.  It has the best trees, and I like the layout of that place.

We entered the small gate at the northwest corner of Père Lachaise.  Then we walked a looping path through the northwest quadrant of the vast place.  I made an effort distance ourselves from a family of French tourists who were too noisy; one must remember that this is where people are visiting the graves of lost loved ones.  People should always be quiet and respectful in cemeteries.

We admired some beautiful statues and a few interesting graves from recent years.  One was not marked, except for a U.S. Mail mailbox.

After a half-hour trek, we exited the main gate and began our walk in the 11^th arrondissement along the rue de la Roquette.  We paused at the Square de la Roquette to look into this park established on the grounds of a former prison for women and juvenile delinquents. 

From 1690 to 1789, this was the site of a convent.  In the 19^th Century, it became the prison de la Petite Roquette, keeping the fortress-chateau architecture from the convent days.  La Petite Roquette remained a prison until 1973.  In 1974, it was demolished to make way for this handsome park, opened in 1977.

Square de la Petite Roquette, above and below.

That park was the nicest thing we saw in that part of the 11^th.  Because of the number of loud, aggressive drunk people and loud, roaming groups of adolescents, coupled with the general disrepair of buildings and infrastructure, I was uneasy in this part of the city.  That rarely happens to me in Paris.

Across the street from La Petite Roquette had been another prison, La Roquette, which housed hardened criminals and death row.  In fact, it was the final location of Paris’s final guillotine.

Perhaps that history of prisons still weighs upon this neighborhood.  Anyway, it is not my favorite part of the city.

Dovecote in the Square de la Petite Roquette

The situation improved after we passed the Place Leon Blum.  We passed a synagogue and a family of Hasidic Jews.  As we neared the boulevard Richard Lenoir, we passed interesting narrow, cobbled streets harboring cute shops.  We turned on the rue Daval and proceeded up the boulevard Richard Lenoir.

In some ways, this boulevard is like the boulevard Pereire in the 17^th, with its series of parks all in a row, making up the median of the boulevard.  But this neighborhood in the 11^th is not as chic and quietly residential as that one in the 17^th.  We had to keep our urban guard up in the 11^th. 

Cour Damoye in the 11th arrondissement.

(Beneath the boulevard Richard Lenoir is the canal St. Martin.  The 11^th arrondissement decided some time ago to cover the canal, whereas the 10^th arrondissement decided to keep it open.  Pedestrian bridges cross the canal at regular intervals in the 10^th.)

We were ready for a break when we reached the boulevard Voltaire, so we turned there in search of a brasserie for refreshments.

Cour Damoye

Just after we turned the corner, we were stunned to see that suddenly we were standing in front of the Bataclan theatre – the place where gunmen attacked on Friday, November 13, 2015.  Translucent paper covers the inside of the Bataclan’s windows, creating a somber, gray façade on the street level.

We walked on, in silence, until we reached a pleasant brasserie called Le Metro Cafe (35 boulevard Voltaire) for our break.  During that interlude, rain began to fall.  When it stopped, we left Le Metro and made our way up the boulevard Voltaire to the grand Place de la Republique, where we took the metro home.

We climbed the metro steps to the street level at the clean, orderly Place du Commerce, in the heart of the 15^th.  Home sweet home, I thought.  How the 15^th has changed so much, for the better, in 20 years!  The Place du Commerce environs have a peaceful, vibrant buzz.

The "Lulu dans ma rue" kiosque at the Place du Commerce, open for business.

The Lulu dans ma rue kiosque was open for business on the Place du Commerce.  I wish that project great success; how wonderful, to bring neighbors who need work together with neighbors who need help.

I admired the pigeon-topped Lulu kiosque and the Place while Tom was in the Eric Kayser bakery buying a fresh, warm, traditional baguette.  A sign posted on the bakery’s window proudly announced that the place would be open on August 15, the big Feast of the Assumption holiday.  Hooray, Eric Kayser!

In the evening while cool rain fell, we dined simply at Le Café du Commerce, the big restaurant behind our building.  The service is impeccable there; it is the kind of service that Le Train Bleu should have, but doesn’t.

We have so many blessings here at home in Paris.  We are grateful and appreciative of the efforts that go into all the things and places that we love in this city.

Feasting on the sights in the 15th

The Allée des Cygnes. 

June 28, 2017 -- Translated literally, "femme de menage" means "woman of the household," but what it really means is "cleaning woman."  I prefer "housekeeper," although housekeeping extends far beyond cleaning.

Maria is the "femme de menage" for the apartment where we stay in Paris -- except for the several weeks in July and August when she returns to her native Portugal for vacation.  Monday at mid-day was her time to take over the apartment to clean it, so after we all chatted briefly, Tom and I vacated the place so that we could walk and run some errands.

The weather was gorgeous again, and Monday traffic was in full swing.  We walked to the Allée des Cygnes (Swan's Way) for a peaceful stroll on that island in the Seine, with no cars.

The island also has no water, so all of the grass was a crispy light brown.  The trees, however, were just fine.  The trees give the Allée  its grace, beauty, and shade.  Almost every one of the trees are described by a plaque placed nearby.

Dog owners like to use the Allée  as a dog park.  Many dogs there are set free, off their leashes, although that is almost surely against the law in Paris.  Owners make sure their dogs behave, so that law enforcement will not be called to police this little doggie paradise.

Memorial flowers were attached to the fence in a spot about mid-way down the Allée.  We do not know who is being remembered here, or why.

Most summers, we do not see any swans around the Allée .  But on Monday, one large, lovely swan was swimming on the left bank side.

When we’d finished a circuit on the Allée , we decided to dine at the pleasant intersection of the rues Saint Charles and Rue du Theatre.  I indulged in a big, healthy salade niçoise, and Tom had a croque monsieur.  Our entertainment was a young man at the table next to us.  He was trying to sell supplemental health insurance to a young professional woman.  He talked non-stop, in fairly good, well-enunciated French.  I took this as an opportunity to work on my French listening comprehension.  The young guy was a terrible salesman because he talked too much, and he didn’t listen to his customer – or even give her much of any opportunity to speak about what product(s) she and her business might need.  A good salesperson always takes time to learn about his/her customers and their businesses.

Tom with his croque, I with my Nicoise salad  adorned by a tiny French flag.

 They eventually departed; we then ate our lunches in peace.

After lunch, we traced our steps back to a shoe store on the rue Saint Charles.  This was no “shop”; it was a real, sizeable “store.”  I enjoyed browsing around while Tom shopped the sale.  Some items were marked down 50%!  He eventually decided on some sturdy, real leather walking shoes with lots of beautiful stitching.  These were made for a French company in India.  The craftsmanship is impressive.  The price?  A mere 27 euros!

Then it was time to pick up the sheets at the French laundry on our way back to the apartment.  The young woman running the laundry could not have been nicer. 

Next was the bakery for Tom’s daily baguette (well, almost daily), and after that, we ducked into the fromagerie just to buy some butter from Brittany.

Another walk took us down to the Parc André Citroën, in the more southerly part of the 15^th.  I decided that the best way to walk to that park is down the rest of the rue Saint Charles, turning toward the park just after passing the historic Grenelle cemetery

Looking into the Grenelle cemetery.

The open air market operates on several blocks of the rue Saint Charles on Tuesdays, so we strolled slowly through the busy shoppers, taking in the sights and smells of farm-fresh fruits and vegetables, as well as a mind-boggling array of fresh fish.

Between the cemetery and the Parc André Citroën, we stopped in the walled Caroline Aigle garden.  This calm and serene spot is named for the first female French fighter pilot who would have become an astronaut if cancer had not killed her at age 33.

In the Parc, we sat for a while, looking at the magnolia trees that have been trimmed so carefully in that utterly French way.

Magnolia trees in the Parc Andre Citroen.

Our next walk (yesterday afternoon) was in the 7^th arrondissement, up the avenue de la Motte Picquet to the rue Cler, which has a couple pedestrianized blocks that are always fun to explore.  We strolled down the rue de Grenelle and up the rue de Bourgogne to the Place du Palais Bourgogne.  Inside the Palais, the French legislature had just begun a new session.  The area was abuzz with activity.

We began our walk back to the apartment as it started to rain.  When we reached the Esplanade des Invalides, the rain intensified, so we descended to the line 8 of the metro there – as did many other people!  We managed to fit into the full subway car.  By the time we reached our stop at the Place du Commerce, the rain was lighter.

We took shelter in Le Commerce Café, where we ate hamburgers.  Tom’s was called a “Napo” burger, and mine was the “Obama” burger.  I chose the Obama burger because it has the kind of pickles that I like, and because it has that “sauce Americaine,” something that is unlike anything you’ll find in the U.S.

Now the weather is pleasantly a bit cooler than it has been, so more adventures are in store.  Stay tuned!

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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*Denominazione di Origine Protetta

Who wouldn't want to be in Paris if being home wasn't possible?

August 26, 2016 -- Ann Hildago, the mayor of Paris, got her start in politics here in the 15^th arrondissement.  She’s a liberal, and the 15^th arrondissement is generally more conservative than she is.  Nevertheless, she has proven to be a good administrator, and so she was elected to replace longtime mayor, Bertrand Delanoe, when he retired in 2014.

Shoppers in the rue de Furstemberg.

She is an immigrant, born in Andalusia, Spain, in 1959.  Now as mayor, she is determined to build two refugee camps in Paris.  She says it is not possible to “sit idly by while the Mediterranean becomes a graveyard for refugees.”  The number of refugees in France is expected to grow to 30,000 in 2017.

I have seen coverage of this new refugee camp story in British news media outlets, but I haven’t seen any in American publications so far.  So I share this with you.

Construction of the camps has started, but the exact locations have not been disclosed because the City wants to avoid violent protests.

One of the camps will be somewhere in the densely populated northeast part of the city – where many refugees are already camping.  The other camp will be south of the city – perhaps not far from the 15^th arrondissement.  One camp is for single men; the other is for women and children. These camps will have modular shelters for up to 1,000 people, and will conform to United Nations standards.  They are scheduled to open sometime in September.

Rilletes of trout with toast, a mis en bouche at Stephane Martin

Meanwhile, there is a large makeshift camp in the Jardin d’Eole, north of the Gare du Nord and Gare de l’Est train stations, on the edge of the 18^th and 19^th arrondissements.

French police have broken up makeshift camps in the capital more than two dozen times this year.  They take the campers to local shelters, but these shelters are only for short-term stays.  Soon, the refugees are back out on the streets, looking for a place to camp for the night.

Most of the refugees here in Paris are from Sudan, Eritrea, and Afghanistan.  Paris and Calais are the main destinations for migrants in France.  In Calais, they seek a way to cross the channel and enter Great Britain.

Charities and individuals in France are also being encouraged to take in refugees.  Many are doing so.

Back in the spring, Mayor Hildago angered wealthy residents of the 16^th arrondissement by announcing a plan for an “emergency accommodation center” for homeless and migrants in that arrondissement’s Bois de Boulogne (a huge park).

Also in the Spring, ten restaurants in Paris opened their kitchens to refugee chefs from Syria and other countries.  They cooked from June 17 to 21, for what was called the Refugee Food Festival.

Yesterday evening, we took shelter from the extreme heat at the Restaurant Stephane Martin – an honestly and truly air conditioned place on the rue des Entrepreneurs.  We thoroughly appreciated an elegant dinner of bass filet and eggplant for me, and veal and mushrooms for Tom.  Tom also had a lovely apple tart for dessert, and I had a rich little fondant of dark chocolate imported from Tanzania.

Bass filet with thin slices of grilled eggplant

We were surprised when we entered the place to be greeted by Steven, the server who used to run the dining room at l’Alchimie until three years ago.  We had a lively conversation with him – especially because we were the only diners in the restaurant!  The heat must be causing people to stay home.

I took my long walk in the early morning again today, to avoid the heat.  This time, my route included the avenues de Suffren and de la Bourdonnais.  Seeing the brasseries set up their rows of little round tables and chairs in the morning is fun.  I also enjoy seeing the delivery trucks supplying wonderful ingredients for the days’ meals in various eating establishments along these commercial ways.

Roasted veal and button mushooms cooked in butter

I generally take very few photographs when I’m out walking alone in the morning.  For security reasons, it is better to look like a Parisian who knows where she’s going rather than a vulnerable tourist pausing to photograph the wonderful sights.  I’m just being extra cautious; the streets of the 7^th arrondissement, where I walk in the mornings, seem to be extremely safe, as are most streets of the 15^th.  (Actually, a violent crime rate map that I recently saw indicates that the 15^th is even safer than the 7^th.)  

One commentator on TripAdvisor states that, “The violent crime rate in Paris is a fraction of the rate of any US city.”

Apple tart at the Restaurant Stephane Martin

According to this interesting U.S. State Department report, pickpocketing is the only main concern, and that is particularly around tourist attractions – and, I would add, on line 4 of the metro.  Read that State Department report if you want to know more.

Toward the end of my walk, I sat in the Place du Commerce to cool off and admire the flower beds before going home to water the flowers on the balcony.  I remembered that yesterday evening, as we walked home from Stephane Martin, we saw a sign at one end of the park, announcing a regular boules tournament there -- the Boulodrome!  

Moelleux au chocolat made with dark chocolate from Tanzania

To accommodate enthusiastic boules players, a high temporary wire fence has been constructed on either side of that far end of the park.  This is to prevent them from hitting passersby in the head with their boules.

That would be an ignominious way to go:  "Tourist killed by errant boule in Paris park."

For those of you who are not familiar with this game, according to Wikipedia,  "Boules (French pronunciation: ​[bul]) is a collective name for a wide range of games in which the objective is to throw or roll heavy balls (called boules in France, and bocce in Italy) as close as possible to a small target ball."

Even though the evening air was stifling hot, dedicated players were out in the park, throwing and rolling their boules.

Laissez les bon temps rouler . . . .