Feasting without reservation

We'd been walking.  We were hungry.  It was dinnertime.  We had no reservations.

Still, when Tom asked about dinner, I suggested that we go to Le Blavet.

The Pont de Bir Hakeim was formerly called the Viaduc de Passy.  It is on the
opposite end of the Ile aux Cygnes from the Statue of Liberty.

Two decades ago, when we first dined at this little restaurant, Madame la Patronne would have frightened us with a scalding glare if we walked into her place without a reservation.  But she retired years ago, and Le Blavet is now much more relaxed -- like the river it is named for.

Without a reservation, we thought we'd be anonymous at Le Blavet (as real restaurant critics should be), but the chef periodically came out of the kitchen, stood behind the bar doing something, and kept looking right at me, like he was trying to figure out if I was really that person from Florida who continues to blog about restaurants in the 15th arrondissement, summer after summer.

Croustillan de Chevre at Le Blavet.

We've never met him in person.  He, like some other shy chefs, stays in the kitchen almost all the time.

At Le Blavet, two fixed price menus are offered.  The food is extraordinarily consistently excellent.

I ordered from the 27-euro fixed price menu, and Tom ordered from the 36-euro menu.  Each includes a starter, main course, and dessert.  No problem -- we brought our appetites with us, and we'd just walked four miles.

Sole Meunière at Le Blavet.

I started with a croustillant de chèvre -- a thin, crispy pastry wrapped around a deliciously warm little chunk of goat cheese.  It came with an onion "confiture" that was identical to the onion "chutney" that accompanied Tom's terrine de foie gras.  Both starters were delicious, and amazingly identical to the ones we remember from previous years' dining at Le Blavet.

Tom ordered the classic sole meunière, which came with the classic accompaniment, white steamed potatoes.  Sometimes sole meunière is served in a slight pool of clarified butter, and sometimes it is not.  I'm not sure which is more "correct."  The version at Le Blavet is served without the pool of butter.  The server did not offer to de-bone it for him;  that's just as well, because we de-bone our fish ourselves (maybe they remember that we do?).

Magret de Canard at Le Blavet.

My main course was a classic magret de canard.  It was wonderful.  It was superior to the magret I'd had at another, nearby restaurant recently.  The sauce was sweet and sour, with apples, and the accompaniment was a gratin of potatoes dauphinois.

We each had crêpes, but they were of different kinds.  Mine was two folded crêpes, one with dark chocolate sauce, and the other with rum sauce.  Plus there was a dollop of whipped cream and a small scoop of French vanilla ice cream.  

Le Blavet is on the Rue de Lourmel, south of the Avenue Emile Zola.

Tom's was a flat crêpe with roasted apples and a Calvados sauce, with vanilla ice cream.  

Fortunately we'd started dinner early, at 7:30PM, because the restaurant was hot and full by the time we left.  A large group of 20 or so people occupied the larger dining room.

This morning, I persuaded Tom to go to the market at Grenelle with me.  He needed a shirt and some socks, and believe me, these markets have the best prices for those kinds of things.  We meandered through the dense crowd at about 11AM, and Tom was successful in finding and buying what he needed.

We enjoyed looking at the Oriental rugs in the market, and in the window of a closed rug store on the Boulevard.  Caution:  do not buy Persian rugs in Europe now; you cannot take them home to the U.S. because of the current sanctions against Iran.

Most shops are closed on Sundays, except for those that sell food.  The latter tend to stay open on Sunday in this neighborhood because of the Grenelle market (which is on Sundays and Wednesdays, until about 1PM).  

Walking along the Ile aux Cygnes, in the middle of the Seine.

So we went to the grocery and bakery, and came home to have a "picnic" lunch before this final stage of the Tour de France.  The Tour comes to Paris today, and I adore watching all the helicopter views of La Capitale.

Au revoir!

Paris, from the sky

July 24, 2017 -- Pictures bring words to life.  Writer’s block doesn’t happen to me.  When it threatens, I simply turn to look at the photographs that I took yesterday – or even earlier.  Then the story pops into my head.

The photograph of the façade of the Saint Sulpice church, which I took with my sister in mind (she likes that façade), reminds me that the weather was a little cool and windy.  Tom and I noticed posters promoting a sale of men’s clothes.  The posters were sandwiched around posts and small trees all around the Place Saint Sulpice.   We recognized the address as that of the former workshop for Emile Lafaurie.

The Saint Sulpice church

The cooler weather inspired clothes shopping.  Who wants to try on clothes when the weather is hot and humid?

From our September stays in an apartment on the rue du Canivet, we knew about Emile Lafaurie.  His men’s apparel business has grown, but back in those days he toiled away, designing clothes, right there in the little space on the rue du Canivet.  The back of the space has a metal verriere ceiling, with frosted glass, providing just the right light for sewing by hand.

Now the space is empty, cleverly renovated with interior walls of varnished chipboard, and opened occasionally for a sale of odd lots of Emile’s clothes and shoes for men.  Tom likes the shirts, especially.

Poster advertising the sale of Emile Lafaure clothing.

We entered the workshop, and Tom tried on clothes for a while until he decided upon a handsome, long-sleeved blue shirt with tiny little red and white anchors all over it – perfect for a former Navy officer who lives on Sanibel Island.  The shirt also looks great with Tom’s casual, dark blue jacket that he wears in cool, damp weather. 

When he paid for the shirt, he decided to wear it so he wouldn’t have to carry a bag.  He hates to carry anything when we walk in Paris.  He needed that extra layer between his t-shirt and jacket because the temperatures dropped to the 60s – which is cold for South Floridians.

We ambled around the Luxembourg Gardens for a while.  We admired the new message on the old pavers on the narrow rue Férou, a message that clearly tells drivers that pedestrians rule that little rue.  We noticed on that same street that the upper floors of the building that contains the best apartment that Hemingway ever lived in in Paris is in need of serious repairs.  The wooden shutters are falling apart, and that isn’t quaint or cute.

The rue Ferou, where pedestrians have priority.

While we were walking, Dan and the granddaughters were at the Cluny museum, taking a look at the magnificent Unicorn tapestries.  We’ve seen these tapestries multiple times, so we just rode the metro to the 6^th arrondissement with them, then went our separate ways for a couple hours.

After our walk, we stopped in the Café de la Mairie for a drink, and we called Dan, who has Tom’s phone.  Tom and Dan and the girls met a little later, and went to the Café Bergamote for refreshments.  I took the metro home so that I could watch the end stage of the Tour de France. 

That final stage is when the Tour comes into Paris.  I simply LOVE the aerial views of Paris that this last day of the Tour provides on TV.  Why do I love looking at Paris from the sky?  I do not know. 

The apartment one level up from the street at 6 rue Ferou was the best place Hemingway ever lived in Paris.

This time, the videographers were focusing on more left bank sights than usual because of the slightly different entry point the Tour took into the city – the Porte d’Orleans instead of the Porte de Versaille.

A huge new Defense Ministry complex south of here has recently been completed.  Observing it from the air made it possible to see what a complicated and lovely architectural achievement it is.  We’ve noticed the construction going on for the past couple years.  Now it is done, evidently.  Some are calling it France’s version of the Pentagon, but I think it is even more architecturally interesting than that.  Plus, it has the largest solar-panelled roof in the city.   The cost of the complex?  4.2 billion euros.

The Musée du Quai Branly and its beautiful tropical garden were featured.  The new domes of the Russian Orthodox Church shone brightly.  The magnificent Grand Palais was a centerpiece of the show;  the Tour rode right through it!  The Grand Palais has great possibilities for the 2024 Olympics, so the City was cleverly showing it off.

The magnificent fountain in the Place Saint Sulpice.

When Tom, Dan and the girls came home, the end of the Tour was still happening, so we all watched together for a while.  Then they asked me to make a reservation for dinner via lafourchette.com.  They wanted to go to the new Italian place, Pietro Commerce.

So we did.  It was impossible to entirely consume the copious servings of pasta, etc. But the food was very good.

I saw visions of plenty early in the day, too, when I took my market walk.  This is a Sunday or Wednesday morning walk when I take in the full length of the market under the tracks at the Boulevard de Grenelle, then retrace my steps, walk up the avenue de le Motte Picquet to the end of the Champ de Mars, pause to look at the Eiffel Tower looming over the Champ, walk on to the colorful pedestrian market street of rue Cler, walk its full length and turn left to go back to the Champ de Mars, cross it, and walk home. This is about 8,000 steps.

Add to that an afternoon walk and an evening walk and soon I’m at 15,000 to 20,000 steps for the day.  You’ll notice that by combining an afternoon walk with a metro ride, we are covering much territory in Paris this summer.

And the beat goes on.