Good things and good people

August 3, 2017 -- Health care costs are far lower in France than in the U.S.; we aren’t sure what the entire explanation for that may be.  Tom just had blood tests done here in Paris for 39 euros; these would have cost over $390 in the U.S.

We received the results only one day after the blood was drawn.  The blood was drawn at a laboratory that is only a few blocks from our apartment.  These labs are conveniently scattered all over Paris; we pass by them frequently on our walks.

The people working in the lab (the receptionists and the medical technologist) were all super friendly and helpful. 

Looking into Carte Blanche, and installation designed by Jacques Garcia at the Gobelins Galleries.

I won’t say that everything about the French health care system is better than we have in the U.S.  For example, I think the super-expensive medication that Tom is taking now (the one that is keeping him alive and well) is theoretically available in France, but it did not show up on the database of drugs that Tom’s doctor in Paris consulted.  Is that because the national health insurance here does not want to pay for a drug like that?  I don’t know, and I can’t find the answer on the internet.

We were very happy with Tom’s test results on Tuesday, and we celebrated by taking a pleasant walk in the 7^th arrondissement, through the neighborhoods on either side of the Champ de Mars, and up the rue Chevert to the Square Santiago du Chili, a charming little park located off the northwest corner of Les Invalides.  We sat there on a park bench for quite a while, soaking in life on a beautiful day.

Looking down at the floor of Carte Blanche.

The Tuesday afternoon walk didn’t seem like much, but it added up to over 10,000 steps.  Then we walked to Le Blavet for dinner.  By the time we returned home, I was surprised to see that we logged over 14,000 steps for the day.  All that walking seemed effortless.

Then we walked all the way home from the 13^th arrondissement yesterday, and dined at L’Alchimie which is nearby.  The total for the day was 12,000 steps, yet it seemed like we did more than that.  The moral of this story is that walking some distance to and from dinner is an easy way to increase your step count for the day.

Both dinners were delicious, but L’Alchimie still holds first place in my heart, when it comes to restaurants in Paris. 

Looking up at the ceiling of Carte Blanche.

On Tuesday, we were dining in Le Blavet on the night before it closed for vacation.  So there was only one choice for the main course:  duck breast in sweet-and-sour sauce with au gratin potatoes.  Tom had a delicious gazpacho starter course, and we both indulged in a Dame Blanche for dessert.

My starter was cocotte with foie gras.  I’ve never had cocottes before, because coddled eggs just don’t seem that appealing to me.  However, I enjoyed this dish so much at Le Blavet!  The dinner was all great, but we were one of only two tables occupied in the resto.  The other table was a couple of Americans who did not speak French.  They just stumbled on the place, I guess; they had no reservation. 

Les cocottes at Le Blavet.

As we were leaving, I congratulated them on selected a really good restaurant.  I explained that the limited menu was because the place was closing for vacation tomorrow, but that we’ve been dining there for 20 years, and the place is consistently good, and is a good value.

At L’Alchimie last night, we were given an especially warm greeting when we arrived.  That wonderful sole meuniere was still on the menu, so we both ordered it.  It was just as perfect as before – maybe the best sole meuniere I’ve ever tasted. 

For a starter, we consumed shrimp on a bed of avocado-based sauce.  It was a nice, summery dish.  We also shared a dessert: a rich, warm moelleux au chocolat.  Heavenly.

So that’s goodbye to Le Blavet and L’Alchimie for 2017!  We’ll return next summer.

The grounds at the old Gobelins tapestry factory.

The purpose of yesterday’s trip to the 13^th arrondissement was to visit the galleries of the Gobelins manufacturers and the Mobilier National.  I’d been reading about the history of both on the intenet.

The galleries had a special exhibition of chairs and sofas, called “Sièges en Société” (seats in society).  That may seem boring, but it was not.  Fine French furniture dating from 1700 to the nineteenth century is far from boring. 

In a round room off the back staircase leading to the upper gallery was a special installation called “Carte Blanche” by the designer Jacques Garcia.  It made use of mirrored walls, floor and ceiling, as well as a few tapestries, a couple well designed chairs, a fire screen, and a tree hanging upside down, decorated with colored glass ornaments, to create a dazzling and disorienting effect.  As I walked up to it, I had a sense that I might lose my balance and fall into it, as it if it were a deep and magical well.  I looked down at the mirrored floor, which was reflecting the mirrored ceiling, and it was like looking into infinity.  The same was true when I looked up at the ceiling. 

“Carte Blanche” is difficult to describe;  I hope the photos above help.

The courtyard at the Gobelins factory.

After our visit in the galleries, we watched a video about the Mobilier National’s workshops, where fine furniture is still made by hand – all to furnish government facilities like the Elysees Palace.  Then we strolled around the complex, and looked into the Gobelin’s handsome courtyard.

We began our walk home by strolling up the avenue des Gobelins to the boulevard de Port Royal.  We realized that we’ve never walked along that boulevard before.  It is lovely and shady, even though it has big hospitals on either side at the west end of it – the famous Val de Grace military hospital, and Cochin, the ancient maternity hospital.

By the time we crossed the avenue de l’Observatoire, where the boulevard de Port Royal becomes the boulevard Montparnasse, we were very hungry.  We stepped into a Vietnamese resto where we thought we could get something light. 

Gaspacho at Le Blavet.

The name of the place was Chao Sapa (150 boulevard Montparnasse).  As we were dining on two lunch specials (with a glass of wine, only 12.80 euros each!), the couple at the next table struck up a conversation with us.  Philippe and Nicole were their names.  He is a retired executive who is still on the board for Pernod Ricard.  For his work, he travelled all over the world.  She is the niece of the former president of Vietnam.  Her father and uncle (the president) were assassinated in a military coup in 1963.  She told us about a book, “The Lost Mandate of Heaven,” by Geoffrey Shaw, which tells her family’s story.  I plan to read it soon.

We talked with them for an hour.  Early on in the conversation, Philippe sought out our political persuasion.  I told him without hesitation where we stand.  He was pleased with that, and I am sure that is the reason our conversation went on for as long as it did.

Duck breast and au gratin potatoes at Le Blavet.

They both seemed not to have used their English in a while.  They were pleased to meet an English-speaking couple earlier in the day as they waited for an MRI for Philippe.  They were especially pleased to have another conversation with an English speaking couple (us) over lunch.

And so we have a couple of new friends who live in Paris.  They also have a place in Belgium (where Philippe was from originally) which they are trying to sell now, in an effort to downsize. 

Philippe and Nicole are fascinating people.  We look forward to seeing them again sometime.

Dame Blanche at Le Blavet.

Hopeful surprises and favorable hazards

Notre Dame, as seen from the Pont de l'Archeveche

July 26, 2017 – The adventure often starts with a ride on the metro.  All five of us took the line 10 to the Place Maubert.  We climbed the metro steps and emerged on the Place as the last of the vendors were packing up their wares.  Market day was over by 2PM. 

Olivia, Sarah, and Tom Cooley ride the metro.

As we walked up the rue de Bievre, Tom and I told Olivia and Sarah about the Bievre (a French word for “beaver”), which is a stream that flows into the Seine.  As “civilization” progressed in Paris, the stream became an open sewer, and eventually was covered over.  But the street name of Bievre lives on, and so does its story. 

Graffiti in the Village St. Paul

[Translation of the graffiti at left:
There aren't accidents, there are hopeful surprises of fortuitous circumstances, and the favorable hazards.]

Graffiti in the Village St. Paul

The Bievre enters the city near the border of the 13^th and 14^th arrondissements, according to Wikipedia.  But you can’t see it; it is under the street level in Paris.  You just have to believe it is there.

Once upon a time, the Bievre served the famous Gobelins tapestry factory, which is in what is now the 13^th arrondissement.  Perhaps we will visit Gobelins sometime this summer.

When we reached the end of the Bievre, we crossed the Seine on the Pont de l’Archiveche, which gave us a lovely backside view of Notre Dame.  We entered the little park which is now the entrance to a memorial monument to those deported to concentration camps during World War II.  The guardienne of the monument told us about how to enter and move through it. 

Cleverly painted shop window
 in the Village St. Paul

Trompe l'oeil painting of a door
in the Village St. Paul

Olivia and Sarah have been learning about the World Wars and the Holocaust, so they were interested in seeing the exhibit.  The guardienne had instructed us to be very quiet as we proceeded through the exhibit, and the girls were indeed quiet, attentive, and respectful.

When we exited the monument, Tom and Dan decided that we should walk up the middle of the Ile Saint Louis.  The girls were content just to walk along the colorful street; they felt no need to go into the shops.  They’re like me.

We left the island so that we could explore the St. Paul neighborhood in the 4^th arrondissement.  Wandering aimlessly through the courtyards of the Village Saint Paul and then into the Marais, I temporarily lost my sense of direction.  That rarely happens.

We stopped for refreshments at Le Sevigne (15 rue de Parc Royal).  I was excited to see that the place serves Mariage Freres tea.  I’d told Olivia and Sarah about that brand, and was pleased to see them have the opportunity to try it.  We sat under a large crystal chandelier at a plain table in a room with old stone walls.  The girls each consumed a thé gourmand while Dan and Tom had ice cream treats and Dan drank some strange red martini-like cocktail.  We all shared a plate of excellent, piping hot fries.  The Sevigne did not look like much from the street, but it was a delightful surprise. 

We carried on, walking through the Marais, including the rue de Rosiers in our path, and finally reached the Hotel de Ville (Paris City Hall).  As part of the pervasive campaign to promote Paris as the site for the 2024 Olympics, an athletic track has been set up in the big square in front of the Hotel de Ville.  It is a strange contrast with the decorative old building.

We crossed over to the Ile de la Cite where we saw plenty of souvenir shops.  Olivia wanted a black “Le Chat” t-shirt and Sarah wanted a Paris sweatshirt.  Olivia and I ventured into a shop together.  I found the right shirt for her, in the right size, and bought it.  Then Tom, Dan and Sarah entered the shop and, with lots of help from the shopkeeper, found the right sweatshirt for Sarah.  The girls also bought Eiffel Tower keychains for their friends and a beautiful, pink silk Paris scarf for their half-sister, Hannah.

Sometimes those ubiquitous sourvenir shops can be helpful.

Shops in the Village St. Paul

I led the pack through the swarming crowd in front of Notre Dame, through the Square Viviani, past the ancient church of St. Julien le Pauvre, past the odd little green medieval house that Tom and I could have bought at one point, through the Huchette, past the church of St. Severin, the Canadian bookshop on the rue de Parcheminerie, and right down to the metro at Cluny La Sorbonne.

And so ended the day’s adventure, but the evening’s fun was about to begin.

The athletic courts on the other side of the fence here in the St. Paul
neighborhood are on the site of what was once a crowded and colorful
Jewish ghetto.  The neighborhood was demolished in an ill-advised
"urban renewal" which was undoubtedly fueled by anti-Semitism.

Dan, Olivia, and Sarah deciding which way to go when exiting the Village St. Paul.

We dined near the apartment, at l’Alchimie, my favorite restaurant in Paris.  Situated in a quaint, country-looking building on the rue Letellier, the resto is run by the talented Chef Eric Rogoff and his elegant wife. 

I ordered one paté foie gras starter dish for us all to share.  The girls had not yet tried foie gras, and Eric’s foie gras was definitely the one to use to introduce them to this classic.  They both liked it, even after I told them it was goose liver!

Gargoyles on the St. Severin church.

Tom and the girls had beef tenderloin in a luscious brown pepper sauce; Dan had a turbot filet; and I had a stunning whole sole meuniere – perhaps the best I’ve ever tasted.  Madame had asked me ahead of time if I would like the chef to debone the fish, and she was not surprised at all when I said I would do it myself. 

That heavenly fish came with the absolutely correct steamed potatoes.  The others each had a dark, rich moelleux au chocolat for dessert, and I was content to watch them eat while I finished a glass of cold, crisp sauvignon blanc. 

Panorama of the Hotel de Ville (thanks to Autostitch software).

Back at home in the apartment, the five of us settled down to quietly use our devices, as we often do.  Tom checks his email on his computer, Dan checks on airline reservations using his phone, the girls use their phones to text their friends about all they saw and did in Paris today, and I read the Washington Post on my Kindle Fire – a modern day Norman Rockwell scene.

Boulevards are best when rain threatens

June 30, 2017 – One way to plan a day of walking in Paris when rain showers are predicted is to find a route in which you stay on the boulevards.  On the boulevard, there is always someplace to find shelter from the storm.

Shelter could be a bus stop, an awning, a doorway, a shop, a larger store, a brasserie.  The boulevards have it all.  Some broad avenues do, too.

Unpredictable rainshowers dominated the weather forecast yesterday, so we decided to walk along the grandest boulevard of all, the boulevard Saint Germain.  (I don’t think the Champs Elysées is the greatest for walking in the rain, especially because half of it is park with not much shelter because trees don’t count.   And the non-park, more commercial section of the Champs Elysées is very commercial, slightly tacky, and too full of tourists, in my opinion.)

Delacroix's  mural of Jacob wrestling with the angel (in the Saint Sulpice church).

To reach the boulevard Saint Germain, we walked along the broad avenue de la Motte Picquet, across the Esplanade des Invalides (fortunately there was no rain while we crossed that open expanse), and along the rue de l’Université to the point where it intersects with the boulevard Saint Germain. 

The window shopping is fantastic along that boulevard.  We gaped and gazed at ultra-chic furniture, fashion, jewelry, and books – yes, books.  The big Sonia Rykiel boutique has floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on every wall.  The shelves are full of books – not just decorative books.  Paperbacks were everywhere.  The fashions were displayed in the middle of each high-ceilinged space.  The effect was marvelous. 

When we reached the neighborhood of Saint Sulpice, where we have often stayed in past Septembers, we simply had to walk down through the rue des Canettes to the Place Saint Sulpice so that we could visit the church.  The Place was full of little white tents sheltering people who were selling ugly ceramics.  I’ve seen this festival before, and each time I see it, I think all the wares are ugly.  The criteria for that show must include ugliness (of the ceramics, not the people).

Heliodorus being driven from the temple -- a mural by Delacroix in the Saint Sulpice church.

I could not get a good photograph of the front of the magnificent church because of that ceramics show/festival, but I did manage to photograph the restored Delacroix paintings just inside the church, in the Chapel of the Holy Angels.  The Delacroix restoration project concluded in November of last year.  We did make a small donation to the project fund last summer.  For us, it was satisfying to see the completed work.  We like Delacroix paintings for their drama and emotion.  Charles Baudelaire described Delacroix as the most remarkable painter of his time.

On the ceiling of Saint Sulpice's Chapel of the Holy Angels is a painting on canvas,
depicting Saint Michael.

The restoration of these three Delacroix works was overseen by the French government because Saint Sulpice is a historic monument.  Ten restorers worked on the project.  The cleaning protocol that they used was developed by Professor Richard Wolbers from the University of Delaware, in the U.S.A.

An organist was practicing on the grand Cavaille-Coll organ.  That music made it difficult to leave, so we stayed a while.  For me, the church of Saint Sulpice has a spiritual effect.  When we did leave, I felt calm and somewhat renewed.

The magnificent Cavaille-Coll organ in Saint Sulpice.

We decided to visit our friends the Bs (name withheld for privacy) because we have been worried about them.  We’d not heard from them in a while.  Their place was nearby, so we went around the corner.  Miraculously, somehow I still had the door code for the building.  We entered the courtyard, climbed the steps to their apartments, and rang the doorbell on the larger apartment.  There was no answer, so I was in the process of leaving one of my cards when a woman climbed the stairs and greeted us in English. 

We explained that we were there to see the Bs, and that I was leaving my card.  We exchanged names and she said, “Oh, yes, you’re the people from Florida.  I’ve heard so much about you.”  Then she, Sandra, told us that E B had suffered a terrible fall in May, while getting off a city bus.  She did not think the Bs were home, but soon the door to the smaller apartment opened onto the landing.  There were the Bs.  She was wrapped in a back brace.

Sandra excused herself and went into the bigger apartment while we chatted with the Bs, whose son and family will soon be visiting and would be able to help R B take care of E B.  Still, I offered to do anything I could to help them during the two months that we are here.  I hope they take me up on the offer.  We love the Bs, and we told them so.

The interior of the Saint Sulpice churrch.

We did not want to stay long because we knew they were tired, so we said our good-byes, and Tom and I walked over to the Café de la Mairie to have a bite to eat.  When we were fortified, we went back up the boulevard and continued our hike to the Place Maubert, where we were able to catch the line 10 of the metro which swept us quickly back to our neighborhood. 

By the time rush hour started, we were at home, resting.  Then the rain came.  By evening, the weather was cool, clear, and delightful again.

We dined at my favorite restaurant in Paris, l’Alchimie.  Chef Eric Rogoff gets even better every year.  The restaurant is clearly prospering.  We shared a wonderful, layered slice of paté foie gras to begin the meal.  Then I had a delicate, twirled filet of sea bass stuffed with a freshly made tapenade, sitting atop a bed of creamy polenta.  Heavenly.  

Pate foie gras at l'Alchimie

"Tournedos": of sea bass stuffed with olive tapenade, on
a bed of creamy polenta.

Tom had a manly, thick veal chop – a t-bone, really.  It had a seared, buttery crust, was juicy inside, and was in a pepper sauce that was thick and flavorful.  Tom only ate half of the broccoli flan that was served with the veal chop.  The server, Madame Rogoff, teased him about not eating all of his vegetables.  For dessert, he consumed a strawberry tart as well as “my” dessert, three scoops of sherbet. 

I’m so pleased that Tom has his appetite back.  When he was ill for months, he lost a lot of weight and his appetite was zilch.  But he’s back – the Energizer bunny, with his drum, is back.  I’m thankful beyond belief.

Tom's veal chop at l'Alchimie.

 

Madame Rogoff's exquisite printing of the menu at l'Alchimie.

Tom's desserts: a strawberry tart, and raspberry,
fig, and pina colalda.

Hot and flawless

August 24, 2016 -- This summer, there are once again many parts of the street that are dug up and fenced off – work zones that we pedestrians have to weave around.  Tom chalked it up to flood damage to the electrical network this past spring and early summer.  But I’ve been wondering about that, because the signs on these work zones refer to projects for upgrading the reseau de chauffage – which means “heating network.”

The Eiffel Tower in the early morning light.

Today, I used the computer to figure it out.  These projects are for the upgrading of an urban heating network, run by the Compagnie Parisienne de Chauffage Urbain (CPCU).  This utility provides heating and sanitary hot water for the equivalent of 500,000 housing units in Paris and surrounding communities.

The heat is generated by a mix of recycled domestic waste; natural gas, coal, and oil; and, coming soon, geothermal heat and biomass.  I believe that the “mix of recycled domestic waste” means a trash burning power plant.  I know there is such a facility on the east side of Paris.

Some of the heat production facilities have been and are being converted from oil-burning to natural gas-burning.

CPCU is a big deal in the 15^th arrondissement because there are two heat production facilities here.  At the Grenelle facility are five boilers, three of which run on natural gas.  The other two are oil-burning, but can be run on biodiesel.  The Vaugirard facility has three natural gas-burning boilers.

In total, the CPCU has eight production sites.

This idea of central heating distributed by a network is not new.  I remember the old central boiler and system of hot water heating pipes that served many of the older buildings with radiators on the campus of the Ohio State University.

Roasted bass filet with Duxelle de Champignons and creme de bacon sauce.

The CPCU in Paris as well has been around since 1927.  Since then, it has never ceased modernizing and expanding.

Its production facilities must have burned coal at first, but in 1941, the first trash burning power plant went online.

In 2009, when the T3 tramway was being constructed, the CPCU took the opportunity to expand is network under the long expanse of those tracks, and for the first time, it dismantled one of its older production facilities at La Villette, giving the land back to the city.  Now, in that northeast corner of the city, CPCU has a geothermal heat production facility (on the Quai de la Gironde, Boulevard MacDonald, in the 19^th arrondissement).

Of course the CPCU can only serve buildings that have a central hot water heating system.  Many apartment buildings, like the one where we stay, have individual hot water heaters in each apartment.  Ours is over the sink in the kitchen; it burns natural gas, and it heats the water on demand for the bathroom fixtures and kitchen sink, as well as for the radiators in each room.  Its pilot light burns all the time.

Lamb shank in honey-thyme sauce with semolina at L'Alchimie

We certainly do not have the radiators turned on now, however.  Yesterday, the temperature hit 90F, and today it will be in the mid-90s.  No we do not have air conditioning.  We open the apartment at night, then shut it up during the day to keep the cooler air.  That only works for a few days, until the entire building heats up.  We’re now in day 2 of a five-day heat wave.

Last night, we dined on rue Letellier at L'Alchimie, which is not air conditioned.  Still, at that time of the evening, temperatures were only in the upper 80s and it wasn’t too humid.  This morning, when I walked from 7 to 8:30, I could tell that the humidity is up.  It is around 65%, which is still far better than Sanibel’s typical 90%.  So we’re doing okay.

After we were seated at the table in the front window, the place began to fill up with regulars, all from the neighborhood, it seemed.  (I was surprised when the French people at the table next to us did not know the difference between leg of lamb and lamb shank!)

Dinner was flawless.  It began with a shared starter of foie gras, accompanied by piping hot, scrumptious rolls.

Foie gras with rye toast, but we used the hot rolls instead.

Tom had a souris d’agneau (lamb shank) with semolina and a honey-based sauce.  It was stunningly good.

My main course was a roasted bass filet on a bed of finely diced mushrooms cooked in butter (Duxelle de champignons), served in a pool of crème de bacon sauce.  It was heavenly.

We shared a fig-and-almond-cream tart for dessert.  The pastry was light and flaky, and the figs were soft and sweet.  So was the scoop of white chocolate ice cream.

The value was incredibly good.  Each two course dinner was just 27 euros (including tax and tip).  (Three courses would have been just 31 euros.)

Fig and almond cream tart with white chocolate ice cream

L’Alchimie remains my favorite restaurant in Paris.  Hats off to Chef Eric Rogoff!

Hot and flawless

August 24, 2016 -- This summer, there are once again many parts of the street that are dug up and fenced off – work zones that we pedestrians have to weave around.  Tom chalked it up to flood damage to the electrical network this past spring and early summer.  But I’ve been wondering about that, because the signs on these work zones refer to projects for upgrading the reseau de chauffage – which means “heating network.”

The Eiffel Tower in the early morning light.

Today, I used the computer to figure it out.  These projects are for the upgrading of an urban heating network, run by the Compagnie Parisienne de Chauffage Urbain (CPCU).  This utility provides heating and sanitary hot water for the equivalent of 500,000 housing units in Paris and surrounding communities.

The heat is generated by a mix of recycled domestic waste; natural gas, coal, and oil; and, coming soon, geothermal heat and biomass.  I believe that the “mix of recycled domestic waste” means a trash burning power plant.  I know there is such a facility on the east side of Paris.

Some of the heat production facilities have been and are being converted from oil-burning to natural gas-burning.

CPCU is a big deal in the 15^th arrondissement because there are two heat production facilities here.  At the Grenelle facility are five boilers, three of which run on natural gas.  The other two are oil-burning, but can be run on biodiesel.  The Vaugirard facility has three natural gas-burning boilers.

In total, the CPCU has eight production sites.

This idea of central heating distributed by a network is not new.  I remember the old central boiler and system of hot water heating pipes that served many of the older buildings with radiators on the campus of the Ohio State University.

Roasted bass filet with Duxelle de Champignons and creme de bacon sauce.

The CPCU in Paris as well has been around since 1927.  Since then, it has never ceased modernizing and expanding.

Its production facilities must have burned coal at first, but in 1941, the first trash burning power plant went online.

In 2009, when the T3 tramway was being constructed, the CPCU took the opportunity to expand is network under the long expanse of those tracks, and for the first time, it dismantled one of its older production facilities at La Villette, giving the land back to the city.  Now, in that northeast corner of the city, CPCU has a geothermal heat production facility (on the Quai de la Gironde, Boulevard MacDonald, in the 19^th arrondissement).

Of course the CPCU can only serve buildings that have a central hot water heating system.  Many apartment buildings, like the one where we stay, have individual hot water heaters in each apartment.  Ours is over the sink in the kitchen; it burns natural gas, and it heats the water on demand for the bathroom fixtures and kitchen sink, as well as for the radiators in each room.  Its pilot light burns all the time.

Lamb shank in honey-thyme sauce with semolina at L'Alchimie

We certainly do not have the radiators turned on now, however.  Yesterday, the temperature hit 90F, and today it will be in the mid-90s.  No we do not have air conditioning.  We open the apartment at night, then shut it up during the day to keep the cooler air.  That only works for a few days, until the entire building heats up.  We’re now in day 2 of a five-day heat wave.

Last night, we dined on rue Letellier at L'Alchimie, which is not air conditioned.  Still, at that time of the evening, temperatures were only in the upper 80s and it wasn’t too humid.  This morning, when I walked from 7 to 8:30, I could tell that the humidity is up.  It is around 65%, which is still far better than Sanibel’s typical 90%.  So we’re doing okay.

After we were seated at the table in the front window, the place began to fill up with regulars, all from the neighborhood, it seemed.  (I was surprised when the French people at the table next to us did not know the difference between leg of lamb and lamb shank!)

Dinner was flawless.  It began with a shared starter of foie gras, accompanied by piping hot, scrumptious rolls.

Foie gras with rye toast, but we used the hot rolls instead.

Tom had a souris d’agneau (lamb shank) with semolina and a honey-based sauce.  It was stunningly good.

My main course was a roasted bass filet on a bed of finely diced mushrooms cooked in butter (Duxelle de champignons), served in a pool of crème de bacon sauce.  It was heavenly.

We shared a fig-and-almond-cream tart for dessert.  The pastry was light and flaky, and the figs were soft and sweet.  So was the scoop of white chocolate ice cream.

The value was incredibly good.  Each two course dinner was just 27 euros (including tax and tip).  (Three courses would have been just 31 euros.)

Fig and almond cream tart with white chocolate ice cream

L’Alchimie remains my favorite restaurant in Paris.  Hats off to Chef Eric Rogoff!

Just say "NON" to Gaspillage

September 6, 2015 -- “Gaspillage” --  To an Anglophone, it’s a word that sounds like some form of severe indigestion.  In reality, it is the French word for “waste,” and it is particularly being used these days to discuss the problem of food waste.  Two kinds of food waste concern restaurants and their customers.

Some of the eclectic decor at l'Alchimie.

First, there are the products that have not been served and must be thrown out, as required by regulations, from the kitchen.

Second, there is the food left on the plate.  That’s today’s topic.

In 2009, a “gastronomie collective” called Mille et un Repas (A Thousand and One Meals) began its “Zero Gaspil” campaign.  This affected mainly school cafeterias, as far as I’ve been able to discern.  First, the cafeterias eliminated the classic cafeteria lines, and replaced them with “islands” like the salad bars we’re familiar with – except that some islands have hot food, and some have cold food like salads, gazpacho, fruit, breads and pastries.

Then the kids were taught to take only what they were pretty sure they’d eat.  The kids even clear their own plates and stack them in the trays that go into the dishwashers!  These simple steps reduced the average food waste from 167 grams per plate to 10 grams per plate!

For other kinds of food operations, some working groups were formed in 2013 to develop a “covenant” against food waste.  The main objective of the covenant is to halve the amount of food waste in France by 2025.

Following the success of Mille et un Repas and the forming of the covenant, commercial restaurants are now just beginning to embrace the idea of reducing food waste with the support of the UMIH Restauration – the main association of restaurateurs in France.  UMIH stands for Union des Métiers et des Industries de l’Hôtellerie, but I think it is more of a professional association than what we think of as a "union," as in "labor union."  The organization is for people who run restaurants, hotels, night clubs, and cafes.

In July, UMIH announced that it is engaging in a campaign to promote the use of doggy bags to address the problem of food waste.  Not having a word for such an item, the French are using the English "doggy bag." We’ll see how effective the UMIH effort is.  I’m a little dubious, because so far it seems that UMIH’s main activity has been to sign a contract with a company called TakeAway, which then sells expensive boxes and bags to the restaurants, for use in packing up customers’ leftovers.

While hundreds of restaurants throughout France have signed up to be TakeAway clients, only one restaurant in Paris has done so, according to the TakeAway web site.  I think it would be better to have an all-out publicity campaign to promote doggy bags nationally.

A friend of mine was under the impression that it is illegal for restaurants to give doggy bags in France.  My research indicates that it is illegal, perhaps, for restaurants to give away leftover food from the kitchen.  But according to UMIH, the restaurant’s responsibility for the food ends from the time the meal is delivered to the customer’s table.  From that point on, the restaurant is not responsible for the conditions in which the meal is stored and consumed.

So, our use of our ZipLoc bags is perfectly legitimate, even if it may be unconventional.  But it would be better if the restaurant would provide containers.  These don’t have to be the expensive, fancy ones that TakeAway sells.  The kind used by the ubiquitous Chinese takeouts (and by the Stephane Martin restaurant) – a recyclable plastic dish sealed with cellophane film on top – is ideal.  The newer paperboard boxes used by some American restaurants are also fine.  But polystyrene (“Styrofoam”) is to be avoided, for environmental reasons (petroleum product, difficult to recycle, bad for landfills).

The need to reduce food waste is obviously an environmental concern.  But there is also a socioeconomic angle here.  Food is becoming scarcer, and so food prices have risen just about everywhere.  Now there is a flood of refugees entering Europe.  As one Syrian refugee recently said in Hungary, “We don’t want to stay in Hungary.  It is a poor country.  They cannot even afford to give us any food.”  (Related:  See my entries for July 25 and 26, with photos of Syria and information about the Maison des Journalistes and exiled photojournalist Muzaffar Salman, a Syrian refugee in Paris.)

The refugees are rightfully interested in going to the places where there is more hope of someday finding a job.  They want to go to countries like Germany, Britain, and France.   How will these countries be able to feed them all?  Eliminating or greatly reducing food waste in these wealthier places is a good place to start.

Rib steak with emulsion savora, servd with hash browned potatoes.

We did our part to reduce food waste last night at l’Alchimie, on the rue Letellier.  

Our starter course, which we shared, was a delicious slice of foie gras with a layer of fig confiture in the middle, and a layer of wine jelly on the top edge. There was no waste there; not one bit.

Tom had a rib steak .  It was topped with a bright yellow “emulsion savora.”

According to SimplyGourmand.com, “The recipe of Savora dates back to 1899. The French are partial to this unique condiment, made of mustard seeds, cinnamon, Cayenne pepper, nutmeg, curcuma, cloves, celery, garlic, tarragon, vinegar and a touch of honey.”  So it is basically a spicy honey mustard.

Bar aux poivrons, ecrasee de charlotte a tapenade.

Tom ate most of the steak and all of the emulsion savora.  The leftover steak he put into the ZipLoc bag, which will serve him well for lunch today.  Likewise, my bass was large enough that I put some of it, along with the olive-potato mix, into the bag.  That’s my lunch.

For dessert, we shared a moelleaux au chocolat, and I swear that Chef Eric upgraded the type of chocolate since the last time we had this dish.  It was wonderfully deep and rich – as rich as the moelleaux at Stephane Martin’s – but less expensive.

Chef Eric was still doing all the serving himself.  We wonder who he has working in the kitchen whom he trusts so well.  A man who looked like he was from Pakistan or Bangladesh had entered the restaurant ahead of us, and he went directly back to the kitchen.  Could it be him?  Whoever is back there, stays there.  We will have to ask Eric about it next time we dine at l’Alchimie.  We’d love to meet the alchemist’s apprentice!

Moelleux au chocolat.

And there will certainly be a next time, and a time after that, etc.  Right now, l’Alchimie is still my favorite restaurant in Paris.