The mundane is so important

My default dinner is fish and vegetables.  This one, from last night's dinner at
L'Épopée on avenue Emile Zola, was a golden bream filet with slow-roasted,
diced veggies in eggplant shells.  It was delicious.

August 22, 2017 – There was too much excitement at home yesterday; we didn’t go out until dinnertime. 

Scaffolding had been delivered earlier in the day – two truckloads of it.  Then a crew arrived and began erecting it on the façade of our building.  So begins the process of ravalement -- the cleaning and repairing of the façade of a 7-story post-Haussmannian building in Paris.

I know that Paris has a law requiring the cleaning of building façades periodically.  Our friend Jim, who lives in Paris and Sanibel, tells us that the requirement is for the work to be done every ten years (articles L132-1 à L132-5 du code de la construction et de l'habitation – CCH).

Looking down at the scaffolding stacked in the street, going up on the sidewalk.

However, we’ve been coming to Paris and staying in this building for 20 years, and in that time, this façade cleaning and repair work has not been done.  I suspect the same is true for many Parisian apartment buildings – they’re overdo for a redo.

The building façade is stone – a rather soft stone, perhaps a sandstone.  Balconies are limestone, with lots of interesting fossils.  The stone decorations on the cornices and elsewhere seem to be soft because they erode so much with the weather – at least, on our building they have eroded.

Mortar joints between blocks of stone are very narrow.  Joints between sections of limestone on the balconies seem to be wider, and they hold iron bars that fasten the balcony railing to the building.  Some of that iron is completely exposed and rusting on our balcony. 

We know all too well how critically important it is for building façades to be maintained.  A friend of mine (attorney and former OSU football player Ben Espy) lost his leg when a cornice fell from a building in downtown Columbus.  The building’s façade had been neglected.

We’re all for this work that is about to be done, but I was concerned about the dreariness of living in a dark apartment for a week, and not being able to open the front windows. 

Now that I see how long it takes to erect one level of scaffolding, I realize that by the time they have the basic scaffolding up to our level, we will be leaving. 

After the basic scaffolding is up, a fabric (fiberglass?) skin it put on it to help protect pedestrians and cars from falling bits and pieces.

Yesterday, two truckloads of materials were delivered, and from that, one level of scaffolding was erected.  We’ll see how it goes.  We are on what is called the 5^th floor here, which is what we’d call the 6^th floor in the U.S.  In France, the first floor is 0, or “street-level.”  There is one level above us, where the former maids’ rooms are located.  A few of these have been cobbled together into apartments, but some are still just single rooms.  We have access to one of those, a room with a lovely view of the Eiffel Tower.

Before we ever arrived this summer, the owners of the apartment had someone move almost all of the balcony’s many plants down to the courtyard behind the building.  There, hopefully, the guardienne’s husband has kept them watered. 

But a few plants, a couple chairs, watering cans, a garden hose, and a VERY heavy marble-topped table remained on the balcony.  We had to move those inside the apartment yesterday.  I insisted on cleaning the apartment before introducing this chaos.  (The cleaning lady is on vacation in Portugal.)

So we were busy with cleaning and moving furniture for most of the day.  A few things went up to the maid’s room, but most of the stuff is scattered about the dining room, in as orderly a fashion as is possible in an already overly furnished apartment.

I figured out that I’m the only person who ever changes the vacuum cleaner bag here.  In 2014, I bought a box of five super-nice vacuum cleaner bags and used one.  Each year, we come here and find the bag absolutely full, so I take it out and put a new bag in the machine.  I just put the fourth of those five bags in.  One bag remains in the box.  Ergo, I am the only person who changes the vacuum cleaner bag, and it is changed only once per year.

The poor vacuum cleaner has been abused.  A couple years ago, I had to buy a new part for it when we arrived at the beginning of the summer.  I swear, next summer I’m buying a new vacuum cleaner for the place.  More than twenty years is long enough to expect a poor, abused vacuum cleaner to work, even if it is a Hoover.

At L'Épopée, Tom's steak came with an adorable red pot of mashed potatoes.

One year we bought a new toaster for the apartment.  Another year, we purchased a new microwave to replace one that died.  We also replaced a coffeemaker in the not-too-distant past.  So you see why we felt the need to check out the new appliance store, Boulanger, earlier this summer.  We are serial appliance buyers.

We aren’t tourists.  We really live here in the summer.  We’re keenly aware of the hardware stores, electricians, plumbers, and appliance stores in the neighborhood.  That’s life.

To Saint Sulpice and back again

August 10, 2016 -- One of the places that makes Paris home-away-from-home for me is located not so close to this apartment in the 15th arrondissement, where we stay.  Instead, it is way over in the heart of the 6th arrondissement:  the grand church of Saint Sulpice.

I'm not sure why I feel so at home in that particular church.  It is more somber than many of the other Catholic churches in this city; perhaps, as a Protestant, that somber quality appeals to me. 

Lion in the Place Saint Sulpice

Saint Sulpice is a great, hulking church.  Its length is only 20 meters shorter than that of Notre Dame, over on the Ile de la Cité.  But it is heavier in its decoration – or, rather, lack thereof, than Notre Dame.

Tom decided that he wanted us to walk over to the 6^th arrondissement yesterday.  I said, “Great, you lead the way.”  He likes to walk a route that is not the most direct, but does go around UNESCO. 

The walk was almost the same as always.  One change:  the guard stationed outside the park called the Jardin Catherine Labouré is now carrying an automatic rifle.  Farther down the rue de Sevres, we saw three tall soldiers come around a corner, each carrying a large automatic rifle and wearing combat fatigues.

Thinking of my sister as I photographed Saint Sulpice.
She likes this church, too.

Tom wanted to visit the square in front of Saint Sulpice.  We did that, and then I wanted to go in the church.  Inside, we examined the displays set up for the Jubilee of the Misericorde:  fairly philosophical, theological stuff, and all in French – but interesting.

Tom wanted to see the Delacroix paintings at the church, but they are walled off for a restoration project.  That’s good; those paintings needed some serious restoration.  I noticed that the expository sign for the Delacroix restoration area promoted the idea of making private donations toward the project.  Since we’ve enjoyed those paintings so much for so many years, I photographed the web site name on the sign, and this morning we made a donation – something I’ve never done in French before. (Sometimes I use the camera to "take notes.")

The brasserie called Le Pre aux Clercs beckoned to us, so we had refreshments there.  

Then we walked along the rue Jacob after our visit to the church.  Tom just loves that street.  I do, too, but I wish the sidewalks were wider.  There is so much to stop and look at in the shop windows, but little space for pedestrians to maneuver around the window shoppers.

Tom pauses on a bench as we walk over to the 6th arrondissement.
The bench he sits on is labeled "le banc de Marcel."
The other bench is labeled "l'autre banc de Marcel."  Very funny.

Up toward the Seine we went, through the little archway at the Institute de France, and voila!  There was the lovely river with a view of the Louvre and the Institute.  At the rue Guénégaud we turned back toward the heart of the 6^th.  In this area are many art galleries.  At this time of year, gallery owners tend to feature their African art.  So on a day like this, a number of men from Africa roam the streets of the 6^th, scoping out pedestrians who look like they might be African art collectors.  Obviously, these men have something to sell.

Tom was looking prosperous in his navy blue blazer, and so many of these men stopped him to ask if he was interested in African art.  He smiled and said, “Merci, non” to each of them.

I wouldn’t say we aren’t interested, but we just aren’t interested in acquiring stuff now.

The views inside Le Pre aux Clercs are confusing because of all the mirrors.
So you can see me taking the photo.  (Merry wanted pictures with Tom
and me in them, but I don't know why.)

We crossed the grand boulevard Saint Germain and found the Mabillon entrance to the line 10 Metro.  The time was 4:30PM – prime rush hour.  We’ve been on that train before at rush hour, and it has always been fairly full then.  But not yesterday.  The cars had plenty of empty seats.  It looked more like a Sunday morning, rather than a weekday rush hour.

After buying ten metro tickets (14.70 euros) as we exited the Émile Zola station, I decided to stop in my favorite Nicolas wine shop for the first time this summer.  As I entered, I immediately noticed that the shop had been renovated and had a new layout.  Nevertheless, I found three of my favorites within a minute.  The new shopkeeper, a young man, was as nice as could be.

In the evening, we strolled down the Avenue Émile Zola again, this time to dine at L’Épopée.  There we were given a mis-en-bouche of bright pink beet soup.  Then we shared a starter course of shrimp in thin pastry tubes, served with a delicate little salad and homemade rouille sauce.  Both of us ordered the barbequed pork ribs, which were fine.  They came with a mixture of vegetables that was excellent.

Cold beet soup mis en bouche.

I often think of our former cat, General Burnside, at dinnertime.  He had the most polite way of begging at the table.  He’d stand up on his back legs, prop himself against your dining chair with one of this front legs, and with the soft paw on his other front leg, he’d gently tap you on your leg, and he’d emit a soft little meow, as if to say, “um, excuse me, I am a cat here, I need some of your food please, just a little please, if you could be so kind.”

Years ago, we used to see feral cats darting about here or there as we wandered home after dinner in Paris.  However, through a campaign of sterilization, I think, the city of Paris has managed to just about eliminate feral cats from the cityscape.

But the other day, we saw one dart right in front of us, and disappear into the lush vegetation of the garden at the Musée du Quai Branly – Jacques Chirac.  Upon reflection, I think that this is a most appropriate place for a wild cat – a lion in the jungle, a panther in the swamp – a cat that magically appears, and disappears, in the mist.

When Autumn leaves start to fall

September 25, 2015 -- Chefs can be shy.  The softspoken “server” on Wednesday evening at L’Epopée gave me cause for concern; he was so reserved that he was barely projecting well enough to communicate with his guests.  I worried about his chance of succeeding as a server.

At the end of the evening, when I was telling him what was so good about the sauces in this dinner, he beamed and said, “I am the chef.  I have come up tonight to see how this part of the house is working.”

Looking down at the charcuterie and dessert bar at Le Café du Commerce

So the young man whom I had seen appearing out of the kitchen at L’Epopée must be the sous chef, and he must be good enough that the chef was comfortable with leaving the kitchen mostly to him on Wednesday evening.  I’m sure that by then, many of the preparations had already been made.

The starter course that we shared was made in one of those earthenware escargot baking dishes with a dozen round concave indentations.  Instead of escargot, a small shrimp was in each indentation, and the entire dish was covered with a rich, creamy, velvety tomato sauce that had just the right amount of seasonings, tasting mildly Spanish.  The shrimp were tender and juicy; not the least bit overcooked (photo below).

We each had roasted duck breast and polenta, served in a small puddle of fruity sauce.  Comfort food doesn’t get any more comforting than this.

We shared a dessert of profiteroles with that rich, dark chocolate sauce.  Then it was time to say goodbye to L’Epopée for this season.  This was where we began our summer dining in Paris this year; we’ll miss it.

Last night, we dined at another longtime favorite, Le Café du Commerce.  We each ordered a starter and main course, and thought we’d skip the dessert.  Tom had six good escargots, and I had the delicious terrine lapereau (young rabbit – aka bunny – terrine) topped with a confiture of prune.

Roasted duck breast and polenta at L'Epopée

Tom’s main course was a huge ravioli filled with duck confit and a little orange sauce.  He said the concoction was like a big shredded duck turnover – juicy, meaty, and really good.  Mine was skate (aile de raie) served with capers and butter.  I asked for puréed potatoes instead of steamed potatoes.  “No problem,” said the server.  This wing of skate was the largest I’ve seen yet.

I just do not understand why skate is so rarely served in south Florida.  It should be on the menu all the time, because it is prevalent in the Gulf waters.  Do Americans not understand how good skate is?

We didn’t skip dessert after all; instead, we shared a classic and good crème brûlée.

Large duck ravioli at Le Café du Commerce

When it was time to go, each server and host that we passed said thanks and good evening.  When we exited, the streets were cool and wet; we just missed a rain shower.

Earlier in the day, we had a good long walk on the Allée des Cygnes and in the neighborhood around us.  The Allée’s trees were looking autumnal; the line at the Eric Kayser bakery was almost long; the neighborhood is hopping with activity on the streets.

We’ve been enjoying the fall weather, but now we’re ready for Florida again.  Time to start packing!  Work is being done on our house, and we’re anxious to see it.  (Thank you for the permit, Sanibel.) We’re so fortunate to have our good friend Matty overseeing the place right now.

Thoughts are turning toward home, and you will soon be able to follow my musings in my Sanibel Journal again.

Aile de raie at Le Café du Commerce.

Seizieme et Quinzieme -- so nice

September 10, 2015 -- We were strolling along the avenue Mozart in the 16^th arrondissement, when I noticed that we were at the intersection with the rue Serge Prokofiev.  Mozart eclipsed Prokofiev in breadth and grandeur.  Prokofiev was even overshadowed by the prefect Claude Erignac, who had a plaza named after him in this spot that is also home to the gendarmerie (police station) for the arrondissement.

Place du Prefet Claude Erignac

The Place du Préfet Claude Erignac is a gracious yet modest Art Deco space.  Shade trees protect it from the sun, and its setback from the avenue gives it relative calm.  With the police station right there, and its location in the middle of the chic 16^th, it is a place where you might feel safe and relaxed enough to take an afternoon siesta on a bench.  One gentleman was doing just that.

I’d mentally mapped out an hour and forty minute walk for us – up to and across the Pont Mirabeau, uphill on the rues Rémusat and George Sand, right along the avenue Mozart, and back downhill on the rues de l’Assomption and Boullainvilliers to the Pont de Grenelle.  Most of this territory we’d seen before, but we’d not been over there this summer.  And some of the streets we’ve not yet explored.

There aren’t so many major attractions in the 16^th, and that’s the way this arrondissement’s residents like it.  Calm.

So who was this prefect, Claude Erignac, whose name is important enough to have a Place that overshadows Prokofiev’s street?  I consulted Wikipedia.

He was not a prefect in the mainland of France; he was prefect on the island of Corsica.  He was not from Corsica originally, but rather from Lozere, in the south of France.  He went to Corsica to take the job of prefect of the southern part of the island in 1996.  On February 6, 1998, he was assassinated.  His murderer – a Corsican nationalist -- was found guilty three times and then sentenced to life in prison.

In the summer of that year of 1998, Tom and I were given the task of chaperoning a study abroad session for some Ohio State University students in Bath, England.  The program was only six weeks long; so when it ended, we still had a month and a half before Tom had to be back on duty, teaching, in Ohio.  Why leave Europe?  We just decided, “Let’s go to France!”  

Fortunately, this apartment in Paris, which we’d just heard about in mid-February 1998 while canoeing on the Sanibel River, became magically and immediately available to us that August.

That’s how we started summering in Paris.  This is our 18^th summer here.

As we turned down the rue de l’Assomption, I thought perhaps we’d never walked on that street before.  But then I saw an unusual red brick building with white gingerbread trim, and I remembered it from one of our first summers – from one of our first walks up into the 16^th.

Sister Marie Eugenie de Jesus is a founder of the Religious Order
of the Assumption, headquartered on the rue de l'Assomption.

The rue de l’Assomption seems to be home to a number of substantial properties owned by the Roman Catholic Church.  One is named for the nun who started the religious order of the Assumption.  Her image is emblazoned on a couple of the buildings.  Such an icon. 

When the rue de l’Assomption ended, we crossed the Place du Dr. Hayem and began our way down the rue de Boulainvilliers.  We passed by the huge, round Radio France building, which is still undergoing some renovation, and by the amusingly named Café de l’Ogre.  An “ogre” is probably what some people called the Radio France building when it was first built.

We admired the Statue of Liberty again, this time from the right bank foot of the Pont de Grenelle.  I realize now that Liberty is facing west and south – she is facing in the direction of her big sister Statue of Liberty in New York.  (Paris is far north of New York City, and obviously very far east of it.)

We finished our walk with the very familiar rue Linois and avenue Emile Zola.  In the evening, we were out again on the avenue Emile Zola, making our way to dinner at l’Épopée.

That’s where Tom especially wanted to go.  

I know that my favorite restaurant this year is l’Alchimie.  I asked Tom what his favorite for this year would be.  It took him a while to decide, but then he said, “Le Pario.”  Le Pario has exceptionally inventive and delicious food, and the service is ultra-professional.  The décor is elegant, and it is a true haven with real air conditioning on a hot summer evening.  I can see why he selects it.

But we both are very fond of l’Épopée. 

Dinner began with a mis en bouche of crème fraiche, herbs, and tomato purée.  It was exceptionally good; it awakened the taste buds.

Our starter course of chicken and mushrooms in a pastry was fine.  But the main courses stole the show.  Mine was a tender piece of cod, encrusted with peppercorns and served with softly cooked, colorful veggies and a carrot purée.  Tom’s was a tasty beef filet.  We shared a dessert of profiteroles with rich, dark chocolate sauce.

Cod encrusted with peppercorns, served with veggies and pureed carrots.

Cool, early autumn air greeted us as we left the restaurant.  This year, I am enjoying September in Paris more than ever.  That’s because we’re in the 15^th, living among Parisians, in a very civilized fashion.  We’re here in this sunny, familiar apartment, in a good old building where we know the neighbors, and they are nice.