The Mundane Matters

The gray sky and drizzle of rain are welcome today.  To simply call it a gray sky is not fair.  The sky looks pillowy and soft, like a favorite old velveteen comforter. 

Instead of a 30 percent humidity, we now have 74 percent.  My sinuses feel alive again.  They aren't used to dry air. 

This is a good day for working at the computers and doing the laundry.  And so it goes.

Yesterday was very warm.  To avoid sitting in a hot restaurant, we opted for finally trying the Italian place in the ground level of our building.  We ordered the Pizza Diavolo -- essentially, a pepperoni pizza.

The place is tiny, but somehow 16 chairs have been squeezed into the space.  The kitchen must be tiny, too, and it must have a very hot oven to turn out such good pizza.  So, while we could have dined in the restaurant and received a 20 percent lafourchette.com discount, we opted for take-out instead. 

The proprietors are Claudio and Rita Ari.  We met Rita, and she was adorably welcoming and charming.  She told me that my French was very good. 

We chatted, ordered the pizza, and left for the bakery.  In fifteen minutes, we returned, the pizza was hot and ready, we paid up, thanked Rita and told her we'd see her again soon.

Up in the apartment, we opened the pizza box.  Instead of round, this pizza was amoeba-shaped.  That just made it look all the more authentic.

Plant on the balcony give us an
endless supply of cherry tomatoes.

The crust was thin and very pliable -- perfect for folding and eating New York-style.

The sausage slices were small but delicious.  And the cheese and tomato sauce were delightful.  Yes, this was the best pizza we've ever had in Paris -- and we've been summering here for 21 years now.

I wouldn't say it is the best pizza I've ever had.  That honor goes to the long-gone Rotolo's pizza that was on West Fifth or West Third Avenue in Grandview Heights, a suburb of Columbus, Ohio, many years ago.

Now I realize that I cannot give you the name of this fine Italian deli/pizza parlor/resto because that would reveal our exact address in Paris.  I never do that in this blog. 

Astute readers can figure out the neighborhood, however, and with a little footwork while in Paris, they can find this Italian gem.

While I'm on the subject of casual food, I want to mention the peanut butter I found in FranPrix a couple weeks ago.  This "Ethiquable"  (ethical and equitable) brand is made by a cooperative of women in the northern part of Nicaragua.  The coop has 3500 members.  This spread is 95 percent peanuts, with a little sunflower oil added.  That's it.  No sugar, no chemicals.  It is delicious.

I don't remember the price, but I'm sure it was very reasonable.  And the ingredients are certified Fair Trade.

While I'm still on the subject of mundane things like pizza and peanut butter, let me mention the leaf blower I saw in use several mornings ago on a busy Paris avenue.  In the U.S., many communities are thinking of banning leaf blowers because they are so darned noisy.  We've started talking about it on Sanibel Island.  I'm interested in the example set by the Village of Key Biscayne, where they have banned gasoline-powered leaf blowers -- because of both noise and air pollution.

Unquestionably. electric leaf blowers are quieter.  I've heard some on Sanibel.  But the one I heard here in Paris the other day was almost whisper quiet!  And it was doing a great job, sweeping away big chestnut and plane tree leaves as well as litter. 

Peace and quiet matters in Paris.  This city is plenty noisy, but it is nothing like Rome, London, or New York. 

The mundane matters.

Pizza for Philippe

July 21, 2017 -- We dined at three Italian restaurants in the past three days, and each one was different from the others.  I’ve already written about Bacco, the fine Italian place on rue Mademoiselle.  There is no pizza to be found at Bacco.  It just isn’t that kind of place.

The next night we dined at Pietro Commerce, and we were surprised about several things there.  First I should explain that this is a local chain of five well-capitalized restaurants:  four in the 15^th arrondissement, and one on the Champs Elysees.

Bartholdi's Statue of Liberty on the Ile aux Cygnes.

Pietro Commerce is the one closest to us, right across from the centerpiece of the neighborhood, the St. John the Baptist of Grenelle church.  We remember that years ago, this was the site of a restaurant known for its bouillabaisse.  Then it became a restaurant that featured the country cuisine of the Auvergne area.  Initially, I think I was dismayed to see that an Italian place featuring pizza and pasta replaced the French country cuisine.  But I am no longer dismayed.

Pietro made many much-needed improvements to the building, including adding serious air conditioning.  The interior is clean, inviting, and modern.  The wait staff is friendly and helpful.  The food arrives at the table fairly quickly, yet it is all homemade.  The pizza is the best I’ve ever eaten in Paris – by far.  It is far better than almost all the pizzas I’ve eaten in my life.  Tom had his beloved beef carpaccio, and it was delicious.  He also helped me with that pizza.  Tom eyed the big antipasto platters delivered to a nearby table that was occupied by a large family.  He wants to take Dan and the granddaughters there next week so we can share a couple of those platters with them.

Swan in the Seine, near the Ile aux Cygnes.

Parisians generally eat pizza and hamburgers with a knife and fork.  So do I, especially when I’m in Paris.  This reminds me of the issue of Charlie Hebdo that I bought just before Bastille day.  Charlie Hebdo is a weekly tabloid of pure sarcasm; the editors and writers lampoon everything and everyone.

So of course, they made fun of the American president (as well as the French president) during that holiday week because the American president and his wife, Melania, were visiting Paris then.  However, the Charlie Hebdo writers did not do their research.

They assumed that the American president eats big, juicy, messy hamburgers with his hands – as most Americans do.  That’s how they portrayed him in a cartoon on Page 2 of that edition.    In fact, the American president eats hamburgers and pizza with a knife and fork, just as Parisians do, in spite of the fact that the American president is a New Yorker.  New Yorkers generally take pride in the way they eat pizza with their hands (folding it first, of course).

Allee des Cygnes, on the Ile aux Cygnes.

Enough of this multi-cultural discussion.  Let me return to the subject of three Italian restaurants.

Last night, we dined at another relatively new place, Ristorantino Shardana, which is on the rue du Theatre just several doors down and across the street from our apartment.

Shardana features the cuisine of Sardinia, the second largest island in the Mediterranean Sea.  It takes its name from the name for warriors who occupied that island in the 11^th Century B.C.

Seafood is important in Sardinia, and so it is important on Shardana’s menu.  We both had the daurade (sea bream) and vegetables – which were excellent.  Our shared starter was a lovely little mountain of burrata covered with layers of super-thinly sliced beefsteak tomatoes and fresh basil.  (There is no pizza at Shardana).

Jardin Caroline Aigle, named for a female French fighter pilot.

I found a French restaurant review which claims that the beef at Shardana is very tender, so we may try that next time. 

We have high opinions of all three of these Italian restaurants in our neighborhood.  Each one is worth a trip from elsewhere in Paris.  My only caution is that Shardana does not have good air conditioning.  Fortunately for us, the weather has cooled down.

Yesterday afternoon’s long walk was down the rue Lecourbe and rue de Sevres to the boulevard Montparnasse.  We passed by the enormous Necker children’s hospital that Melania visited on July 13.  After passing Necker, we veered off to venture into the C&A store in the Maine commercial center on the rue de l’Arrivée near the Montparnasse skyscraper.

Finally, I found the people who shop in Paris.  They are in the C&A store.  They come from all over the world.  For the most part, these masses of shoppers are not in the smaller shops and boutiques.

At C&A, I found a sleek, flowing black cardigan that goes with everything for just 25 euros.  That’s all I needed; but Tom and I enjoyed looking at the masses of shoppers who were energized by the plentiful stock of good values. 

Shop window full of honey jars, in the 5th arrondissement.

I’m convinced now that the reason women’s clothing shops are fairly empty in Paris is that they stock mainly sizes 2 through 10 (U.S. sizes). 

However, 75 percent of all women are larger than that.  Those shops are catering to 25 percent of the female population, and the other 75 percent are shopping at C&A (or similar places).

I do like a shop called Le Monde et Nous, however, and I will return there soon (on the avenue Felix Faure).  The Italian-French shopkeeper there carries nice, very feminine Italian clothing and shoes for all sizes.

That brings us back to things Italian.  I should mention that most bakeries in Paris now carry ready-made individually sized pizzas for those who want a quick lunch or snack.  Neither one of us has ever tried one of these French bakery pizzas, so we don’t know how good or bad they might be. 

The arcade in the Place des Vosges.

Tom bought two the other day, however, for the local homeless guy who we often see and greet in our neighborhood.  When our favorite bakery is open, this guy sits on a stoop nearby.  The guy’s name is Philippe.

Tom asked Philippe if he could get him something from the bakery.  Philippe thanked Tom and said that yes, he would like to have pizza.  What kind of pizza, Tom asked.  Philippe said to just say “un pizza pour Philippe,” and the gals in the bakery would know what to sell to him.  Tom did so, and was given two slices of pizza to buy for Philippe.  Philippe was glad to receive them.