Beautiful Churches on a Lovely Day

Notre Dame

August 23, 2016 -- While I love to look at Notre Dame from the outside, I admit that other churches in Paris have interiors that intrigue me more.  One of those is Saint Séverin.  Part of the reason is the forest of columns in its ambulatory, especially the twisted column.  Somehow this twisted column represents exuberance to me.  The expository plaque in the church suggests that it represents the “Tree of Life,” and how “good overcomes evil and the Resurrection of Christ is a wonder.”

Twisted column in the middle of the ambulatory and modern stained glass windows in the absidial chapel of
the Saint Severin church.

This section of the Saint Séverin church dates back to 1489 to 1495.  Another plaque in the church states that this part “is the triumph of Parisian flamboyant gothic style.”

Flamboyant.  I like it.  I also deeply appreciate the modern stained glass windows near the twisted column.  They are part of what is called the absidial chapel.  The windows were created by Jean Bazaine (1904-2001), and were installed in 1970.  They exude life in this otherwise fairly somber church.

The history of the church as explained on plaques in the church differs a little from the history contained in Wikipedia.  Today, I’ll go with the church’s version.  (Maybe someone from the church should correct the Wikipedia article?)

Folklore says that on this site was an oratory erected in ancient times, near the tomb of a hermit named Severin, who died in 555.  But information in the church states that it is dedicated to a different Séverin, one who started the Agaune Abbey in Switzerland.  A church was most likely constructed here by the 11^th century, but it is long gone. 

The Saint Severin church, as seen from the rue Saint Jacques, in the 5th arrondissement.

The Saint Séverin church that we see now began in the 13^th century.  Like so many of these old churches, it was expanded and modified in the centuries that followed.  Wikipedia claims that a fire destroyed the old church in 1448.  Whoever wrote the church plaque information isn’t so sure.  The plaque states that the destruction could have been due to neglect during the Hundred Years’ War.

We left Saint Séverin to wander through the part of the maze of medieval streets where that corner of the 5^th arrondissement meets a corner of the 6^th arrondissement. 

The Abbey Bookshop

As always, we walked by the quaint Abbey bookshop on the rue de la Parcheminerie.  As always, the shop was jam-packed with books – almost all in English.  The shop is run by Brian, who is a friend of our bibliophile friend who owns the apartment where we stay.

We didn’t stop in the bookshop because our dinner reservation time was fast approaching. 

Dinner was at yet another of the former Chartier bouillons:  Bouillon Racine, on the rue Racine, near the Odéon national theater.

We’ve dined at Bouillon Racine at least once a year for the past decade or so.  We know that it can be very good. 

The Abbey bookshop, rue Parcheminerie

Last night, the results were mixed.  The crabmeat starter course looked beautiful (except for terribly wilted lettuce scattered “decoratively” around the edges of the plate).  But the taste was bland.

Our main courses, duckling for me and steak for Tom, were absolutely delicious – but only just barely warm – almost cold.

For some reason, Tom ordered two desserts – a dish of ice cream, and a chocolate fondant with a scoop of raspberry sorbet.  I liked the sorbet, but I left the rest of it to him.  I guess he was taking full advantage of the Lafourchette.com 40% discount (food items only; not beverages).

The restaurant is a gorgeous Art Nouveau wonder.  But near us the coat closet “door” was a tattered and dirty curtain – a far cry from the lustrous blue velvet curtains at La Vagenende.  Then again, La Vagenende does not offer a discount . . . .

We had taken the metro out to the 5^th arrondissement, so we decided to walk back, part of the way, to the Sevres-Babylone metro station.  If it were daytime, we would have walked the whole way home.  But we were tired.  Our bedtime was approaching.

So we enjoyed the evening stroll through the elegant Place de l’Odéon, by the national theatre, and through the familiar streets of the 6^th until we reached our metro station near the Bon Marché department store.

The upstairs dining room at Bouillon Racine, on the rue Racine.

Today begins a 5-day streak of hot weather.  So I took my walk early this morning, solo, through the neighborhoods alongside the Champ de Mars.  When I was almost home again, at about 8AM, I slipped into the bakery to buy a baguette for Tom.  He was thrilled to have a fresh baguette in the morning as he had his coffee – none of that toasted stale bread today!

La Vagenende and the Vagabond Cat

August 22, 2016 -- Wings on our heels, we walked quickly and painlessly to the Luxembourg Gardens yesterday.  The flowers there have never looked so lush and vibrant.  All the rain in late Spring and early Summer was ideal for them.  The grass is greener over there, in the Luxembourg Gardens, than it is on the Champ de Mars.

The Luxembourg Gardens

We entered the park in our usual way, after strolling through the Place Saint Sulpice and down the rue Férou, past the long wall with the Rimbaud poem, Le Bateau Ivre, past the luxurious apartment where Hemingway lived with Pauline.

The Place Saint Sulpice

After crossing the rue Vaugirard, we were in that glorious park that the French Senat owns, and so graciously allows the people to enjoy.

The apiary was even looking better than ever, with all the bee boxes in good condition, and the little fountain in the middle spewing away.

The apiary at the Luxembourg Gardens, with small gray metal fountain.

The great Medici fountain, on the other side of the park, was also in fine form.  Ducks were paddling, great goldfish-like carp were carping, and people were sitting along the water’s edge, mostly looking at their cell phones.

Tom said he was feeling great – far better than the first time we took our granddaughters to the Luxembourg Gardens.  That was right before he had chemo the first time – several years ago.  Tom said he was also feeling better than last summer when we were in Paris.  I feel a great lightness of being upon hearing that.

Memorial to Edouard Branly, physicist, in the Luxembourg Gardens.

There was no better state of mind for enjoying that glorious green space in the heart of Paris, on a perfect summer day.  Every day is a blessing, but some are more blessed than others.

Toward the dinner hour, we strolled up the Avenue de Tournon – so obviously a former Roman road – so straight, so wide.  Where it changes names to the rue de Seine, its scale changes as well.  On the rue de Seine, you know you are in Old Paris.  When we cut over to the rue de Gregoire du Tours we sensed the age of the city even more, as the streetscape became even cozier and more intimate.

Interior of La Vagenende.

We paused outside Glozaria, a Brazilian-Portuguese restaurant, to examine the menu.  We’ll be dining there soon with friends.  A young woman from Portugal and Brazil came out to chat with us.  She’s only been in Paris for ten days, and she wanted to practice her English.  That’s always easier to do with English speakers who also speak French.

Then it was time for dinner.  Back around the corner on the Boulevard Saint Germain, we entered La Vagenende, another stunningly beautiful Art Nouveau former bouillon where we like to have the occasional Sunday dinner.

Interior of La Vagenende.

I can never resist the Quenelles de Brochet, Sauce Nantua (crawfish sauce), at La Vagenende.  Tom ordered the rack of lamb.  Both dishes take extra time – a full 20 minutes – to prepare, the menu cautioned.

No matter.  We ordered six large escargots to share to keep the hunger pangs at bay.  These snails were served in their big shells, with lots of garlic-parsley-melted butter inside.  We savored them, then waited peacefully in that dining room so lovely that we felt like we were in a fairly tale, or on a movie set – someplace not quite real.

Quenelles at La Vagenende.

The quenelles in their copper pot, like free-floating soufflés, were smooth, rich, and fluffy.  The crawfish sauce was really a bisque or Béchamel sauce, and was exactly as it should be.  Tom’s lamb was rosy and flavorful.  His fries were excellent – almost exactly like Christian Vivet’s truffle fries at the Bleu Rendez Vous Bistro on Sanibel Island, back home.

Rack of lamb and fries at La Vagenende.

Dessert was a shared order of profiteroles – almost as good at the ones at Le Pario.

Even though we had walked all the way over to the 6^th from the 15^th, we decided that we should walk home as well – at least as far as the Tour-Maubourg metro station – because of this rich dinner.

At the beginning of our walk to the 6^th, we noticed a Lost Cat poster on the rue de la Croix Nivert.  I photographed it.  Then this morning, as I was processing yesterday’s photos, I realized that this cat pictured on the poster was very much like the cat we saw in the garden of the Musée du Quai Branly on about August 8.  Without this journal, I would not have been able to remember the approximate date.

Wanted:  We have lost a Chartreux-type cat.  If you have seen a solid-gray cat of
a certain corpulence, please contact us at 0622157725.

That’s quite some distance, between the poster site and the garden, but still it is less than a mile, I think.  The poster did not state when the cat disappeared.  Is that because the cat’s owner/staff just left him out during vacation?  Therefore the date of disappearance is not exactly known?

Nevertheless, I texted the information I have to the phone number on the poster.  I hope that cat and owner/staff are reunited.

I would have described the cat we saw in the garden as a bedraggled Russian Blue.  But I am not familiar with French cat breeds.  Evidently, there is a French breed called Chartreux that looks a lot like a Russian Blue.  The poster called the missing cat a Chartreux.  I read the description of the Chartreux in Wikipedia, and was amazed at how many details about the Branly garden cat’s fur and build matched the description in Wikipedia.

The Medici fountain in the Luxembourg gardens.

One of the most intriguing sentences in the Wikipedia article on the Chartreux is, “Legend also has it that the Chartreux's ancestors were feral mountain cats from what is now Syria, brought back to France by returning Crusaders in the 13th century, many of whom entered the Carthusian monastic order.”

Not refugees from Syria, but captives from Syria.

These cats lived in the wild in France until the World Wars.  After World War II, the Chartreux were almost extinct.  (Did people eat cats during the food shortages???)  The Chartreux were brought back from the brink of extinction by European cat breeders.

If I were an abandoned or lost cat, I am certain that I’d be attracted to the garden at the Musée du Quai Branly – Jacques Chirac.  There I’d find clean water; fish, mice, and ducklings to eat; lots of swamp and jungle vegetation to prowl through; and shelter from the rain.  But I would not find protection from cruel Winter weather.  I do hope the lost one is found soon.

French man on a Velib bicycle in front of a fine, very old door at 74 rue Guynemer, by the Place Saint Sulpice.

La Vagenende and the Vagabond Cat

August 22, 2016 -- Wings on our heels, we walked quickly and painlessly to the Luxembourg Gardens yesterday.  The flowers there have never looked so lush and vibrant.  All the rain in late Spring and early Summer was ideal for them.  The grass is greener over there, in the Luxembourg Gardens, than it is on the Champ de Mars.

The Luxembourg Gardens

We entered the park in our usual way, after strolling through the Place Saint Sulpice and down the rue Férou, past the long wall with the Rimbaud poem, Le Bateau Ivre, past the luxurious apartment where Hemingway lived with Pauline.

The Place Saint Sulpice

After crossing the rue Vaugirard, we were in that glorious park that the French Senat owns, and so graciously allows the people to enjoy.

The apiary was even looking better than ever, with all the bee boxes in good condition, and the little fountain in the middle spewing away.

The apiary at the Luxembourg Gardens, with small gray metal fountain.

The great Medici fountain, on the other side of the park, was also in fine form.  Ducks were paddling, great goldfish-like carp were carping, and people were sitting along the water’s edge, mostly looking at their cell phones.

Tom said he was feeling great – far better than the first time we took our granddaughters to the Luxembourg Gardens.  That was right before he had chemo the first time – several years ago.  Tom said he was also feeling better than last summer when we were in Paris.  I feel a great lightness of being upon hearing that.

Memorial to Edouard Branly, physicist, in the Luxembourg Gardens.

There was no better state of mind for enjoying that glorious green space in the heart of Paris, on a perfect summer day.  Every day is a blessing, but some are more blessed than others.

Toward the dinner hour, we strolled up the Avenue de Tournon – so obviously a former Roman road – so straight, so wide.  Where it changes names to the rue de Seine, its scale changes as well.  On the rue de Seine, you know you are in Old Paris.  When we cut over to the rue de Gregoire du Tours we sensed the age of the city even more, as the streetscape became even cozier and more intimate.

Interior of La Vagenende.

We paused outside Glozaria, a Brazilian-Portuguese restaurant, to examine the menu.  We’ll be dining there soon with friends.  A young woman from Portugal and Brazil came out to chat with us.  She’s only been in Paris for ten days, and she wanted to practice her English.  That’s always easier to do with English speakers who also speak French.

Then it was time for dinner.  Back around the corner on the Boulevard Saint Germain, we entered La Vagenende, another stunningly beautiful Art Nouveau former bouillon where we like to have the occasional Sunday dinner.

Interior of La Vagenende.

I can never resist the Quenelles de Brochet, Sauce Nantua (crawfish sauce), at La Vagenende.  Tom ordered the rack of lamb.  Both dishes take extra time – a full 20 minutes – to prepare, the menu cautioned.

No matter.  We ordered six large escargots to share to keep the hunger pangs at bay.  These snails were served in their big shells, with lots of garlic-parsley-melted butter inside.  We savored them, then waited peacefully in that dining room so lovely that we felt like we were in a fairly tale, or on a movie set – someplace not quite real.

Quenelles at La Vagenende.

The quenelles in their copper pot, like free-floating soufflés, were smooth, rich, and fluffy.  The crawfish sauce was really a bisque or Béchamel sauce, and was exactly as it should be.  Tom’s lamb was rosy and flavorful.  His fries were excellent – almost exactly like Christian Vivet’s truffle fries at the Bleu Rendez Vous Bistro on Sanibel Island, back home.

Rack of lamb and fries at La Vagenende.

Dessert was a shared order of profiteroles – almost as good at the ones at Le Pario.

Even though we had walked all the way over to the 6^th from the 15^th, we decided that we should walk home as well – at least as far as the Tour-Maubourg metro station – because of this rich dinner.

At the beginning of our walk to the 6^th, we noticed a Lost Cat poster on the rue de la Croix Nivert.  I photographed it.  Then this morning, as I was processing yesterday’s photos, I realized that this cat pictured on the poster was very much like the cat we saw in the garden of the Musée du Quai Branly on about August 8.  Without this journal, I would not have been able to remember the approximate date.

Wanted:  We have lost a Chartreux-type cat.  If you have seen a solid-gray cat of
a certain corpulence, please contact us at 0622157725.

That’s quite some distance, between the poster site and the garden, but still it is less than a mile, I think.  The poster did not state when the cat disappeared.  Is that because the cat’s owner/staff just left him out during vacation?  Therefore the date of disappearance is not exactly known?

Nevertheless, I texted the information I have to the phone number on the poster.  I hope that cat and owner/staff are reunited.

I would have described the cat we saw in the garden as a bedraggled Russian Blue.  But I am not familiar with French cat breeds.  Evidently, there is a French breed called Chartreux that looks a lot like a Russian Blue.  The poster called the missing cat a Chartreux.  I read the description of the Chartreux in Wikipedia, and was amazed at how many details about the Branly garden cat’s fur and build matched the description in Wikipedia.

The Medici fountain in the Luxembourg gardens.

One of the most intriguing sentences in the Wikipedia article on the Chartreux is, “Legend also has it that the Chartreux's ancestors were feral mountain cats from what is now Syria, brought back to France by returning Crusaders in the 13th century, many of whom entered the Carthusian monastic order.”

Not refugees from Syria, but captives from Syria.

These cats lived in the wild in France until the World Wars.  After World War II, the Chartreux were almost extinct.  (Did people eat cats during the food shortages???)  The Chartreux were brought back from the brink of extinction by European cat breeders.

If I were an abandoned or lost cat, I am certain that I’d be attracted to the garden at the Musée du Quai Branly – Jacques Chirac.  There I’d find clean water; fish, mice, and ducklings to eat; lots of swamp and jungle vegetation to prowl through; and shelter from the rain.  But I would not find protection from cruel Winter weather.  I do hope the lost one is found soon.

French man on a Velib bicycle in front of a fine, very old door at 74 rue Guynemer, by the Place Saint Sulpice.

Cozy Bollards and the Punjab Palace

August 21, 2016 -- The walk was aimless at first, then somewhere on the Champ de Mars, I said, “Let’s walk up the Avenue Rapp.”  It happened like this:

We’d paused on a bench in a quiet nook of the Champ, surrounded by shrubbery, trees, and flowerbeds.  As we rose to walk again, we could not take our normal route straight through the park because the lawn was being re-seeded in that section; it was fenced off.

View from the bench where we paused in the Champ de Mars.

That directed us up closer to the round Place Jacques Rueff, in the middle of the Champ.  That reminded me of how the angled Avenue de Barbey-d’Aurevilly in the park lines up with the angled Avenue Rapp to the northeast of the park.  Then I recalled that the Avenue Rapp has the incomparably beautiful Art Nouveau building designed by Jules Lavirotte and built at number 29 in 1901 – something we must see every summer.  (See photos below.)

We sauntered up the avenue until we saw it, the gorgeous façade designed for the residence of ceramics manufacturer Alexandre Bigot by Jules Lavirotte.  Bigot manufactured many beautiful Art Nouveau ceramics designed by people like Lavirotte.  But Bigot didn’t diversify, so when Art Nouveau faded from style, his company went out of business.

We crossed to the other side of the avenue and continued toward the Seine when suddenly Tom stopped me and said, “Look!”

Bollards with cute hats on the Avenue Rapp.

He was pointing to the bollards that keep cars from parking on the sidewalk.  Tom always notices bollards for some reason, but this time, I agree, they were something to see.  Here someone had crocheted colorful hats for several of the bollards.  Cute!  Colorful!

Next we noticed the boutique hotel Le Derby Alma at the corner of avenues Rapp and Franco-Russe. I love the pretty glass awning over its entry.

Le Derby Alma on the Avenue Rapp

We spotted the gracious Italian restaurant Dell Angelo, where we dined once, years ago.  It was good, and the service was great.  But for some reason we never returned.  The food wasn’t memorable.

Then we were delighted to see that the Cité de l’Alma – a gated lane – was open to pedestrians.  We crossed the avenue and slipped through the gate to admire this quaint residential lane that led us over to the Avenue Bosquet – another avenue we have not yet walked along this summer.

By the time we had ambled down Bosquet and gazed in many shop windows – particularly the antique stores – the sky was threatening to rain and the wind had picked up.  We quickened our pace across the Champ de Mars and along the avenue de la Motte Picquet until we were in front of Monoprix.

Tom wanted to shop for men’s clothes.  After several minutes inside, we found that Monoprix didn’t have what he wanted, so we exited just as the rain started up.  Fortunately, I had my little flowered umbrella.  We squeezed together under it and managed not to be terribly soaked by the time we reached home.

The Punjab Palace on rue Lecourbe.

In the evening, we went out again, in the opposite direction.  Dinner was at the Punjab Palace on the rue LeCourbe.  We’d noticed this Indian resto when we walked to Le Beurre Noisette the other night.  After checking out the reviews on TripAdvisor and Lafourchette, I decided we had to give it a try.  We are needing to find a new favorite Indian restaurant in Paris.  The two we used to like just aren’t good enough anymore.

So we dined on pakora, lamb korma, lamb hadrabadi, and cheese nan.  Service was kind and thorough, and the food was all delicious.  The ambiance was gorgeous.  Well-capitalized Indian restaurants are the best.  And so the Punjab Palace at 299 rue Lecourbe is now our Indian place.

Lavirotte building on the Avenue Rapp.

Simply wonderful

August 20, 2016 -- We don’t have to walk far to find the wonderful here in Paris.

Witness this article posted recently by one of you dear readers (thank you, Sandy) who wanted to share this with francophile friends:  Six of the Best Historic Restaurants in Paris. 

Le Cafe du Commerce, on the rue du Commerce.

We’re familiar with these bouillons, and have dined in several of them.  One is right next door – or rather, behind us.  Our apartment building and this picturesque restaurant have abutting courtyards.

This is Le Café du Commerce, a beautiful restaurant arranged on three levels that used to be a fabric store, a long time ago.

A brass plate with our table number, on the wood
railing overlooking the atrium, next to our table.  These
table numbers are a typical bouillon feature.

From our kitchen, we look down at the retracting glass roof that covers the grand atrium of this restaurant.  I am certain that it is a modern replacement for the old verriere (decorative glass ceiling or awing) that must have covered the fabric store, to allow lots of light for customers making discerning choices for their next sewing projects.

A few days ago, we looked down on a technician who was replacing the notched belt that helps to make the large ceiling open and close.  He was precariously moving back and forth in a gutter installed for these periodic maintenance jobs.

Le Cafe du Commerce's latest postcard.

I remember in years past when the ceiling clanked and squeaked as it opened or closed.  Now it works noiselessly.  In years past, lots of sparrows would visit the restaurant when the ceiling was open, which was almost all summer.  Now, a high-tech sonic system keeps the birds away – and that’s a good thing, health-wise.

We remember many years ago when the cuisine at Le Café du Commerce was only so-so.  But for quite a few years now, the restaurant has been exceedingly well managed and has a talented kitchen crew.

Poster near the busy bartender says, "I don't like commerce, but I go
to the Cafe du Commerce."

Traditional French cuisine is what Le Café du Commerce offers (as do other bouillons).

In 1921, this former fabric store joined the Chartier collection of bouillons in Paris.  Back then, it was a perfect location for offering good lunches to the factory workers in the area.  Now it  is a perfect location for offering good lunches and dinners to shoppers, locals, and tourists (the Eiffel Tower is not far away).

We went for a short walk first, almost up to the rue Cler.  We would have walked farther, but we heard a beautiful violin playing.  I spotted a young woman, about 19 years old, on the other side of the Avenue de la Motte Picquet.  She was playing an electric violin beautifully.

She and her grandmother sat on folding stools in front of a real estate office that was closed for August.  This is not a typical place for busking; we’ve never seen street entertainers there before.

During a lull in the traffic, we scampered across the avenue, and stood between a couple utility poles to listen for a while.

I would guess from the grandmother’s attire and the pair’s facial features that the family comes from a moderate Muslim culture – perhaps they were Kurds.  And I’d guess the daughter is in Paris to study music.

I was reminded of how many Asian graduate students at Ohio State would have their entire families move to the U.S. with them while they earned their higher degrees.  This young woman’s grandmother was clearly enjoying her stay in Paris – at least, she was enjoying it when her daughter played music for the people.

The music was all popular American tunes – from the Great American Songbook, and a country tune here and there.  The bespectacled young musician was using electronic rhythm tracks to accompany her playing.  Her amplified speaker, tied to a shopping trolley, gave good quality sound.  She was tastefully attired in blue jeans, colorful sneakers, a leopard print shirt, and black vest;  she also had a long, thick braid of black hair.

After we’d listened for a while, it was time to run an errand and go back, to the restaurant.  We put a few euros in the young woman’s violin case, and she and her grandmother thanked us graciously.

After stopping at the parapharmacie to buy a big bottle of liquid soap from Marseille (orange blossom scented, of course, for Floridians) and some dental floss, we were ready for dinner.

The maître d’hotel, headwaiters, and servers are all impeccably dressed at Le Café du Commerce – gray or black suits and ties for the headwaiters and maître d’, and back vests, slacks and ties, with black aprons and crisp white shirts for the servers.  We were warmly greeted, given a paper ticket with a table number, and directed to the staircase leading to the best tables, one level up from the ground floor.

Tom waits for his dinner.

Upstairs, I gave the paper ticket to the theatrical headwaiter, who dramatically showed us to our table, number 124.  Looking up through the glass ceiling, we saw the top branches of the ailanthus tree in our courtyard.

We ordered just one main course each:  steak frites for Tom, and a whole roasted golden bream fish with vegetables for me.  The fish was one of the specials of the day.

When the food arrived, the server politely asked if I wanted him to debone the fish.  I responded that I do it myself.  He seemed to be pleased with that.

I watch Tom waiting for his dinner.

The food was very good – “correct,” as the French say.  Nobody tried to speak English with us at this restaurant, and we appreciate that.  Tom’s fries were hot, and the steak was large – so he once again spirited some of it away in a zippered plastic bag in his jacket pocket.

That was necessary, so he could enjoy a pleasant dish of three scoops of ice cream for dessert – no fancy French concoctions last night.

Just good food, correctly prepared and presented, in a glorious setting.

A Grand Damp Evening

August 19, 2016 -- Yesterday was a good day for working at the computers, and it was a good day for the plants on the balcony.  (Tom wrote the study questions for an essay by Sonia Sotomayor, for the 9th edition of the Norton Sampler.)  The drizzly rain was not so conducive for walking, but the evening weather radar looked promising.  I had given too much credence to the weather radar, however; we’d gone out without an umbrella.  We had to pause under awnings several times for several minutes on our long walk to dinner.

Flowers in the Place du Commerce -- the park nearest to our apartment.

No matter. We had plenty of time.  And Tom grabbed a half-broken umbrella out of a waste bin.  We used it for part of the way, then he pitched it into another bin when the rain stopped.  (Yes, he did wash his hands as soon as he arrived at the restaurant!)

When we finally arrived at 68 rue Vasco de Gama, the restaurant had opened and we were warmly greeted by a properly professional and pleasant waiter.

This restaurant, Le Beurre Noisette, had been recommended to us by Abra, the daughter of an old friend and great Floridian who was from Chicago.  Abra now lives with her family in Versailles, but she comes into Paris often enough to be able to make some great recommendations.

This restaurant is one of them – and I mean truly great.  This was our best dinner of the summer so far.

The quiet back dining room of Le Beurre Noisette.

We’d dined there once before (see July 23, 2015).  Once again, the restaurant filled up entirely with French speakers.  We found that to be reassuring, after our visit to Le Florimond.  At Le Beurre Noisette, we were far away from any tourist attraction.  This time, we were seated in the back dining room, which is quieter than the front room.  We had a pleasant little table near a window looking out at the “garden.”  That’s what you get when you reserve well in advance!

For each of us, the dinner began with a savory, cheesy, delicious little homemade biscuit as a mis-en-bouche.  Our usual order of a large bottle of sparkling water arrived as a bottle of water that had been carbonated on site – thus recycling the bottles.  We appreciate this environmentally sound choice, and I must say that the water was especially good, with the finest of bubbles.  (Sodastream bubbles are much coarser.)

For a starter course, we shared a slice of delicious country terrine – a marbré -- with layers of duck and sumptuous foie gras, accompanied by a sweet confiture.  That came with a few slices of toasted bread, but I opted to use a piece of the bread from the basket instead: a very fresh, soft country bread with a thick, crunchy crust. 

The marbré, or terrine, made with foie gras and duck.

We each ordered the confite of lamb shoulder roast, which arrived at the table in a copper casserole dish to be served family style.  Tomatoes, onion, and garlic were roasted with the lamb, and the entire dish took comfort food to a new level.  The soft, deep flavors melded and melted in our mouths – oh, so, so good!

There was too much of this main course, so Tom surreptitiously put much of it into a zippered food storage bag that he had stashed in the inner pocket of his jacket.  It rests in the fridge now, waiting for lunch time.

Le Beurre Noisette is good value, at three courses for 36 euros (a euro costs $1.13 now).  We had one 3-course menu, and then two dishes a la carte.  And of course the 36 euros includes tax and tip.  A glass of wine was 7 euros, and the large bottle of sparkling water was only 3 euros.

We would normally have ordered only one dessert to share, but there were two desserts that we wanted to try.  So Tom ordered the baba au rhum served with St. James rhum agricole from Martinique, and I ordered the brioche perdue with apricot.  This is one of the best baba’s we’ve had in Paris, and the pain perdu was as good as, and maybe better than, the one at O Fil Rouge.  Heavenly.

Tom serves himself some roasted lamb and veggies from the copper pot.

What a dinner!  Fortunately, the walk home was a long one – one that reminds us of just how huge the 15^th arrondissement is.  It is the largest in Paris, if you don’t count the Bois de Boulogne as part of the 16^th.

The 15^th is indisputably the largest arrondissement in terms of population.  Once you’ve walked around the southern reaches of the 15^th, where Le Beurre Noisette is located, or along the Petite Ceinture promenade, and you see all the large residential buildings built from the 1960s to the present, you understand where all those many people live.

Still, there is plenty of old-fashioned charm in these neighborhoods, too.  We were taken by two townhomes next to a restaurant across from Le Beurre Noisette. 

The roasted lamb and veggies on the plate, with some creamy
puréed potatoes that came as a side dish.

Single-family homes like this are rare in Paris, except for the occasional hameau, or little street like Villa Léandre on Montmartre, or the converted workshop that I showed you in this journal on August 17.  (Hameau literally means hamlet, but in Paris, it is a little private lane – often gated – with small homes.)

One of these two townhomes obviously needs work; the other one looks like it has been completely renovated.  Tom admired the hefty wood balcony railing on the renovated home; I thought it was a bit out of scale with the building.  We both would love to see inside.

Two townhomes across from 68 rue Vasco de Gama

Our walk home was up the utterly familiar Avenue Félix Faure, a street graced by many well-tended Haussmannian apartment buildings.  In the fading light, I could see easily into the elegant, lighted entryways for many of the buildings that we passed along the way.  The damp, cool evening air was refreshing, and the sights and sounds of our neighborhood were welcoming.