Reactivation

Right now we are engaged in deep travel preparation for our trip to "down under." It will be the longest time I have ever been away from home. It will be quite the trip starting in Australia --> then New Zealand --> then Thailand, Laos and Malaysia.

What has me obsessed right now is a commitment to traveling LIGHT. One backpack and one rolling suitcase. Can it be done? Stay tuned. Departure scheduled for Monday, December 17.

The perfect baguette

Here is a link to a story about this year's best baguette in Paris competition.

Mysteries from Le Metro

OK. I have been looking at this advertisement twice a day for nearly a month and it was only yesterday that I figured out what it was about. I mean I KNOW it is a Eurostar add ... but why this picture? Can you tell?

You can tell you're in Europe when ...

The words Georgetown and North Carolina are nowhere to be found in the print or TV media and instead you are presented endless reruns of cricket matches.

I have a theory ...

I have a theory about toilets in Europe that was proved true yet again yesterday at Gare du Nord. The theory is : If you have to pay to use the toilet, then you can expect -->

NO TOILET SEAT

Nonetheless, I suppose I am to feel well treated when on closer examination I discovered that the toilet bowl was made by Villeroy and Boch.

My secret courtyard

The kitchen window in our first floor apartment looks across to a dressmaker’s shop. Every morning at 9:00 Madame arrives, hangs up her coat and puts on her pink work coat. At the end of each day a new dress is hanging in the window. At first I didn’t pay much attention across the courtyard. But dress making seems to be the life’s blood of this part of Paris.

Material, lace, and racks of dresses move through the streets of Montorgueil. And in the back of our courtyard is a design studio where clients, mostly Asian, come to attend fashion shows.

Well in the last few days a new person has shown up in Madame’s dress shop. It is a man with wild grayish black hair. Madame seems to always be explaining things to him. And sometimes they will gather round the dress model and have a heated discussion as they point at various parts of the model’s anatomy. Then the man leaves and Madame continues her work. We’ve decided that he is the designer.

Stay tuned for more episodes of “Secrets from the Courtyard.”

"pêcheurs de lune"

This past weekend was given over to the joys of browsing through flea markets. There was one in the 12^th along the rue Richard Lenoir that we went to on Saturday afternoon and then the famous Les Puces out at Clignancourt on Sunday. The weather was spectacular and we browsed happily through the interesting offerings. At one point we spied four plates for what we thought was 4.90 Euro only to learn that it was 490 Euro. There were

Paintings ...

...and Andy Warhol chairs

an old time Becassine

an accordian ...

and even an Elvis

In the end I found a lovely little silver chair to add to my chair collection.

We strolled down to Bastille and turned onto the rue St. Antoine. This neighborhood used to be its own village separate from Paris and it was where cabinet makers worked. Today, if you go down the side alleys, you can see the remnants of furniture makers plying their craft.

The guide books say, don’t worry about directions to Les Puces, just follow the crowd as it tumbles off the Metro at Pte. de Clignancourt. How true! After making our way through the outer section selling all manner of clothing, we found the warrens that house the historic flea market. My favorite part of the market was a little café nestled in the heart of it where a woman was singing Edith Piaf tunes to the Sunday afternoon patrons. But I did spy this little chair which I left living in Les Puces in the care of the "fishers of the moon."

Simple Meals

For an American who is used to backing her station wagon up to the supermarket and loading up for the week, there is a little readjustment that has to take place when you are planning even the simplest meal. We had a few friends over the other evening for a simple supper … artichokes … quiche (charcuterie made) … cheese … dessert … and of course bread. Seems simple enough, doesn’t it? Well let’s just start with the beverages. 4 bottles of Champagne, 3 bottles of red wine, and 6 bottles of water all have to be carried back and up the stairs. The artichokes seem simple, yes? Well when you consider that the marches des legumes in your neighborhood is closed on Monday, then you have to plan ahead. The cheese could be bought ahead of time, but I needed to have Hunter with me to translate. Even with the ready made quiche and dessert, there was always the question of what could be bought early and what had to wait until the night of.

Pleased to report that a good time was had by all … that we were all surprised when we discovered it was past midnight when we thought to look at our watches.

The next evening we stayed in, and I adjusted my favorite Vodka Penne recipe to go with the small amount of champagne we had in one of the bottles.

And I’m afraid I over bought the bread, so we have been having pain perdue each morning since. I discovered a long cloth bag in one of the drawers of the kitchen to store the baguettes in. And I also store the left over slices that have gone dry. Here they are soaking for this morning’s breakfast.

Champagne Penne

½ box of penne cooked
1 jar spaghetti sauce heated
3 Tablespoons left over champagne
¼ cup heavy cream

Drain the penne and put in a bowl. Toss with the Champagne and then add the cream. Let sit for 1 minute then add the heated sauce (I used a jar of Bolognese)

When the saints go marching in

I have serious pedigree as a Roman Catholic. So the religious iconography of Paris churches is something I enjoy. One thing I get a kick out of is visiting the side altars in churches and playing “Name that Saint.” St. Peter always has the keys, St. Theresa of Lisieux the flowers and so on, so it is fun moving around the churches of Paris building my repertoire of saints. One of the most useful saints of my adult life has been Saint Anthony. For those who do not know, St. Anthony is the patron saint of lost items. I half expect to come upon a statue of him one day carrying my grade book in one arm and my car keys in the other.

Well yesterday I stumbled on to a new saint. In fact, I stumbled upon a whole new church which is not hard to do in Paris. I was familiar with the church named after St. Germain-des-Pres but this new church I found is named St. Germain l’Auxerrois and was the church for the Louvre when it was still a royal palace. Inside was an altar dedicated to St. Charles Borommee.

Now on my scale of saints, this new saint is not very interesting. I like the sorts of saints where the question,”what can you do for me today, Mr./Ms. Saint?” is easily answered. But Charles, an Italian, lived in the 16^th century and was a real mover and shaker in the much needed Catholic Counter Reformation. So I add Charles to my litany of saints as an intellectual and a power broker. I may not need to call on him as much as I do St. Anthony, but it’s always good to let a new saint march into your life.

Vous avez vu la lune ?

We walked along the Seine twice today. We had only planned to do it once. After yesterday’s start-and-stop shopping rhythm, we were ready to stretch our legs. As we wended our way back to Montorgueil I spied a kitchen store … E. Dehillerin … But to call it a kitchen store is a bit understated.

I will let the pictures speak

Perhaps you would like a wisk?

or enough fish poachers to poach an ocean full of fish?

or a copper paella pan from which to serve 150 of your closest friends?

Then after a bit of a rest and some wrestling with our French cell phone (worthy of its own post) we headed off for a fashionable 9:00 pm dinner at a nearby restaurant. Again the regional focus was Perigord. My entrée salad was composed of mixed greens, walnuts, warm potatoes, grapes, bits of sausage and was topped with four thin slices of duck breast topped with duck liver. It was divine and went perfectly with my kir. The plat was a cassoulet Toulouse. We were tempted to try for a dessert since tarte tatin was on the menu and I have always wanted to try one, but decided since it was in the neighborhood we could come back any time. Also I had read somewhere that one must order a tarte tatin when ordering the meal … as you would do for a grand marnier souffle ... and that if the menu does not so indicate, you will only receive a pale imitation.

When we went out the door, I looked in the sky and saw that the promised lunar eclipse had already begun. We thought of the diners behind us missing out on this not to be repeated until 2025 event, and decided to stick our heads back in the restaurant.

“Vous avez vu la lune?,” Hunter asked the owners, and out onto the little street tumbled half of the restaurant’s patrons to look up into the Paris night. We decided to walk off our dinner by going back down to the river to take in the moon under an open sky. We were on the Pont au Change from which we could see the towers of Notre Dame, Chatelet, and the Eiffel Tower. The Bateaux Mouches made their way up the river below us. And ever so slowly the moon slid under its cover. It was amazing how few people took it in. There was one romantic fellow who called his girl on a cell phone. But mostly people were busy about their Saturday nights with few cares about the disappearing moon.

And so ended another magical day in the City of Lights.