Got up and went to the small cafe next to us (again), called the Parisian. Chet had a ham and cheese omelet, which was very good, and Lynne had the usual cafe creme with a croissant (absolutely wonderful, fresh and flaky with a crisp outer layer).
Next we stopped at a small shop which sells Italian foods, and were able to by some bottarga, along with some homemade fig and other jams which we couldn't resist. The lady was the shop owner's mother, who lives in Corsica and makes the jams herself. Her son, who was in Corsica visiting, established the shop 15 years ago after a successful career in finance. Much to his father's and his grandfather's dismay, he gave up the career just as it was taking off in order to open the little shop, modeled after his aunt's in Corsica. His grandfather refused to ask after him for a good six months afterward! ("We didn't send him to university in Paris so he could open a sausage shop!"). But, fifteen years later and after reports home about how nice the shop was, everyone's just pleased that he's happy. Lynne got the story while Chet was off at the ATM getting some cash to pay for our purchases, as the "machine diabolique" was not cooperating.
Laden with our packages, we then went around the corner to Chet's favorite (so far) viennoiserie (patisserie only fancier!) to get some tasty treats to snack on. And finally we were off to Ile de la Cite, the Conciergerie (where they imprisoned Marie Antoinette, Robespierre and Danton before carting them in the tumbrils to Place de la Concorde and beheading them), the crypt underneath Notre Dame, and St Chappelle, which is famous for its windows.
The Conciergerie was very interesting, given its history. It's remains right within the Palais de Justice compound, and serves as a reminder of where justice used to lead. We saw the chapel that now replaces Marie Antoinette's cell, and a listing of every individual executed during the French Revolution (a new historical event of interest to Chet). Surprisingly, they weren't all nobles and such - many were what one might call regular people: bakers, butchers, members of what we would term the middle class today. A reminder that history can overtake you, irrespective of your role in life.
Another interesting fact: Paris, the city, was originally just the Ile de la Cite. Back when it was called Lutece by the Romans, it was an island city. So, some of the most interesting Roman ruins and remains of the original city are to be found in the crypt underneath Notre Dame. It was fascinating to see remanants of the original Roman houses (complete with central heating systems!) and the original children's hospital that was built during the middle ages. And really made us ponder how differently the French and the Italians guard their cultural treasures. These were accessible via little bridges overlooking the ruins, but you couldn't actually get to the ruins themselves.
St Chappelle is best known for its windows in the upstairs chapel. One of the things that makes this church unique is its lay-out: it's built on two stories and the poor were meant to worship below. Which was nice enough, but nothing like the upstairs chapel, where the nobles and the rich got to say their prayers and receive absolution. Upstairs was lined with magnificent stained glass windows reaching up to a high ceiling. Unfortunately, the main alter window had been removed for restoration and cleaning while we were there, so we'll have to go back to see it in full splendor!
On the way back to the hotel, we went to the Monoprix (local supermarket) and bought some nice French chocolates to bring home. Lynne's managed to get Chet hooked on French chocolate of the down-market (as in everyday) sort.
After a short rest at the hotel, Chet wanted to go back out to a cheese shop (fromagerie) that we'd passed the day before. To get fixings for a nice picnic (if it ever stopped raining!). So, up Rue Grenelle and across Boulevard Raspail and we were at Bartholemy, fromagiers extraordinaire, where the smell of artisanal cheeses wafts out the door in a most provocative way. We went in and were immediately surrounded by four cheese-ologists (fromagiers, says Lynne), all wearing white doctors' coats. We could tell this was a serious business we were about to undertake. Lynne did all the talking and the first question asked by the gentleman helping us was "these cheeses are for eating when?". We both thought this was great because it proved that cheese is a scientific matter here in France. In all, we got four types of cheese: a half round of a wonderful camembert, a chevre (goat) that was nice and melty in the middle, a roquefort, and a cheese covered with grape must and hazlenuts. All four emit powerful cheese smells, kind of like a sock you've worn for a full week in a hot climate. Yucky in socks, but delectable in cheeses. Then Chet made his most serious faux pas in France: he asked if there were any cheeses with mushrooms (champignons) in them. The little fromagier drew himself up to his full (not very considerable) height, frowned in a displeased way, and said (pointing out the door), "if you want mushrooms, you can find them at the epicerie down the street; here, we sell cheese!" Appropriately abashed, we completed and paid for our purchases and went on our way.
And finally, on to a late dinner at the Royal Luxembourg, a restaurant that supposedly specialised in the southwestern cuisine located near the Jardins du Luxembourg. There we shared another excellent salad, enjoyed an excellent confit de canard (duck), and great bread. And a proper tarte tatin for dessert (the one we had in Provence was nice enough, but the apples weren't really caramelized enough for a real tarte tatin).
Next we stopped at a small shop which sells Italian foods, and were able to by some bottarga, along with some homemade fig and other jams which we couldn't resist. The lady was the shop owner's mother, who lives in Corsica and makes the jams herself. Her son, who was in Corsica visiting, established the shop 15 years ago after a successful career in finance. Much to his father's and his grandfather's dismay, he gave up the career just as it was taking off in order to open the little shop, modeled after his aunt's in Corsica. His grandfather refused to ask after him for a good six months afterward! ("We didn't send him to university in Paris so he could open a sausage shop!"). But, fifteen years later and after reports home about how nice the shop was, everyone's just pleased that he's happy. Lynne got the story while Chet was off at the ATM getting some cash to pay for our purchases, as the "machine diabolique" was not cooperating.
Laden with our packages, we then went around the corner to Chet's favorite (so far) viennoiserie (patisserie only fancier!) to get some tasty treats to snack on. And finally we were off to Ile de la Cite, the Conciergerie (where they imprisoned Marie Antoinette, Robespierre and Danton before carting them in the tumbrils to Place de la Concorde and beheading them), the crypt underneath Notre Dame, and St Chappelle, which is famous for its windows.
The Conciergerie was very interesting, given its history. It's remains right within the Palais de Justice compound, and serves as a reminder of where justice used to lead. We saw the chapel that now replaces Marie Antoinette's cell, and a listing of every individual executed during the French Revolution (a new historical event of interest to Chet). Surprisingly, they weren't all nobles and such - many were what one might call regular people: bakers, butchers, members of what we would term the middle class today. A reminder that history can overtake you, irrespective of your role in life.
Another interesting fact: Paris, the city, was originally just the Ile de la Cite. Back when it was called Lutece by the Romans, it was an island city. So, some of the most interesting Roman ruins and remains of the original city are to be found in the crypt underneath Notre Dame. It was fascinating to see remanants of the original Roman houses (complete with central heating systems!) and the original children's hospital that was built during the middle ages. And really made us ponder how differently the French and the Italians guard their cultural treasures. These were accessible via little bridges overlooking the ruins, but you couldn't actually get to the ruins themselves.
St Chappelle is best known for its windows in the upstairs chapel. One of the things that makes this church unique is its lay-out: it's built on two stories and the poor were meant to worship below. Which was nice enough, but nothing like the upstairs chapel, where the nobles and the rich got to say their prayers and receive absolution. Upstairs was lined with magnificent stained glass windows reaching up to a high ceiling. Unfortunately, the main alter window had been removed for restoration and cleaning while we were there, so we'll have to go back to see it in full splendor!
On the way back to the hotel, we went to the Monoprix (local supermarket) and bought some nice French chocolates to bring home. Lynne's managed to get Chet hooked on French chocolate of the down-market (as in everyday) sort.
After a short rest at the hotel, Chet wanted to go back out to a cheese shop (fromagerie) that we'd passed the day before. To get fixings for a nice picnic (if it ever stopped raining!). So, up Rue Grenelle and across Boulevard Raspail and we were at Bartholemy, fromagiers extraordinaire, where the smell of artisanal cheeses wafts out the door in a most provocative way. We went in and were immediately surrounded by four cheese-ologists (fromagiers, says Lynne), all wearing white doctors' coats. We could tell this was a serious business we were about to undertake. Lynne did all the talking and the first question asked by the gentleman helping us was "these cheeses are for eating when?". We both thought this was great because it proved that cheese is a scientific matter here in France. In all, we got four types of cheese: a half round of a wonderful camembert, a chevre (goat) that was nice and melty in the middle, a roquefort, and a cheese covered with grape must and hazlenuts. All four emit powerful cheese smells, kind of like a sock you've worn for a full week in a hot climate. Yucky in socks, but delectable in cheeses. Then Chet made his most serious faux pas in France: he asked if there were any cheeses with mushrooms (champignons) in them. The little fromagier drew himself up to his full (not very considerable) height, frowned in a displeased way, and said (pointing out the door), "if you want mushrooms, you can find them at the epicerie down the street; here, we sell cheese!" Appropriately abashed, we completed and paid for our purchases and went on our way.
And finally, on to a late dinner at the Royal Luxembourg, a restaurant that supposedly specialised in the southwestern cuisine located near the Jardins du Luxembourg. There we shared another excellent salad, enjoyed an excellent confit de canard (duck), and great bread. And a proper tarte tatin for dessert (the one we had in Provence was nice enough, but the apples weren't really caramelized enough for a real tarte tatin).
No comments:
Post a Comment