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"Paris Report #4: Pastries and then Pastries" posted July 8, 2005 at 01:38 PM

Tuesday, June 7
One of the great things that happened in Bilbao is that as I told various people that I was going back to Paris for five days they inevitably gave me great recommendations for sites, restaurants, etc. The best of these was John Silberman's insistence that the very best pastries were to be had at Pierre Hermé. Oh indeed they were! The macarons were the main attraction, so that's what Carter had, but I had a lemon tart, and let me tell you these are the lemon tarts they serve in Heaven.

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This first afternoon back in Paris was thrilling, just for the sheer indulgence of knowing I had five more days in gay Paree. Pierre Hermé is right in the heart of the shopping district of the 7th arrondissement, so shoe shopping, underwear shopping, and pastry shopping were the name of the game this afternoon. I bought a very cool pair of Spanish sneakers at terrific little shop called Marcel Lassance. And Carter bought a very red, very gay scarf at Agnes B. I wish I had a picture of how great he looks in it.

From there we buzzed over to the Virgin Megastore on the Champs Elysée. My headphones had broken on the plane to Bilbao so I needed to replace them. I also wanted to search for DVDs of French films that have not yet been released in the States but which are available in Europe. Alas, while I found a number of titles I wanted, not one of them had any subtitle options built in, so I bought the headphones and left the movies behind.

I bought some chocolate on our walk through the 8th, and we stopped into the Galerie de la Scala, where Carter is friendly with the two lovely women who run the joint. We enjoyed a glass of champagne at the nearby Cafe Mogador (Hey, we've got a Cafe Mogador right here on St. Mark's Place too!). We attempted to see St. Philippe-du-Roule, but it closed as we'd drunk our bubbly.

Two of Carter's friends, Gabriel and Antoine, had invited us to dinner. They live in the 9th, in a wonderful old building with a fine garden and courtyard. Their friend Genaro also joined us. Although the evening was almost entirely in French, and I understood quite little of the conversation, I always enjoy visiting people's homes in foreign cities--it truly helps to gain an understanding of life there. Their apartment was filled with art books and art itself (they're both dealers). For dinner, Antoine served white asparagus with homemade mayonnaise, then pork in a cream sauce over rice. Cookies--including Pierre Hermé macarons we had brought--and coffee wrapped up our lovely evening.

Wednesday, June 8
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We had lunch reservations at Le Jules Verne--the restaurant on the second level up in the Eiffel Tower. We decided to see a few small museums beforehand in the area around the Trocadero, though we failed at every turn: two were closed for renovations, one was moving, and one was having "technical problems" and had locked the doors. So instead we explored the streets around the Trocadero. We saw this wonderful house and thought, "Gee, that would be a nice place to live!"

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I loved the 1930s buildings that had been built for a World's Fair. We saw a film being shot and watched them reshoot one scene over and over for a while. We sat by the fountains, then strolled the Seine, then arrived just in time for our 1pm lunch.

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Le Jules Verne has its own elevator up to the second level of the Eiffel Tower--123 meters above Paris. It's totally done up in black, though I myself wore tan. We were given a tuna terrine as we drank a glass of champagne, then we both started with a medallion of duck foie gras, wrapped in a layer of duck confit. It was excellent, served with an apple jelly of some sort. Carter was bored by his main dish (chicken), but I quite liked mine--veal knuckles (rich dark meat arranged in a cylinder) with over-sized potato-spinach gnocchis. We drank a medium-bodied, simple Cote-du-Rhone, which was excellent. For dessert Carter again struck out with a chocolate macaroon that could have been made by any old French factory on this side of the Atlantic, but I again struck gold with raspberries floating in a cold lychee soup. The service was rushed throughout the meal, which I almost could forgive if the place had been as busy as it is hyped to be. But it was half-empty and to rush us felt like a slap to our being American. I enjoyed the meal, but I enjoyed it about half as much as it cost ($150 each).... The views, of course, were priceless.

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From there, we did finally make it to a couple of museums. The Musée Guimet, the national museum of Asian art, was first. While neither of us are so deep into this material, we were delighted by the lovely setup and design of the museum (except for some ill-advised high-tech 3-D hologram projections which were just awful). Then we went to the Musée Jacquemart-André--an absolute jewel of a private collection, housed in the house it was collected in. I was thrilled by many of the paintings, but the ceiling in the little musée Italien within the upstairs was really a highlight, as was a Mantegna triptych of saints in the same room.

I was feeling a bit ill (a cold coming on?), so we sat in a shady cafe--Pomze--and sipped sparkling water. This place specializes in apples--serving ciders, apple butters, and calvados. The proprietress--actually she's the proprietor's mother--was a charming, friendly woman who excitedly discussed New York with me after asking where I was from. I bought Paula some apple butter and calvados and took a look at their lovely upstairs dining room.

Carter went on to some gallery openings, but as I was illin' I headed home for a nap. Later, when Carter returned, we decided to stay local for once and eat dinner at this little place around the corner from the apartment. The restaurant--L'Allouette--turned out to be terrific. We asked our friendly, overworked waiter for a bottle of chinon, but he insisted that the Corbieres was better, so we had that. It was delicious indeed and we ended up drinking two bottles of it. I started with foie gras and so did Carter--but they were huge and one would have been enough. Then Carter had duck confit and I had a steak au poivre. It was flavorful and bloody and served with thinly sliced, heavily garlicked potatoes. Of course we had cheese afterward, then coffee.

Thursday, June 9
Thursday began with a shopping trip to the Centre Pompidou, where I bought two PAL VHS videotapes--which having no TV, no VCR, and no European-format video anything, I cannot play. But one tape contains Marguerite Duras's amazingly great film India Song, and the other holds her short films Aurelia Steiner (Vancouver), Aurelia Steiner (Melbourne), Les Main Negatives, and Cesarée. These little art films will never see a US release, so I am going to attempt to have these tapes digitized and burned to DVD. That'll be my summer project.

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We went to the Marais next, to shop for jeans at L'Eclaireur, but they didn't have my size. We strolled the streets, then walked toward Place des Vosges, Paris's oldest and most gorgeous public square. It's all symmetry and structure, with stately balconies on the surrounding buildings, and a park in the middle filled with gorgeous Parisians. We found lunch at a small place in the Marais, where I ate my first in-Paris coq au vin. It wasn't so great, but it was followed by cheese!

Carter and I split up--he was off to pick up some art and books from friends, and I was off to the 7th to shop for presents. I bought myself some hankies at Bon Marche, and then treated myself to more pastries from Pierre Hermé (John Silberman, my hero!). Then I stopped at Mariage Freres to buy fancy teas. After we met back up at home to change, Carter and I headed back to the Marais to meet his friends Michel and Michel for drinks. They were extremely nice men, and I enjoyed meeting them and drinking Kirs with them.

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We had an 8:30 curtain at the Comedie Francaise. At 8:20 I was told to stop taking pictures of the turn-of-the-century theater. We had amazing seats in the center of the balcony's first row--thought it's a tiny theater with virtually no bad seats anyway. The production was Robert Wilson's take on La Fontaine's Fables. Although it was in French and I didn't understand many of the short scenes, I was enthralled by the odd combination of Wilson's contemporary, mannered aesthetic and these very classical, old-fashioned, mannered French actors. Carter and I were especially taken with the woman who played La Fontaine, and with the man who played a fox.

One of the Michels had kindly made a dinner reservation for Carter and me at a small British-owned place nearby called Maceo right on the border of the 1st & 2nd. We had here--in a formal maitre'd, a delicious blond sommelier, and a helpful cheerful waiter--the best service of this trip. We enjoyed glasses of Jacquesson champagne, which had remarkably tiny bubbles. We both started with rabbit served with foie gras, then I had a cut of veal served with veal kidneys (My first kidneys! Loved them!). We enjoyed a great bottle of wine--a blend of three different grapes that was dark and big and very dry, and it was poured into a simple, beautiful decanter for us. For dessert we had--quick, guess before I tell you!--cheese. It was a heavenly meal, and I must remember to recommend this one to friends.

We went to Cafe Ruc, right by the Louvre, for a cognac after dinner. We laughed at tourists trying to hail cabs with fares in them, and groaned when we saw the long line of people waiting at the taxi queue. So we started walking toward a less busy area and did successfully hail a cab on the street ourselves.

Friday, June 10
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We moved! My friend Jennifer was arriving from London this day and we needed more space and had booked a hotel earlier that week. After packing a bit in the morning we headed to Val de Grace. From the outside it was magnificent--Roman and balanced under a huge dome. It is closed on Fridays, however, so that's another item for the "when I come back" trip. We zigzagged over to Rue Mouffetard, a winding, narrow street with outdoor markets at one end, bars and restaurants at the other, and every kind of nice or tacky little store between. Guidebook says it's 13th century, but I thought it looked more like 20th century Haight Asbury.

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Next stop in the Latin Quarter was St. Severin. It's a very old church, and it's atmosphere is very dark. It had some amazing, detailed stained-glass windows, but it also had some horribly ugly modern stained-glass windows at the back behind the altar. On the outside, we were haunted by the church's rather eery gargoyles. We also took in another church, St. Germain-des-Pres, on our way to lunch.

The highlight of the day, however, came not in a church, but in a brasserie--Brasserie Lipp to be precise. Guidebooks warn tourists away from this place because you won't be treated as well as the local rich and famous. We were treated fabulously, however, as we ourselves were with the local rich and famous, namely Louis-Antoine and Véronique Prat, art collectors Carter knows. He is a scholar, novelist, and curator (catalogue raisonée of David's drawings, etc.), and she is a high-powered journalist, Barbara Walters style, at the Sunday magazine of Le Figaro. They were fabulous people. Louis-Antoine was bubbly, jolly, and yet very serious. Happy and down to earth, it's clear he enjoys his work immensely and takes a great interest in everything around him. Véronique was a bit more reserved, though her eyes had a fun way of lighting up when she got excited. And she looked so very French in her vintage Chanel. But let's cut to the chase: JEAN-PAUL BELMONDO WAS SITTING AT THE NEXT TABLE! He was with a handsome younger man, and he himself looked great--distinguished, very old, and "formerly gorgeous" gorgeous. (Plenty of people Stateside I've told about this ultimate celebrity-sighting have looked at me blankly, not knowing who he is, but seeing him there left me breathless, if you'll forgive the pun). We had prosciutto and melon to start, then sauerkraut and sausages, then--oh yeah, baby!--cheese. As we headed off to pack and move from the 13th to the 12th, Louis-Antoine and Véronique headed off to Bon Marche for le Shopping.

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After we cleaned up the apartment, got a cab, and checked into our new hotel in the Bastille, Carter ran off to FedEx and I walked around the hood to buy wine, coffee, bread, and cherries. I stopped for a coffee and daydreamed a while. I was half-way through the first bottle of wine when Carter cam home. We ate and drank and talked as we awaited Jennifer's arrival from London. She got in about 10pm, refreshed herself, then we all headed out for a late dinner.

Jennifer suggested a place in the Bastille called Chez Paul. It was a very old-fashioned, casual, lively place. The host and waiters were gruff and rushed and still friendly. Again I started with foie gras, then had a grilled cut of veal that was tender and delicious in a roquefort sauce. With the dinner wine, on top of the wine at home, I was already a bit toasted when we headed out to small cocktail bar up the street for a nightcap. I had an armagnac and practically passed out when I finally hit the pillow.

Saturday, June 11
Another sunny morning! Carter went off on his own, as Jennifer and I set out for pastries and coffee, then off to Pere Lachaise cemetery.

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The cemetery is beautiful, laid out like a formal garden, and it is the final resting place to many important (or simply famous) people. We did a bit of grave hunting, but enjoyed more just strolling and reading the tombstones and admiring the ancient monuments. We did visit Rossini, Chopin, Jim Morrison, and my favorite--Gertrude Stein & Alice B. Toklas.

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From there we took the train to the 7th, where Jennifer wanted to shop at APC, and where I wanted to hit Christian Constant, a chocolate shop. It turned out to be too fancy for my working-class end-of-the-trip budget ($75 for a tiny box of eight chocolates!). So we sat at a small cafe near the entrance to the Luxembourg Gardens and sat outside eating Croq Monsieurs and drinking Pellegrino. It was lovely. Afterward we strolled into the park and were amazed by the beauty of itself and its inhabitants.

When we emerged, we rolled through the Latin Quarter up to St. Michel, and back to the Isle St. Louis for Berthillon ice cream (again I had chocolate and carmel). I also headed back to that little block filled with stationery stores to buy Laura some colorful notecards.

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Next stop was the Place des Vosges, where we sat on the lawn with about 1500 perfect Parisian teenagers. On a side street off the Place, we shopped at a little jewelry store where Jennifer bought a bracelet for herself and I bought a bracelet for Marijane. We sat in the sunlight at a cafe next to the store and sipped champagne and ate olives as we watched the parade of lovely locals coming and going.

Jennifer headed back to the hotel, but I had more shopping to do! After buying more chocolates on the rue de Vieille du Temple, I stopped at a fromagerie then a boulangerie then a wine shop and headed home for more wine and cheese. Carter had bought a bottle of champagne so we drank that too!

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We dressed for dinner, then the three of us headed out to the 8th for dinner at La Fermette Marbeuf. This beautiful Art Nouveau restaurant was a Penny suggestion. They did not, unfortunately, seat us in the largest dining room with the glass dome, but we sat in a smaller room with tiled peacocks and ornate Nouveau decor around the bar. The service was organized and clean. The food was good, if a bit overpriced for what it was, but that's what I had more or less expected. I had delicious escargot (and I didn't forget a snail!) served in a warm puff pastry. I had steak with bernaise sauce, which was tasty (if a bit chewy). For dessert, they seemed incapable of making the simplest staple: creme brulée. The first one they brought me was ruined, as the cream had separated and it was a disgusting runny watery mess under the top crust. They apologized and brought another, which was acceptable, bit it did not taste so great--too eggy, too cold, too firm, and uneven in consistency. Merde! Carter and Jennifer both had a fabulous dessert--crepes with Gran Marnier which was prepared, cooked, and flambéed right at the table. It was quite a performance, and the crepes tasted great.

On the Champs Elysée we caught a cab back to the Bastille where we trolled the hyper-trendy streets, found a place, again drank armagnac, and then walked ourselves home.

Sunday, June 12
This last morning we slept in until 10:30, a result of the copious amounts of booze consumed the night before, no doubt. We breakfasted in the hood, then sent Jennifer off to the Metro to get her train back to London. Au revoir. Carter and I had a few hours, so we went back to the Place des Vosges for more lying in the grass and people-watching. All through the morning's activities I ate buttered baguettes, a chocolate eclair, a pain au chocolate, another eclair, and a brioche. If there's one thing I miss about Paris it is the bread!

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Like all good things, as they say, this trip came to an end. And it ended with one of those typical, annoying sequence of travel events: American whiskey on the plane, then a headache, then a missed connection in London Heathrow, then being redirected from Newark to JFK. It was midnight on the East Coast and I was at JFK, my car was waiting for me at Newark, and my suitcase was in London. Merde! But even these annoyances could not dim my spirit. I had the perfect vacation, and I held the glow for a good long time as I got re-acquainted with the New York rat race. And yes, I've been buying lots of fancy cheeses since I've been back. This could be the beginning of a bad habit!


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