Sunday, October 6, 2002

    Marie forgot to make us our Sunday lunch reservation. We have been wanting to have a nice traditional family style elaborate Sunday lunch all vacation. But we've always been too late in making a reservation. This was our big chance! Marie made several phone calls without success. While we fiddled around, B and Mark stepped out on the balcony to have a smoke. Mark told B his voice was too low to ever get the right French intonation. Quel dommage! Marie worries that when her second grandbaby arrives, Lucy will feel neglected. We seem to have become family already.
    Our day's excursion was to be a walking tour of the Marais district across the river. Since I now had the responsibility of planning meals, we looked over the red guide and picked two places near the Place Bastille, which was near the beginning of our tour. Our main objective was Boffinger's, on the Rue Bastille. We found Place Bastille easily enough, and enjoyed the sight of its grand monument. And we had walked along the Boulevard Bastille to get there. But we could not see Bofinger's. Then it hit me that there must, although our map did not show it, another, different RUE Bastille, in addition to the larger BOULEVARD Bastille. and that the Rue probably radiated off the Place. Sure enough, with a bit of looking in the crowded little neighborhood on the west of the Place, we found it! And, Bofinger's and our other choice were right across the street from each other. As Bofinger's looked larger, we thought we had a better chance of getting a table without a reservation. and we did—seated at 12:30, finished by. . .3:30!
    It was a big place, with a crazy and cozy mixture of Art Nouveau and Art Deco decorations, and a huge stained glass (Tiffany?) skylight over the wide spiral staircase. It was very busy for lunch, packed with French families and American tourists. This was what we'd been looking for. The people next to us ordered a huge plate of sauerkraut and sausages, which seemed odd for a French restaurant. (Later that night, Marie Francois told me it was choucrote, an Alsatian specialty that is only available in the fall. I want some of that!)
    I ordered a Kir champagne aperitif; escargot; chateaubriand with haricot vert, pommes frites and a delicious peeled cooked tomato; and creme brulé. That was fantastic, obviously the real thing: a big bowl of custard with the thinnest possible caramelized crust. B had a fixed menu of oysters, duck, chocolate mousse cake and some of everything of mine. We had house wine. It was a wonderful experience, warm and scented, with conversation all around, children and parents, friends meeting. At one point, B gave our waiter a moment's apprehension. B caught his eye, and when he hurried over, he began to apologize, our food would be here soon. "Non, lentement," said B, meaning take your time. "Mais, un pot d'eau, s'il vous plait." All we wanted was a carafe of water! Now our waiter was all smiles, reassured that we weren't impatient Americans, just ones whose French was abominable.
    By the time we finished, I was exhausted! I felt that I had to have a power nap, four hours would have done. It was raining as we left the restaurant, but although the rain was just a passing shower, the skies weren't promising. A long tour of the Marais was out of the question, but B was whipping kachina and wouldn't give in. He agreed to take a detour to Notre Dame as consolation for missing the Marais. That would give me a chance to do some trinket shopping for staff day, too, before my nap. After stopping in a shop to buy a bottle of water, and being shell shocked by 20 plus souvenir seeking Asian teenage girls while getting it, I revived enough to enjoy Notre Dame. An organ concert was in progress and at its conclusion people applauded loud and long. We agreed it had been pretty terrible. B said, "E. Power Biggs that was not." The towers were closed, but the interior was sufficient.
    By the time we finished in Notre dame, the skies were clear as a bell and I was feeling much better. So we went to the Marais after all! This district is notable for its grand old architecture and gardens. We noted that the relief of a "winemaker" on the corner of a building was really a knife grinder enjoying a glass of wine. A young man was shooing people out of a park whose gates he was closing. This was B's favorite place to see on this walk, because he liked the "bits and pieces" set into the wall at the back of the little park.
    We went through the ancient village of St. Paul, with shops and little winding lanes and arcades, and met an overly friendly dog. Across from St. Paul is another bit of Phillipe A's wall and just past that the Rue Pavé, Paris' first paved (with cobblestones) street. We saw an art nouveau synagogue and many other fine facades, palaces and gardens. Our tour ended at the Place des Vosges, a square enclosed by old arcades. That reminded us of Jackson Square in New Orleans.
    We hiked back to our neighborhood for a light supper at L'Ecureuil, L'Oie est Le Canard, a brasserie recommended by Marie. Its name means The Squirrel, The Goose and The Duck. We saw a goose and squirrel painted on the window, and wondered aloud where the duck was. The young manager, sitting behind the bar, said that he was the duck! As we were being seated, B noticed that each table had a label on the wall behind it. Ours was "advocates," lawyers. He made a joke, saying. "We're lawyers," just meaning that that was our label for the night. Our server thought he meant we really were lawyers, and was laughing at the coincidence. We had to disabuse him, but he still got a kick out of it.
    I had a salad of lettuce and tomato, B had anchovies from Collioure! He loved them. After supper I ordered coffee, and discussed the possible kinds with our server. I told her "Je suis une café connoisseur." B and I laughed when he said, "I think you just told her that you're a knowledgeable coffee."
    When we got home, I asked Marie Francois about the sauerkraut dish. She told us all about chocroute. I want some even more.

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