Paris 20 June 2016

R & M’s 34^th Wedding Anniversary

Miserable weather, leading Parisians (and others) to wonder if this is the beginning of another "Year without a summer," like the Little Ice Age of 1816. Temperatures aren't unseasonable, but water falling from the sky dat after day is unprecedented.

Luckily, we have nothing planned for the day, and can sit comfortably in our little apartment and watch umbrellas bumble across the plaza below.

Nothing planned, that is, except lunch in one of Paris's renowned "famous chef" eateries, the Régalade, where chef Bruno Doucet works his magic.

Food tourism isn't a new phenomenon in Paris, but it is becoming predominant (which is funny, since Paris is not the acknowledged capitol of French food; Lyons is.) Of the 15 occupied tables – yes, there was room for you – at least seven are occupied by non-francophones trying desperately to figure out the elaborate and nuanced menu.

As soon as we were seated, our server brought us a beautiful pork terrine, a Doucet trademark, a basket of bread, and a bucket of cornichons -- enough for a party of 12. While decoding the menu, we requested a nice little bottle of white wine and had a good time spreading the delicious terrine on the excellent bread while downing cornichons and sipping wine ...being very careful not to consume too much, knowing that something special was coming.

Our helpful server guided us through the choices, and later we heard her giving even more exhaustive help to other anglophones. The Asian couple beside us desperately consulted their smart phones for guidance.

I have never understood the misuse of the word "entree" in the US, but here, it's the first course, usually something small and tasty to get your mouth warmed up. Mine was a fish and avocado carpaccio; Rochelle's was shrimp risotto with squid ink and sliced toasted garlic. "This restores my faith in Parisian cuisine," commented Rochelle. Everything was magnificently, delicately, sensitively seasoned and beautifully presented.

Dessert is, or course, a requirement; otherwise, you have not given the chef and his crew the honor they deserve. Rochelle had a perfect, practically insubstantial, Grand Marnier soufflé. I had another Baba in a delicately rum flavored sauce that didn't overwhelm ...and the lightest vanilla flavored chantilly ever.

In a proper restaurant like this one, you make your dessert choice at the beginning of the meal, because in some cases the preparation will take some serious time (like Rochelle's soufflé). Usually, this would give us pause (and we would probably not have dessert) but we have come to trust that our meals here will be sufficient, but never too big. 

Even with something as rich as the pork belly, I'm not feeling stuffed (but I am glad I don't have to do much more today...)

And then, of course, petits cafés, in this case finest Ethiopian, with the requisite cookies (Madeleines) and sugar cubes. What an amazing meal.

We'll go out later, assuming the rain lets up a little, to find salad fixings for our dinner ...although thinking about any food other than that extraordinary déjeuner, is more than I can do.

This is likely the last you'll hear from us today.