Sunday, September 07, 2003
A BAGUETTE WORTH CROSSING OVER TO THE RIGHT BANK FOR
After a morning stroll through the Marais and then to Place des Vosgnes I retraced my steps in search of the bakery where I had bought last weekend's divine baguette. It didn't take much retracing; Maison Yhuel at 29 rue Saint Antoine. Although not a very French-sounding name for a bakery it's best to judge by its' bread. Today the queue was long but at least it didn't snake out the door onto the sidewalk as it did last weekend. I bought a demi-baguette only to reassure myself my memory of how good it had been wasn't deceiving me. It wasn't warm out of the oven like last Sunday morning but it was damn good and I'd still cross over to the right bank on a Saturday or Sunday to buy it. Earlier in the week I had bought a demi-baguette from Paul bakery but it couldn't match this one from Maison Yhuel.
After that I ended up wandering into the fromager, P. Trotte, just further up the road almost next to Eglise St. Paul. Pelardon, an AOC cheese from Languedoc Roussillon, was recommended to me when I asked for a chevre. It was wonderfully soft the way I like goat cheese but I would have preferred something a bit stronger. But then I would have been happier with more Camembert except I've decided to wean myself off of a good thing as there are probably over 400 French cheeses I've yet to taste. General de Gaulle is reputed to have asked how could he be expected to rule a country with so many cheeses. No idea but how and when am I going to get through sampling all of them?
After a morning stroll through the Marais and then to Place des Vosgnes I retraced my steps in search of the bakery where I had bought last weekend's divine baguette. It didn't take much retracing; Maison Yhuel at 29 rue Saint Antoine. Although not a very French-sounding name for a bakery it's best to judge by its' bread. Today the queue was long but at least it didn't snake out the door onto the sidewalk as it did last weekend. I bought a demi-baguette only to reassure myself my memory of how good it had been wasn't deceiving me. It wasn't warm out of the oven like last Sunday morning but it was damn good and I'd still cross over to the right bank on a Saturday or Sunday to buy it. Earlier in the week I had bought a demi-baguette from Paul bakery but it couldn't match this one from Maison Yhuel.
After that I ended up wandering into the fromager, P. Trotte, just further up the road almost next to Eglise St. Paul. Pelardon, an AOC cheese from Languedoc Roussillon, was recommended to me when I asked for a chevre. It was wonderfully soft the way I like goat cheese but I would have preferred something a bit stronger. But then I would have been happier with more Camembert except I've decided to wean myself off of a good thing as there are probably over 400 French cheeses I've yet to taste. General de Gaulle is reputed to have asked how could he be expected to rule a country with so many cheeses. No idea but how and when am I going to get through sampling all of them?
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
RANDOM THOUGHTS
I couldn't remember my phone number back in TO to exchange with some of my classmates at the end of the August session last week. This is a sign I've either been in Paris too long or I've been here too long to go back. They may have to send me out of here kicking and screaming that I don't want to go back home!
I couldn't remember my phone number back in TO to exchange with some of my classmates at the end of the August session last week. This is a sign I've either been in Paris too long or I've been here too long to go back. They may have to send me out of here kicking and screaming that I don't want to go back home!
Tuesday, September 02, 2003
AN ENCOUNTER OF THE ODDEST KIND ON THE CHAMPS-ELYSEE
The oddest thing happened while I was walking on the Champs-Elysee yesterday afternoon. I wasn’t paying much attention to the usual throng of tourists as I was focusing my efforts on finding the Air France ticket office. Seemingly out of nowhere a young man in his mid-twenties stopped me and asked if I spoke Mandarin. I told him I could speak a bit. Then he asked, “ni keyi gao wo bang mang, ma?” Bear in mind I haven’t used my Mandarin in awhile, but what I thought I had heard was, “would you bang me?” Then I quickly realized he was still speaking Mandarin and only asking if I could help him.
This stranger wanted me to buy him two Louis Vuitton wallets so I asked the next logical question which was why he couldn’t buy them himself. He explained he had already bought two so LV was now refusing to let him buy any more until next week. It figured that in France, the only democratic country with a communist party, one would find a luxury goods maker with a leftist sales policy. I’m not sure why I agreed to help this virtual stranger with something as inconsequential as this but the next thing I know he was handing me 700 euros. Of course, I discreetly checked that the bills were real as he explained the style and colour he wanted.
Forget about passing judgement on his poor taste for wanting a wallet emblazoned with that awful LV insignia, or for paying hundreds of euros for plasticized leather, but I couldn’t help think there was something wrong with this scenario. What he had given me was nearly half a month’s rent money in Paris, but regardless, it was a small sum of money. I would have expected it to be to a man from Guanxi, China too. When I last travelled in '98 to China on business our local agent was earning a salary of US 150-200 per month. Granted that was five years ago but how much could salaries have gone up since then?
It was quite an eye-opener inside the LV store. I've shopped the odd time in Prada but even during the height of Prada madness I don't remember line-ups like the ones before me. There were at least 12 people in the queue and the queue would be the only way to get to those wallets. As much as I would have liked to help my "friend" I had to get to the Air France office and then back home to my studies.
I went back out and explained I would not be able to help him at which time he told me I should have gone downstairs where there would be fewer people and no line-ups. He obviously caught me on a good day because like a fool I agreed to try again but now through a different entrance to the lower part of the boutique. He was right: there were fewer people but there were still half a dozen eager buyers in line! Even with this improvement I couldn't be his Good Samaritan. I went back out and returned his money along with my apologies.
I continued along my route toward the Arc de Triomphe. Just at the Arc some minutes later now well past the LV boutique another Chinese man stopped me asking if I spoke Mandarin. I was starting to think this was a tape that had been rewound. I answered as I did just minutes earlier on the other side of the boulevard. Then this young man asked a question to which I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry: was it the Champs-Elysee we were on? After the shock of his question wore off I responded holding back both laughter and tears. But even more jaw-dropping than this was his next question: would I help him buy a wallet at Louis Vuitton? I could not believe my ears! For it to happen once is a little out of the ordinary but twice in one day made me wonder did these two keen shoppers know something about LV that I didn’t? Should I go buy one for myself? But then I reminded myself I couldn’t stand LV. It’s a good thing as there are better things to do than hand over a small fortune for a wallet but then to have to stand in line for the privilege to do so.
The oddest thing happened while I was walking on the Champs-Elysee yesterday afternoon. I wasn’t paying much attention to the usual throng of tourists as I was focusing my efforts on finding the Air France ticket office. Seemingly out of nowhere a young man in his mid-twenties stopped me and asked if I spoke Mandarin. I told him I could speak a bit. Then he asked, “ni keyi gao wo bang mang, ma?” Bear in mind I haven’t used my Mandarin in awhile, but what I thought I had heard was, “would you bang me?” Then I quickly realized he was still speaking Mandarin and only asking if I could help him.
This stranger wanted me to buy him two Louis Vuitton wallets so I asked the next logical question which was why he couldn’t buy them himself. He explained he had already bought two so LV was now refusing to let him buy any more until next week. It figured that in France, the only democratic country with a communist party, one would find a luxury goods maker with a leftist sales policy. I’m not sure why I agreed to help this virtual stranger with something as inconsequential as this but the next thing I know he was handing me 700 euros. Of course, I discreetly checked that the bills were real as he explained the style and colour he wanted.
Forget about passing judgement on his poor taste for wanting a wallet emblazoned with that awful LV insignia, or for paying hundreds of euros for plasticized leather, but I couldn’t help think there was something wrong with this scenario. What he had given me was nearly half a month’s rent money in Paris, but regardless, it was a small sum of money. I would have expected it to be to a man from Guanxi, China too. When I last travelled in '98 to China on business our local agent was earning a salary of US 150-200 per month. Granted that was five years ago but how much could salaries have gone up since then?
It was quite an eye-opener inside the LV store. I've shopped the odd time in Prada but even during the height of Prada madness I don't remember line-ups like the ones before me. There were at least 12 people in the queue and the queue would be the only way to get to those wallets. As much as I would have liked to help my "friend" I had to get to the Air France office and then back home to my studies.
I went back out and explained I would not be able to help him at which time he told me I should have gone downstairs where there would be fewer people and no line-ups. He obviously caught me on a good day because like a fool I agreed to try again but now through a different entrance to the lower part of the boutique. He was right: there were fewer people but there were still half a dozen eager buyers in line! Even with this improvement I couldn't be his Good Samaritan. I went back out and returned his money along with my apologies.
I continued along my route toward the Arc de Triomphe. Just at the Arc some minutes later now well past the LV boutique another Chinese man stopped me asking if I spoke Mandarin. I was starting to think this was a tape that had been rewound. I answered as I did just minutes earlier on the other side of the boulevard. Then this young man asked a question to which I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry: was it the Champs-Elysee we were on? After the shock of his question wore off I responded holding back both laughter and tears. But even more jaw-dropping than this was his next question: would I help him buy a wallet at Louis Vuitton? I could not believe my ears! For it to happen once is a little out of the ordinary but twice in one day made me wonder did these two keen shoppers know something about LV that I didn’t? Should I go buy one for myself? But then I reminded myself I couldn’t stand LV. It’s a good thing as there are better things to do than hand over a small fortune for a wallet but then to have to stand in line for the privilege to do so.
Monday, September 01, 2003
MORE PARIS MARKETS: PLACE D'ALIGRE & MARCHÉ COUVERT BEAUVAU &
SUNDAY AFTERNOON IN BOIS DE BOULOGNE
It’s another weekend and an opportunity to explore another market. Last weekend I had missed the market at Place d’Aligre not far from the Marché Bastille where I had been.
Place d’Aligre isn’t for the claustophobic. By the time I had arrived in the late morning, the market was absolutely packed with people. Moving about was virtually impossible but that didn’t dissuade a man from wheeling his bicycle through the main thoroughfare. What amazed me was everyone’s tolerance at something I would have thought suicidal to attempt under such conditions.
The bulk of the market stalls, mostly produce, are on rue Crozatier with further stalls lining rue d’Aligre. This is a more “ethnic” market than the one at Bastille. “Exotic” produce which isn’t normally available at the supermarket may possibly be found here. All in all, the bantering and shouting out of prices by vendors made for a very lively setting. You can also find several stalls selling very cheap bric-brac but bear in mind cheap is only good if it’s also useful as I would later discover with my “big” nail clipper purchase of a couple of euros.
More interesting than the outdoor market was the covered indoor market, Marché Couvert Beauvau. Here I would receive a small lesson in olive oils at Sur Les Quais. I had told the vendor, a very nice woman, that I was interested in an olive oil for dressing salads. She led me to several oils, two Italian, one French, and two Spanish. Some of the oils had a quality she called “verte” which I understood to come from green olives giving an oil what I can only best describe as “punch, sometimes pepperiness, with a bit of a bite.” This is the characteristic in Tuscan oils which I like but I would end up discovering an oil “verte” which also lent a roundness in the mouth for an overall pleasing effect. This oil was Spanish, called Morisca which also happens to be the name of one of the three principal varieties of olives grown in the region north of Andalusia, l’Extrémadure (in English, Extremadura). The oil was very reasonably priced, 5 euros for a nice-looking 500 ml bottle. Sur Les Quai sells bulk olive oil- you choose the size of bottle and the vendor fills and labels it accordingly.
Another stall in the covered market caught my interest- Marilou Ducoret which sells all kinds of terrines, pates, saucissons, and specializes in regional products from Auvergne and Bretagne. I only made a small purchase of saucisson from the Savoie but it would turn out to be a perfect accompaniment to some Brie and the best baguette in Paris at a bakery I would later happen upon on my way back to the apartment.
These items would become a picnic lunch in Bois de Boulogne later in afternoon with a French friend. This and conversations about Stendhal, Camus, Hugo, and I can’t remember who else. Could it possibly get any better than this? Yes, when the finale is a cocoa fix from La Maison du Chocolat.
Merchant Info at Marché Beauvau:
Sur Les Quais tel 01.43.43.21.09
Marilou Ducouret tel 01.43.41.09.37
SUNDAY AFTERNOON IN BOIS DE BOULOGNE
It’s another weekend and an opportunity to explore another market. Last weekend I had missed the market at Place d’Aligre not far from the Marché Bastille where I had been.
Place d’Aligre isn’t for the claustophobic. By the time I had arrived in the late morning, the market was absolutely packed with people. Moving about was virtually impossible but that didn’t dissuade a man from wheeling his bicycle through the main thoroughfare. What amazed me was everyone’s tolerance at something I would have thought suicidal to attempt under such conditions.
The bulk of the market stalls, mostly produce, are on rue Crozatier with further stalls lining rue d’Aligre. This is a more “ethnic” market than the one at Bastille. “Exotic” produce which isn’t normally available at the supermarket may possibly be found here. All in all, the bantering and shouting out of prices by vendors made for a very lively setting. You can also find several stalls selling very cheap bric-brac but bear in mind cheap is only good if it’s also useful as I would later discover with my “big” nail clipper purchase of a couple of euros.
More interesting than the outdoor market was the covered indoor market, Marché Couvert Beauvau. Here I would receive a small lesson in olive oils at Sur Les Quais. I had told the vendor, a very nice woman, that I was interested in an olive oil for dressing salads. She led me to several oils, two Italian, one French, and two Spanish. Some of the oils had a quality she called “verte” which I understood to come from green olives giving an oil what I can only best describe as “punch, sometimes pepperiness, with a bit of a bite.” This is the characteristic in Tuscan oils which I like but I would end up discovering an oil “verte” which also lent a roundness in the mouth for an overall pleasing effect. This oil was Spanish, called Morisca which also happens to be the name of one of the three principal varieties of olives grown in the region north of Andalusia, l’Extrémadure (in English, Extremadura). The oil was very reasonably priced, 5 euros for a nice-looking 500 ml bottle. Sur Les Quai sells bulk olive oil- you choose the size of bottle and the vendor fills and labels it accordingly.
Another stall in the covered market caught my interest- Marilou Ducoret which sells all kinds of terrines, pates, saucissons, and specializes in regional products from Auvergne and Bretagne. I only made a small purchase of saucisson from the Savoie but it would turn out to be a perfect accompaniment to some Brie and the best baguette in Paris at a bakery I would later happen upon on my way back to the apartment.
These items would become a picnic lunch in Bois de Boulogne later in afternoon with a French friend. This and conversations about Stendhal, Camus, Hugo, and I can’t remember who else. Could it possibly get any better than this? Yes, when the finale is a cocoa fix from La Maison du Chocolat.
Merchant Info at Marché Beauvau:
Sur Les Quais tel 01.43.43.21.09
Marilou Ducouret tel 01.43.41.09.37
