Feasts for the eyes and stomach

Kelley is again at the keyboard to describe our fun Friday, March 12

It is difficult to explain the wonder that is La Grande Epicerie, especially for foodies. Ostensibly a grocery store, but so much more, this mammoth market is a combination of shelves and serving stations that has beckoned us three times in a week. (http://www.lagrandeepicerie.fr/#en-GB/home)

For Rusty’s and Stacy’s final Parisian lunch we chose quiche, Panini, and a baguette Rusty and I split and then overloaded with bricks of paté, likely 6-8 servings each (and more fat grams than a sumo wrestler consumes), topped with cheese and white-hot mustard. It was American gross excess at its best, but our coats sure are shiny!

Stuffed, we hopped the metro for Musee D’Orsay, where anyone’s gluttony for French impressionist art would be sated. It’s an almost unbelievable collection, a “greatest hits of art” lineup: Monet, Van Gogh, Renoir, Toulouse Lautrec, Manet, Rodin, Degas, Cezanne.

Hundreds of paintings organized in a very doable, two-story gallery framework in a converted train station. It continued our “gross excess” theme in a non-caloric, art appreciation direction. But still, it was no less an unprecedented feast.

If you spent as much time pondering each canvas and sculpture as it deserved, you could spend as much time here as you might at the Louvre, though you wouldn’t walk so far. Musee D’Orsay is an absolute must on any tourist’s trip to Paris. (http://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/home.html)

Neil, one half of our host couple, returned from New York on Friday, and we met him back at our home base in the evening. This was the first chance for Rusty, Stacy and Ashli to meet this immensely charming and interesting man who has worked hard to create such an amazing existence for his family in Paris. And although we had negotiated our way pretty well through the cafes and brasseries – I can identify enough words on the menu to make good selections – we all enjoyed kicking back and letting Neil take control as we dined at Erawan, a Michelin award winning Thai restaurant in the neighborhood. (http://erawanthairestaurant.com)

Neil ordered for us with input about our favorite Thai dishes. Every bite as we noshed our way, family style, through three appetizers and three entrees was excellent. Neil explained that the Thai restaurants in Paris have toned down the spiciness to please the French palate, but there was accompanying chili sauce to reinstall the zing, which Rusty and I definitely did.

When we emerged about 10 p.m. we realized the weather had warmed up, and we enjoyed a less bundled up stroll to the Hotel Duquesne, where we sat at café tables out front and enjoyed a drink while Rusty burned through his final cigar in Paris, this one a Cuban.

We bid adieu to our friends, whom we’ll miss during our second week here. We were fortunate to find a couple whose ideas of what was fun, how much was enough, and what the general pace of the days should be, were all right in tune with ours!

Au revoir, mes amis!

Kelley

Thanks, Kelley! For those of you who are Facebook friends with me, please look at my Paris album for many more pictures of the art at Muse D'Orsay today. Ashli

Lunch and Louvre

I met Mona, Venus and Victory today and had my first Nutella crepe to boot!

My three travel companions and I haven’t been getting very early starts to our days in Paris. (I know that comes as no surprise to those of you who know me and my aversion to early rising.) By the time we have a few cups of coffee from our hosts’ swank espresso automaton and get ourselves presentable for the outside world, it is usually near 11 o’clock.

None of us mind this leisurely start to our days; after all, we’re on vacation. Even so, we’re in PARIS, and there’s no excuse for not seeing all we can see. We’ve typically hit it hard from 11:30 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. and today was no exception.

Thursday’s sightseeing and culinary adventures included:

• A superb lunch at a quaint boulangerie (bakery), more details below

• A couple hours on a sight-seeing bus (open air, top deck, chilly) that took us by many major Paris sights

• Two hours at the Louvre, details to follow.

• Dessert and drinks at a very quaint corner café, table on the patio (heaters)

The Boulangerie

Rusty and Stacy have now moved to a hotel because our hosts are returning home and their space will not comfortably accommodate six adults. Understandable and no issue. In fact, them moving to a hotel has given us reason to explore a new neighborhood, though the hotel is not too far from where we’re staying.

We helped them transfer their luggage to the hotel and by then it was time for lunch. We happened upon a boulangerie – or bakery – very near their hotel and decided it looked perfect. Turns out we were right. This bakery not only offered sandwiches but also a daily plate lunch option, quiche and salad choices. Heaven.

As in most restaurants we’ve experienced, this one served our lunch on actual plates with real metal utensils and glass glasses. And I’m not talking just the table-clothed restaurants. These are lunch-time time restaurants where the food is prepared quickly behind the counter and handed over. What a nice change from the American standard of paper and plastic everything.

Rusty chose the daily special which was sausage and lintels, Stacy and I chose quiche and salad (hers Florentine and mine Lorraine) and Kelley had the classic Croque Monsieur, a toasted ham and cheese sandwich.

We all tried a bite of one another’s choice, as is our custom, and everything was top notch. The lintels tasted as if they’d been cooked with a ham bone and the sausage was a high-quality kielbasa type.

Kelley’s sandwich was entirely better than the version Stacy had had on Wednesday

at the Versailles café. His was built with thin, rustic, focaccia and France’s typically superior ham and cheese. The signature feature of the Croque Monsieur is the sandwich has cheese broiled to a bubbly yellow-brown on the top. Fork-tender and delicious.

Stacy noted correctly that our quiche didn’t have an overpowering “eggy” taste but was well balanced between the egg and cheese plus ham and in her case, spinach and other veggies. The side salad was a loose mound of green-leaf lettuce drizzled with simple vinaigrette. Perfect.

In France there is no Diet Coke but instead its cousin, Coca-Cola Light. There is a slight difference in their tastes but I’ve easily converted.

The Louvre

After lunch we hopped on a tour bus Rusty had arranged in advance. It’s the type of tour where you can either stay on for the duration or hop on and off. We stayed on for five or six stops – until we reached the Louvre.

I know you’ve seen pictures of the Louvre and its famous glass pyramid entrance, or perhaps you’ve even visited. I’ll tell you, I was amazed at how enormous the walled Louvre compound is!

The genius design of the pyramid entry into the underground maze (OMG – what a MAZE!) that connects all the buildings was something to admire. Kelley and I said more than once that we must get a book on the Louvre just to learn how it morphed from a military compound to a palace to the world’s most important art museum, and how it came to be accessed and organized the way it is.

We knew there was no way to see even half the exhibits. It might take eight hours a day for a month to cover it all. We did what many do: head straight for the three biggies: the Mona Lisa and two important sculptures, Venus di Milo and Winged Victory. Along the path through what my mother would call a “rabbit’s warren” of rooms and levels, we saw an overwhelming variety of other paintings, sculptures and artifacts.

The Louvre is intimidating and confusing, to be honest, and therefore frustrating. Two hours was enough for us to gawk at the big attractions, glance at some gorgeous paintings and gain an appreciation for the scope of the collection. Plus the ceiling décor of the rooms eclipses those at Versailles. If there was no art in the Louvre and all there was to see were the friezes and paintings on the ceilings, it would still be worth the 9.5 Euro admission fee.

Ah...the crepe

I had my first French crepe – filled with Nutella – while sitting on the patio at a sidewalk café on a bustling corner, sipping espresso and watching the Parisians stride quickly by. It will be an indelible memory for me, just as much as visiting the Louvre, Versailles or seeing the Eiffel Tower for the first time.

I’ll leave you with a quote from Hemmingway about Paris, shared with me by my beloved professor, Dr. Randall Wight, who along with another beloved professor, Dr. Johnny Wink, is quite enamored with the City of Light:

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”

(VIDEO below: see the Mona Lisa for yourself!)

Those French sure know how to gild a mirror

Wow! I’m still in golden-glam overload from visiting Versailles today. I’ll tell you first about our train trip, our lunch (of course) and then about the little “chateau” that helped spawn the French Revolution.

First of all, Versailles is a city in and of itself, not just another name for the famous – or infamous - center of French royalty’s opulence.

Our party of four Parisian wanderers boarded the train from a station within steps of our home base. The ride to Versailles was no more than 20 minutes, even with several stops, so the city seems to be and is a suburb of Paris.

The train ride offered view of the more modern outskirts of Paris including multi-story office buildings and more modern apartment houses. It also afforded us an along-side view of the Seine for a few miles. We spotted what Stacy had known was here, but not where it was, a small replica of the Statue of Liberty. We saw it briefly from the train and a check of Wikipedia (the internet information source for all that’s right and true) and found this location description:

“The second Statue of Liberty is near the Grenelle Bridge on the Île des Cygnes, a man-made island in the river Seine.”

The reference to it being the “second” isn’t to its big sister in New York, but rather to a smaller, life-sized version in the famous Luxembourg Garden in Paris (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jardin_du_Luxembourg).

We hope to visit the one in the river before the end of the week. It looks to be within walking distance or an easy metro ride from away.

But I digress…

We were hungry when we disembarked the train and found ourselves in the quaint but bustling city of Versailles. We walked a few blocks from the train station, a bit puzzled by the map we had consulted, but eventually found a charming pedestrian-friendly street and selected a corner brasserie (café) named Le Saint Claire (www.saintclaire-versailles.com). We chose it over some other eateries that seemed either empty or not as attractive to the locals. Plus the menu promised one of Kelley’s favorite French dishes, cassoulet.

Side note: In France, all restaurants are required by law to post their menus so they’re visible to passersby. This is a tremendous benefit to travelers.

We were seated around 12:30 p.m. and soon Le Saint Claire filled with local businessmen, blue-collar workers and ladies who lunch. Our choice had been affirmed.

Our party attempts to adhere to the rule of no two people ordering the same thing so we can all try one another’s selection. This has proven to be a smart plan. Our lunch selections were:

Cassoulet ordered by me (of course planning to share with Kelley). Cassoulet is a porridge of big white beans, a rich tomato-based red broth, a hunk of Bratwurst-like sausage and a leg of braised duck.

Mille Feuilles Croustillant ordered by Kelley because he couldn’t resist the badly translated descripton of “one thousand being crusty sheets…” filled with shrimp, avocado and topped with a chive cream sauce. Turns out it was a salad and not an “en croute” hot pocket notion he envisioned. Nor was there any avocado to be found. Stacy had seen the classic French toasted ham and Swiss cheese sandwich, a “Croque Monsieur,” in market food cases since our arrival, so she ordered her first today.

Rusty decided pasta sounded good, so he ordered Penne au Jambon Cru which was penne pasta topped with a creamy gorgonzola sauce and “country ham.” The country ham to which the French referred is what everyone else knows as prosciutto. The huge and almost paper thin slices of premium ham were simply laid on top of the penne and cheese.

We each enjoyed our tastes of the others’ dishes, though I’ll admit I was a bit disappointed in the cassoulet. The big white beans (fava?) weren’t cooked nearly enough to be the comfort-food fix I was aiming for. However, the sauce, sausage and duck accompaniments were well executed. And by the time lunch had ended, there was no food left on anyone’s plates. We even had a “dessert” course of an assortment of cheeses, just like the French often do.

On to the chateau

Perhaps when first constructed, the chateau or palace of Versailles (www.chateauversailles.fr) was set apart, out in the countryside. Not now. I was surprised that the enormous, walled expanse of buildings and grounds were only a few city blocks’ walk from where we had lunch.

The approach to the palace's gilded gates is not lined by lawn or trees or even grass, as I had envisioned. Instead, the imposing expanse is paved with four-inch square, unevenly settled cobblestones. The surface was not comfortable underfoot, even in comfortable shoes.

Entry to the palace was not allowed until going through a metal detector, but that’s certainly understandable given the priceless artwork, craftsmanship and history inside. The first and one of the most impressive views of the whole chateau is the chapel.

Calling it simply a “chapel” is quite an understatement. The place of worship was a late addition to the chateau, but like the rest of the place, is caked in carved marble, granite, gilded wood work and plaster.

Almost each room in the complex is dominated by enormous paintings depicting members of the monarchy, Greek gods and goddesses, or scenes depicting the royals’ victory in battle.

There are too many rooms in the main chateau for me to count, each extravagantly decorated and each with a specific purpose. There were the king’s and queen’s separate bed chambers, the rooms in which they allowed an audience, formal rooms for government proceedings and political meetings. Many of the rooms were solely meant to impress and intimidate, and I can certainly see how they accomplished that.

This isn’t my first lush and lavish residence to tour. I was awed by Biltmore, the Vanderbilt-built American “castle” in Asheville, North Carolina when I visited it a few years ago. So, I expected gilded mirrors, fancy chandeliers, expensive silk draperies and amazing antiques to be the rule of the day at Versailles. That expectation was far surpassed and by the end of the tour, I felt as if my retinas had been flash-burned by all the shiny glitz and glam. But I also felt something else.

Though the audio tour didn’t speak to it very much, I was very aware that generations of French royalty and politicos had surrounded themselves with unbelievable décor, isolating themselves from the reality of the daily life of their subjects. The monarchy figuratively lost their heads in faulty justification when they escaped Paris and began to create their own world in Versailles.

Those first missteps led successive royal generations far off course, ending with the literal loss of their heads in the French Revolution.

With that in mind, the tour was a bit somber for me, but nonetheless impressive. No one should visit Paris without touring the chateau at Versailles.

Good night!

From Rue Cler to Montmartre

Let me just set the scene for you as I write this: Rusty, Stacy, Kelley and I have come back to the apartment after a fun day, which I will describe, and we are now relaxing in the living room with cheap but tasty wine, a given in Paris. We’re enjoying hors d’oeuvres: slices of fresh baguette, topped with creamy cheese and amazing sausage-mushroom marinara ,leftover from last night’s dinner (browned in the oven). There’s also a plate of sliced Fuji apples, hard cheese, pesto-marinated cherry tomatoes and more baguette except this batch is room-temperature slices rubbed with garlic, smeared with olive oil and a smattering of cracked black pepper. We had another great day filled with iconic Paris sights and experiences. We walked approximately 50 yards across a crushed pebble park walkway and were that quickly under the mammoth Eiffel Tower equidistant between its four “feet.” What an imposing yet elegant structure! It’s pedestrian-only beneath the tower, the anchor of one end of the Champs de Mars, the famous tree-lined grassy mall. At the other end of this extended vista is L’Ecole Militaire, the military academy where Napoleon and countless other French soldiers studied military strategy. We veered off the Champs de Mars to reach Marie Anne Cantin, arguably Paris’ most famous cheese shop. It is a tiny shop, as are most in Paris, but it is jam-packed floor to ceiling with the most fabulous yet ugly, moldy cheese – from wedges to rounds, blocks and enormous wheels. We only peered in through the huge glass windows and watched the purveyor slice and weigh her stinky-yet-divine wares. We could honestly smell the cheese vapors escaping through the glass! Just a few steps later we were at the Rue Cler, a famed pedestrian-only market street. While window-shopping and mingling there, we noticed a nearly inconspicuous camera crew directed toward a man – wearing a very conspicuous wig – and woman who were attending a card-table set up nearly in the middle of the street. They were offering passers-by a cup of red wine they were ladling from a bowl. We were hesitant at first, but they insisted, in English, that they were giving away cups of wine today and that we should try some. Kelley was the only brave one, but Rusty, Stacy and I gathered around to observe. After Kelley tasted the wine, the couple asked him what he thought of it. Kelley said it was awful! They agreed it was, that it tasted like vinegar. (Odd.) They thanked us for trying it and we walked away. Just a few steps down the street we were stopped by a young lady who said we had been part of a joke they were staging for a comedy DVD being filmed there today. She told us we were part of a prank by famous French comedian, Jean-Yves Lafesse. Apparently it was he in the bad wig. We all signed a release and hopefully will someday see ourselves – or hear from others who saw us – on the DVD. Along with a huge crowd of French folks out on their lunch break, we secured a table at the Café Marche. Kelley’s sister had highly recommended we visit the café; we also found later it was touted by our Fodor’s Paris book. We were not disappointed. Their signature dish is duck confit, a hind-quarter of duck, pan fried (in its own fat, hence the “confit”) served with pan-fried diced potatoes and a green salad. Kelley and Stacy chose the confit, with promises to share. I ordered a salad consisting of butter lettuce, shredded carrots, steamed haricot verts, cauliflower florets and shredded cabbage which seemed to be lightly coated with a creamy vinegar-based dressing. Along one side of the salad was a mound of beautiful yellow cous cous studded with a few golden raisins. Atop all this were two-by-three inch squares of breaded and pan fried, amazingly creamy goat cheese. O-M-G. Rusty chose the salmon skewers which came chargrilled with a sweet glaze, accompanied by a mound of white rice. The salmon was extremely fresh and had none of the unfortunately common “whang” many inland salmon dishes have in the States. He declared it fantastic, as did I, because he was kind enough to share a bite. Kelley and Stacy shared generous tastes of their duck and potatoes which were also TOO DIE FOR. See pics of all. As if the lunch entrees weren’t enough, we shared two desserts. I chose a pear tart wading in homemade chocolate sauce, and Rusty chose profiteroles – puff pastry balls filled with chilled cream and topped with ice cream and chocolate drizzle. My pear tart was beautiful! The pear slices were paper thin and pinwheeled expertly in a circle atop the vanilla cream filling. Unfortunately, a butane kitchen torch, used to give the pears a browned highlight, completely burned the edge of the crust to a pitch black. We enjoyed the inside but left the outside crust alone. The profiteroles were light and sweet, and the creamy parts were divine. Amazingly, we were able to ambulate and make our way to Les Invalides, a sprawling former military hospital and where Napoleon is buried. We then caught the metro to Montmartre, a hilly, funky, touristy artists’ neighborhood full of shops and cafes in the literal shadow of the neighborhood’s focal point, the hilltop Sacre Coeur cathedral. Sacre Coeur’s dome is the second highest spot in Paris; only the Eiffel Tower soars higher. Stacy and I browsed the shops and picked up a few souvenirs, while Kelley and Rusty went ahead to find a spot out of the fray. We caught up with them and decided not to scale the significantly steep, bestepped hillside to tour the church, but instead surveyed the sunlit structure in perfect view from four café seats below. Tomorrow: Versailles Bon soir (good night)!

Of church and chow

Two historic churches and one fine meal that’ll make you get religion

(One of the many benefits of a relationship with Kelley Bass - this vacation being but one - is having access to his stellar writing skills. I thought I'd let him take command of the keyboard tonight to provide a capsule of the day's events. Thanks, Kelley! -Ashli)

What better place to start the first full day of a Paris adventure than where Paris began – the Ile de la Cite? This island in the Seine was settled in the first century B.C., probably because it was the easiest piece of ground to defend. But the current-day French didn’t even see the four of us coming as we took the place by storm.

First stop was Saint Chapelle, the 13^th-century cathedral that is home to what probably is the most famous stained glass in the world.

The 15 panels that each is more than 50 feet high tell the story of the Bible in amazing detail. The western facing windows come alive on a sunny day, which we were lucky enough to enjoy (though outside the 40-degree temp and 20-mph wind overrode the sun’s warmth, sorry to say). The deep, rich blues of the stained glass are awe-inspiring today, but it’s hard to imagine their power 800 years ago, when viewed by peasant Frenchmen/women living in hovels in much tougher, less convenient, less comfortable times.

Notre Dame, a five-minute walk away, was even more dramatic – a larger, more commanding presence. The highlight is the church’s façade, with entries designed to look like praying hands, and its row of sculpted kings gazing on all before them. From the 1100s to the 1300s, multiple generations worked to complete the church, the ultimate generational “my daddy worked on it, and his daddy worked on it, and his daddy worked on it, ad nauseum,” but only the final generation lived to see it in all its glory.

What better chaser for a double-shot of mega-centuries-old churchdom than a double dip of Berthillon ice cream, some of the best in the world. Must say at more than $5 for a couple of ping-pong ball size blobs in a sugar cone it was a little rich for our blood, but it still was fabulous.

The ice cream got our culinary juices flowing, and we hopped off the Metro at Le Grand Epicerie, the upscale food market next door to Le Bon Marche, Paris’ ultimate department store. On the shopping list: fresh made cheese ravioli, sausage, a jar of chunky, gourmet Italian pasta sauce (as different from Ragu as Sonny Williams is from Steak Out), butter lettuce, mushrooms, baguettes, an eight-inch lemon tart and a couple of nice bottles of Bordeaux. Cooked quickly and with much love, it was enjoyed in the shadow of the illuminated Eiffel Tower.

A quick spiff of the kitchen and dining table extruded all available energy, save a bit channeled through the fingers to weave this tale of fun in the City of Light.

Night, y’all!

The Eiffel outside my window

Greetings from the City of Lights! I'm afraid I must make this post brief because I can hardly keep my eyes open. Our flight from Little Rock to Chicago was uneventful, as was our eight-hour flight from Chicago to Paris. Uneventful is good but it also means we didn't get much of a sleep "event" either. Crowded seat row, chatty passengers and a few unhappy babies kept our cat naps to just that. We arrived at the airport Sunday morning (local time), met-up with our traveling companions who had taken another flight, and were taken by a driver to our hosts' home, arriving about 10 A.M. We did as is the recommendation after an overnight flight to Europe. We stayed up for the rest of the day, even though it felt like the middle of the night to our bodies' internal clocks (because it WAS the middle of the night back in Arkansas). To help keep us awake, we decided to go to the horse races because the particular track of interest only runs on Sundays. I'll post pictures and information tomorrow about our fun afternoon at the Auteuil steeple-chase race track today. After watching a few races and not winning nor losing big, we returned to our neighborhood for a nice dinner at the Ribe Restaurant, a classic French brasserie. Then, back to the apartment for the night (at 7:00 P.M. local time) with our eyes and bodies very weary. But here's the kicker The inspiration for this blog's title is something I knew before we arrived: that our hosts' lush apartment is literally steps away from the Eiffel tower! The magnificant, globally-recognized landmark dominates the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows in both the living and dining rooms. I had seen photos, but have now seen the million-dollar view for myself... I am truly getting an eye full (Eiffel) of Paris! I took the accompanying photo and video from the balcony outside those windows - a balcony that will become my favorite spot on the planet for these two weeks in March. Thanks for being interested in my posts; goodnight! _____________________________________ VIDEO NOTES: My apologies for the sideways orientation of the video. I forget that I can't "rotate counterclockwise" videos as I do when I take sideways photos. The tower is illuminated with "uplights" startring at dark each evening, but the "disco inferno" dazzle happens for a few minutes on the hour, each hour from dark to to 1:00 A.M. each night; that's what this video captures. SPECTACULAR!

Two weeks in Paris - starting today

Saturday, March 6 (Little Rock, AR) I can't believe the day has actually arrived! In a few hours I'll be on a plane from Little Rock to Chicago, then another from Chicago to Paris. Wahoooo! Months and months ago, my sweet Kelley surprised me with tickets and arrangements for a March trip to Paris. I was speechless and stunned to say the least. Even though I've been many places in the states, my only trip outside the U.S. was to St. Kitts in the Caribbean (and that was in the early 90s). Kelley has the good fortune of having a sister and brother-in-law whose careers took them to Paris more than two decades ago, and that's where they've remained (understandably). The good fortune is not only that they live there, but that they're generous enough to allow us to come stay with them. Otherwise a two-week stay in Paris that included paying for lodging would be cost prohibitive. Plus - how fantastic to have "natives" as tour guides! An added bonus to this trip is that our friends, Rusty and Stacey, are joining us for the first week. I am so GRATEFUL to have this opportunity!! I'll post photos and capture our experiences here (warning: expect much information about the food and drink, as well as sights), so you - along with me - can get an "Eiffel of Paris." Stay tuned. (PS - new blog posts will be announced via my Twitter account. Please "follow" me on Twitter if you're not already. www.Twitter.com/AshAhrens)