Just Another Saturday In Paris

Just Another Saturday In Paris

Here's the view of Notre Dame at night as photographer Sue Rynski and I walked back to the 6th arrondissement from Richard Nahem and Vincent Gaglioso's party in the Marais.

There, I saw a number of Paris blogger friends, including La Coquette and Polly Vous Français, who recently blogged about the fire at one of my favorite places, the taxidermist Deyrolle.

From earlier in the day, here's lunch at La Rotonde (actually, my friend Mark's lunch, because I just had the pumpkin soup, having had a pain au chocolat from Gerard Mulot for breakfast not long before).

Never a dull moment with Mark, a friend since the 80's from New York, now living and working in Paris, but who I think still refers to himself as "a wop from The Bronx." Here I am listening to one of his stories.

photo of me by Emily Tarr

Dinner was at Bastide Odeon, where we sat at the table in front of the rust wall hanging at the link. We always sit upstairs -- warmer and cozier. Here's my main course, the roasted chicken (or, more precisely, Volaille fermière rôtie à l’ail confit, pommes de terre « Rougette de Villegagnon).

Totally tender and delicious. I don't usually order chicken, but I was tired, and forgot that volaille is not the word for veal. (Veal is "veau.")

I also forgot to photograph my appetizer and dessert before I dug in -- sorry, but if you'd seen them, you would've done the same. The appetizer was a soup made out of a root called topinambours, aka Jerusalem artichokes. Chocolate & Zucchini blogs about them here:

It's not everyday that one gets to discover a whole new, previously unpublished vegetable. It's not everyday that this new vegetable seems to belong to a little tribe of bulb-headed, purple-hooded munchkins. And it's not everyday that said munchkins turn out to have a delightful taste, halfway between an artichoke and a sweet potato.

As I'm well aware, topinambours (or Jerusalem artichokes) are news only to me : they've been around for centuries, mostly used in France to feed cattle (the illustrious Limousin cow in particular). They were also one of the very few vegetables that could be found during the war, and those bad memories led people to turn away from them as soon as things got better, thus condemning the poor topinambour (and she rhymes) to oblivion as a légume oublié, a forgotten vegetable. Thankfully, légumes oubliés are all the rage these days, and they have been turning up again on produce stalls here and there, to the joy of those of us who love a little change and vegetable adventure.

And sorry to be boring, but my soup tasted like pureed squash -- delicious, but a bit like the pumpkin soup I had for lunch.

I got it because I generally order off the specials at a good restaurant, and with rather reckless abandon, as the specials are probably the stuff the chef is most excited about making, and are probably the tastiest. And/or are just the most adventuresome to eat. Here are yesterday night's:

I also got the dessert special, the cerises (morello cherries) with the pistachio-crusted ice cream. Delish! Gobbled half down then remembered I'd meant to photo it. Whoops!