November was an odd month in Paris, complicated by massive public transportation strikes, which meant that getting from A to B was a daily challenge. I have never walked so much in my life, but, I have loved it: funny things happen on walks…
The other day I was dropping off a house-guest at the Gare de Lyon (which is a train station completely on the other side of town from me). There was not a taxi to be found, so I began my long, stomp home, taking an unfamiliar route. Well, I hadn’t turned three corners when, in the unlikeliest of spots, I ran smack into Naomi Duguid. (Naomi and her husband, Jeffrey Alford, are travellers and authors of food books, including “Flatbreads” and “Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet”). “What are YOU doing here?”, I yelped. She was on her way back to Toronto from a research trip in Spain, and she still hadn’t checked into her hotel room. So, naturally, I said, “Don’t! Come stay at my place”, which she did. We had a blast, and one of the wonderful things we did was to visit a market I’d never been to before (on avenue Président Wilson). There is famous vegetable grower who sells there called Joel Thiébault, and his stand was the most arresting I’ve ever seen: an explosion of familiar and unfamiliar vegetables, in every colour of nature. We bought all kinds of different root vegetables, and when we got home and spilled them onto the counter, their scent filled the kitchen, even raw! So, we had a vegetable feast that night which was memorable. It goes to show you that when you have great ingredients, all you need to dress them to perfection is olive oil or butter and a little salt.
On another walk, earlier in the week, I had a different serendipitous experience. It was a cold day, and I was scurrying through the Palais Royal with a furry hood pulled down over my eyes. Suddenly, the air was filled with beautiful music. I flipped back my hood to investigate and what did I see but two ball-room dancers, dressed in red, swirling through the courtyard to waltzes emanating from a tiny tape recorder which they’d set on the ground. The photograph doesn’t do the scene justice: it was impossibly romantic, and the couple were incredibly fluid dancers. What a great way to keep warm!
I was back in the same spot a couple of days ago on a gastronomic walking tour with food historian, Carolin Young. She led a group of us from the Palais Royal though the former Paris market, les Halles, ending at a historic restaurant for an American Thanksgiving lunch that lasted all afternoon. That’s the two of us in the restaurant, and you can see how elaborate the décor is. One of my favourite features of the place was the private dining-rooms upstairs: embellished, saucy nooks for 19th century tête-à-têtes (still, I’m told, in use…).
Well, December - the eating season - is here, so I guess I’d better keep up the walking, even though strikes are over. Happy Holidays, |
