Storming the Bastille- market, that is...

Sunday, October 24, 2010

When I arrived at my apartment, my "greeter" Jennifer, told me that Sunday was market day at the Bastille and it was worth the trip. Considering that the trip was all of a 25 minute walk, I was definitely up for it.

Some 300+ years ago this spot was the site of one of the most terrible prisons in world history. The wooden structure that was the Bastille is long gone and now it's a bustling intersection and home to the market twice a week.

This market runs 7 days a week and moves around so everyone in Paris gets a turn. Thursday and Sunday belong to Bastille and since next Thursday is the planned national strike against retirement reform and I'll be marching with my new compatriots, I decided that Sunday was my day.

The market is HUGE and a cacophony of sounds and smells both wonderful and nose pinching. You can imagine what the aisle with the French cheese across from the fishmonger smelled like. If you've ever been in a french cremerie then you know the word pungent is polite. And we all know what the fish market smells Iike. Wow.

30 different kinds of honey and cute candles

Yes, cuisses de grenouille are frogs legs

I wandered up and down the aisles until every sense was filled and then made my way to Place des Vosges, where Victor Hugo used to live. I found a little restaurant whose chalkboard highlighted Quiche Lorraine and I said, yes please.

The restaurant was run by your basic angry french waitress who looked like Lola, in Run Lola Run minus the bright orange color in her hair. Even though I spoke only french she had me pegged as an American because she took me to my table and asked if I wanted an English or French menu. I said, "Ca n'importe." (it doesn't matter) to which she replied, "you get English" Thank you, Lola, you should dye your hair.

The quiche was delicious. I'm sure Lola didn't make it.

After Lola, I made my way down the narrow streets of the left bank lined with expensive designer boutiques and packed wall to wall with what seemed like the entire country of Italy. I wanted to say, hey, you guys have all this in Rome and Milan already, why come this far?

The Italian women were hilarious to watch. The ones walking in pairs or trios seemed to all be wearing matching shoes or boots. I mean identical shoes and boots. I saw so many that I decided it must be some Italian law that women who walk together must be seen in the same shoes. Or maybe they just don't have much originality....although I will say they were almost all dressed to the NINES in the latest of fashion and many of them looked amazing.

The other funny thing about the Italian women was that they have no sense of age when it comes to fashion. The 60 something grandma was sporting the same outfit as the 40 something daughter who matched the 20 something grand daughter. It was a good lesson in, you are too old when.... There comes a time when you have to say, "Nana, no." (I'll write more on fashion later)

I made my way past Les Halles and now know why I was advised to stay away at night. It was pretty full of nefarious youth with chips on shoulders and an angry stare.

It has started to rain again. I found a great cafe where I can have a pichet du Bordeaux, reflect on today and do what my new compatriots do best...people watch.

A la prochaine.



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Location:In the shadow of St. Eustache

First stop in Paris

I arrived a couple of hours ago but that was consumed by passport stamping, baggage collection and navigating the train to the Gare du Nord. This was followed by the cab ride with the cabbie more interested in using my iPad map of Paris than actually driving me to the apartment. I didn't
mind, it was funny to watch.

It's cold. I mean see your breath cold. The sun was coming out while on the train, so I was holding out hope...but the clouds have moved in and a soft rain is falling. I ventured out, appropriately hooded ready to attack the city. For the first few blocks there was nary a soul about, it's noon, maybe the rain is keeping everyone inside.

The Marais is a very interesting place. It is the hub of the Jewish community here as well as the center of gay Paree. Hence, you find yourself walking past hassidic Jewish families followed by some of the most beautiful men you've ever seen...they're gay, and they're stunning. *sigh*

I found a little cafe (and it is hard to choose because they're on every corner) called appropriately enough, Le Bistrot.

It is commandeered, and I mean that seriously, by a very affable man who looks like Gerard Depardieu's thinner twin with really bad teeth. He is the antithesis of all you expect in Paris. He is loud, domineering, cheerful and would be very well suited owing a deli in Brooklyn.

I ordered a pichet of the sancerre rouge and the bruschetta "quattro stagione" which we all know is Italian, but it said it had cheese and roasted red peppers, grilled artichokes and forest mushrooms, so I said, "yes, please."

What arrived is something we don't have in the US which is a cross between bruschetta and pizza...I mean it WAS a bruschetta, but it was as big as a pizza. All fire grilled and delicious. When it arrived I said, "c'est très grand" (it's really big) to which Gerard's twin said, "mais, bien sur" (but, of course)

The cheese was gooey, the artichokes were smokey and the forest mushrooms were the ones that mice use as umbrellas in children's books. Tiny, delicate and adorable. And yes, I ate the whole thing.

Bruschetta Quattro Staggione

After I arrived, the place filled up. Which I'm pretty sure was a result of others on the street seeing me enter the premises. (or not) and then almost as quickly, everyone was done and it was empty again.

It looks like the rain is slowing a bit...I'm making my way toward Notre Dame to spend some quality time with Our Lady...

A la prochaine (until next time)


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Location:Rue Vieille du Temple,Paris,France

Cartin' Around

In my youth in the land of the Pennsylvania Dutch, back in Pennsylvania don't 'cha know, the word "cartin'" was used in two specific contexts:

Do you really want to be cartin’ that around?
And
Sorry, but I’m not cartin’ you along.

Truth be told, it has be more than a few years since I’ve heard the word cart used as a verb, or outside of the context of shopping; but in Portland, it is back with a delicious vengeance.

For those of you who live in the greater Portland area, you already know that food carts have exploded on to the PDX foodie scene. They’ve even organized themselves into clustered semi-permanent pods with names like Cartopia, Lot 91 and Ala Cart. However, in the well-heeled land of Lake Oswego, there is nary a wheeled food vendor in sight willing to step off the food cart cliff. So my daughter and I jumped into the Beetle, dropped the top and ventured forth to do some Carting...Portland style.

If you’re new to carting and want a sure bet that will thrill the entire family, we strongly recommend you begin at the Grilled Cheese Grill on NE Alberta, across from the Alberta Public House. Who can argue with an entire menu of nothing but variations on our favorite comfort food. There’s hardly a red-blooded American without fond childhood memories of those crunchy, buttery, gooey morsels of high fat and sodium deliciousness.

We decided to be a bit adventurous in our choices. I had the BABS: Bacon, Apple, Brie and Swiss and my daughter had the Jalapeno Popper with cream cheese and jalapenos. They have lots of other choices for your own cheesy morsels. Needless to say we were so thrilled that we hopped back in the car and proceeded to troll Portland for some of the better known pod locations to see what they had to offer, in spite of the fact that most are closed on the weekends.




All this Cartin’ Around got me to thinkin’. I wonder if Lake Oswego would be willing to embrace the food cart culture. As I mused I thought of the food vendors at Saturday market. They’re almost like food carts…without the cart, that is. But then I reflected on our trip to the pods…





I tried to imagine a place where we could replicate this by the lake and remembered...the slogan is Keep PORTLAND Weird (and make sure the food stops in Lake Oswego are without wheels and four on the floor). Thats the version of the slogan too long for the bumper sticker

We may not see any converted Airstreams with funny names and yummy smells in LO anytime soon, but I'll encourage my fellow Lakers and Pacers to make your way North and indulge in a little food slumming. You won't be disappointed.


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