Belle Paris

I could probably split this blog up into any number of categories – landmarks, art galleries, food, wine – and spread it out through weekly installments for the next few months. Paris is indisputably the most tourist-visited city in the world and there is a lot to justify this, from the art, the history, the parks and the architecture. Its landmarks – le Tour Eiffel, Notre Dame Cathedral, L’Arc de Triomphe and Basilica Sacre Coeur – are among the most recognizable in the world.

But this is meant to be a blog about London so I will keep to the most important parts of Paris: the espressos, the red wine and the decadent, decadent food.

Some context first: I caught the Eurostar from St. Pancras after work on Thursday 21 October. Two hours later I was at Paris de Nord. The day turned out to be fitting on two fronts. For one, my very first glimpse of Paris was on the very same day in 2004 while backpacking with my sister, and Paul moved to the city on the same day in 2009.

Paul is a friend from Queen’s who made a similar life change to mine last autumn – we both followed our dreams to the Continent. Mine was to be a journalist in London and his was to be a chef in Paris. He has spent the last year working in a Michelin-star restaurant near L’Arc de Triomphe. But, luckily for me, he quit his job recently in anticipation of a move home to Toronto, so I had a well-versed, French-fluent tour guide to take me around.

We spent three days and nights in and around the standard Paris destinations – le Tour Eiffel, Notre Dame Cathedral, the Louvre, Musee L’Orangerie, the Seine, Jardin des Tuilleries, Montmartre and Basilica Sacre Coeur, Musee Dali, L’Ile de la Cite, le Marais and Places des Vosges, Musee Rodin, Jardin Luxembourg, the Sorbonne, the Pantheon and the Latin Quarter, and L’Arc de Triomphe.

I have been to Paris before and have also been to most of the above landmarks, parks and galleries. This Paris visit was unique, however, because I got to have Paul take me around to the cobbled streets, cafes, restaurants, and arrondisements that he has come to love over the past year. And introduce me to the best croissants, espresso alongees, wines, and food that I have ever had.

It strikes me that French food is not necessarily any more elaborate or complicated than the food produced by any other nation. So why is it quite rightly the most unbelievable, delicious and mind-blowing cuisine in the world? I think it is because they do simple things very, very well. Every single bite of every single thing I tried was quite literally a life-changing experience. And it was just cheese, bread, wine and meat. I am not exaggerating.

First of all, only dull people are brilliant at breakfast. (That’s an Oscar Wilde quote that he likely coined while he was living in Paris – he now resides eternally in Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise, close to Proust and Jim Morrison.) Paul and I avoided this adage each morning, sitting outside with croissants, pain chocolat and pain raisin, along with an espresso noire (for Paul) and espresso alongee (for me).

Breakfast (and this is not in any way a complaint) took the same form every morning. But lunch and dinner came in a variety of delicious entrees and plats, some of the most adventurous meals I have ever eaten. Over three days I ate: escargots, boeuf tartare, bone marrow, confit de canard, baguettes, cheeses, a poached egg in blue cheese (maybe the best thing I have ever put in my mouth), a crepe, a croque madame, and a hot dog wrapped with a baguette and melted cheese.

As much as I like to think I have a way with words, I don’t think I can aptly describe the way I felt in tasting each of these delicacies. I think I murmured “Oh my god” every time I tasted anything which is trite and what I say when words just won’t cut it. But I will do my best to explain how I felt at each of the meals I mentioned, even though I don’t believe I can do the actual experience any justice at all.

Paul took me out on Friday night in Chatelet to a typical French restaurant. For appetizers, I chose (or was coaxed into ordering) 12 snails and Paul had the bone marrow. First of all, I believe that when people describe food as orgasmic they are referring to a glob of bone marrow on a piece of toasted baguette. Seriously, I can’t think of much in life that is better than this. Then there were my escargots, which were challenging to evacuate from their shells – an activity level much like eating lobster – but I surprised myself by thoroughly enjoying their little curled bodies soaked in butter, garlic and parsley. The main course for me was raw beef – boeuf tartare – and it was sublime. Tender like sushi but more fulfilling, if that makes sense. Paul had l’ongler of pig, if I remember correctly, but I think he was jealous of my choice.

So the next day he remedied that at lunch by ordering the tartare himself. I had confit de canard (duck), which was blissful, but neither could compare to the appetizers that we chose. I am still not completely sure what the proper name of it was, but imagine a poached egg settled into a melted pot of blue cheese. Then pierce the egg and, as the yolk mixes with the cheese, scoop it up with pieces of baguette. Again, to quote a very wise man, this is the stuff that dreams are make of. The meal had other elements too – a delicious vin en pot, capped off with an espresso alongee – but I have still been thinking about that poached egg and blue cheese ever since I consumed it.

Other titillating delicacies, and perhaps simpler, were a croque madame and a crepe. A croque madame, compared to a croque monsieur, is a toasted cheese and ham sandwich with a fried egg on top (the monsieur has no egg, so just use the ova to differentiate). Simple but delicious. The crepe was something I was on the lookout for all weekend and finally discovered outside Gare de Nord while waiting for my train home. I had cheese and egg. Again, so simple yet so unbelievable mind-blowing. The taste carried me all the way back to London.

Paul also took me to the marche at La Motte Piquette Grenelle on Sunday morning, where every cheese, bread, fruit, vegetable, seafood and meat you can imagine stretches the length of two metro stops. As you might have seen in my Facebook photos, I captured the early lives of figs, artichokes, oranges, cow tongues, mussels, baguettes, croissants, cheeses of all kinds, chickens, tomatoes and fish. While Borough Market by London Bridge in London is a much more posh Sunday food market, this Parisian marche was more fluid and simple and real.

I hope that everything above does some justice to how I feel about my trip to Paris. If you know me, you know it is not hard to please me – especially when it comes to food and wine. And the food and wine and history and art and experiences that I consumed during my three days in Paris have been both simple and complex. I can still taste the bone marrow, the escargots, the tartare and the poached egg in blue cheese. I do love London, don’t get me wrong, but I came back thinking that if I could write in French I would be in Paris.