Paris! Days 1 and 2

1/22 We arrived in Paris mid-afternoon on another late train, this time by about an hour, BUT since we had seats I hardly noticed. (Start those expectations low and it's all icing on the way up.)  We found our way to the Champs-Elysees where Roger's friend, Gerry, works. A bit of a walking tour with our bags and we were ready to go back to her stylish and comfortable apartment for a shower before dinner. Gerry is delightful. Several evenings and commutes of conversation left me knowing more about Franc,e Gerry, and her and Roger's school time in Germany yet, sadly, still unable to correctly pronounce 'Bayeux'.

Dinner. My God. I now have a personal understanding of what all the fuss is about regarding French food. We went to a restaurant called Terroir Parisien. It is apparently a side project for a three-star Michelin chef. Most, if not all, of the food is locally sourced.

*Vegetarian/ vegan/ duck rights public service announcement: You may not enjoy the following as much as your meat or duck liver-eating fellow citizens. Perhaps move on more quickly to Paris, the grift.

For the rest of you, get ready.

We met Gerry's friend, Ariane, at the restaurant. She is a co-chef and owner of another restaurant in Paris. (Alas, we didn't have an opportunity to try her fare while we were there: it is a lunch and Thursday evening place. Aimee and Mom: remind me and we'll make a reservation for when we're in Paris.)
The company of new friends and the conversation were both lively and the evening left me extremely satisfied and glowing in the soul - and stomach.

We began with a wine cocktail much like the St. Germaine cocktails from NYE. The table quickly decided that we would order four entrées, (appetizers - America, what the heck? Why change the meaning to main dish?) four main dishes, a bottle of red and a number of desserts all to share.

Entrées:
 1) a shallow, wide bowl of clams and mussels in a cream sauce with a split bone displaying browned marrow. That sauce. Not heavy, not watery deserving of being soaked up with bread and finished, which we did.
2) pâté in a perimeter of fat and displayed like a goodly slice of bread the size of your palm. This was good, though too... something... For my taste (too compactly organ-y?), though it was still tasty on French baguette.
3) pig trotters. These did not look as I anticipated. Rather, it looked and felt on the tongue, like a sort of finely sliced and chopped ham with a bit of egg white mixed in - a bit jellied in texture. Also good on bread.
4) foie gras. This was served in a flaky, thin pie crust type shell smaller than said palm. It was tender, savory and wonderful. I own that in the past I have felt consternation about some methods used for creating liver for foie gras. I still don't intend to eat it often, only when I go to Paris. And when I do eat it in the future I am resolved to enjoy it completely.

Le Plat Principal:
1) black pudding (or blood pudding) perched in a sea of creamy whipped potatoes. Satisfying, hearty, not too heavy.
2) calf's head with vegetables. Despite the name, an entire calf's noggin was not brought to the table. Ariane explained that the meat parts are often all taken and flattened and then rolled up into what I imagined to look like a jelly roll before being sliced into rounds. The dish, overall, (spoonful of broth, veg, and meat) tasted like wholesome homemade soup. The only thing that gave me pause was a small piece of meat I ate that was, I believe, the tongue. Consciously seeing and identifying the surface as having taste buds before putting it in my mouth changed my frame of mind a bit and somehow made it less desirable for chewing and swallowing. I am unlikely to order tongue as a dish in its own right probably ever. Though I'd still try it. And it still tasted good.
3) scallops with a celery risotto. Tender, tasty.
4) skate. A tasty fish dish.

Dessert:
1) some sort of mushroom nougat ice cream dish. It was a little bigger than a film canister. A strong flavor but dried earthy mushroom is not my preferred taste for dessert.
2) French French toast. (Note: that is how it was translated on the menu. The direct translation from French means 'lost bread'.)
This, ladies and gentlemen, is not your mother's French toast. It is light, thick, crispy on both sides, slightly sweet in the bread, possessing a hint of brulee flavor. It is transcendental. Made from a fresh brioche and eggs, milk, a bit of sugar and a pan (I believe).
After a few minutes, despite our full stomaches, Ariane and I agreed we needed to order another  for just the two of us. Words fall short. (There was a bit of ice cream on the side of the plate which never had a chance to shine with such a companion.)

A bit more walking to settle our meal and then back to Gerry's and bed.


1/23

Breakfast at Gerry's! She ran out to get fresh pastries- small sucrettes (Dunkin' Donuts' donut hole's more sophisticated older cousin), croissants, pan au chocolat, some sort of almond concoction- conversation and coffee.

We spent the day at Versailles. Opulence, canopy beds and giant paintings of rulers and war.
For some reason I was visualizing stepping off of the train and walking the 15 minutes to Versailles down a road splitting the great expanse of the grounds. Versailles is, unsurprisingly- but in my heart a little disappointingly-, a living modern city. Ah fantasy.

Back in Paris we walked for several hours, at one point finding cubes of different flavors of marshmallow. (Not on the ground. In a pastry shop.)

Then, dinner.

The second night we went to a restaurant called Le Cotte Roti. Waiter with a kind face and large smile.
This night, beef ravioli, egg, and duck liver seared for entrée. The seared foie gras was so delicate. Browned on just two surfaces. The remainder almost melted in one's mouth. Tres tres bonne.
For the main, pork shoulder and lentils; tender, tender but crispy lamb and a mushroon lasagna made by layering flat, thin, homemade pasta with mushrooms (too small or reduced or chopped to see) in a brown slightly salty/ savory/ delicious brown sauce. Tied for my favorite with the foie gras. I took smaller and smaller bites to savor the flavor; fish and chips the French way: a light fish with a crispy breading that looking like the consistency of the spines on a horse chestnut served with a tomatoey salsa.
For dessert a light meringue (think cubed meringue from a lemon meringue pie rather than baked crispy meringue) in a milky custard sauce with fiber optic spun sugar perched on top like a fascinator. Also some sort of caramel dish that did not make as much of an impression.

Home and to sleep and launder and pack for the last day and next train.