Paris, Soup and Book Hunting (pt 2)

Wednesday began with another clear, warm sky. Susie and I again took our time in rousing ourselves, letting the day evolve quietly and at its own pace.

In fact we didn't leave the apartment until nearly noon, since our next two primary food objectives were nearby.

After coffee, breakfast, showering and getting dressed (the latter particularly important to walking the streets of Paris), Susie and I left the apartment and strolled down Avenue Parmentier toward Place Leon Blum. We crossed the Place and turned down Avenue Ledru Rollin (buried in division 4, Pere Lachaise BTW), heading toward rue Charonne, where we turned right. (photo: browsing the puppet shop window along rue Saint Louis en ilse.

Just a few doors up this very old street (in fact it was the main road from the village of Charonne into the capital, entering at or near the Bastille) we found our first objective:"Le Bar a soupes." Started by a young woman who was impressed with the soup bars in London, the striking yellow front was hard to miss. We walked inside and were greeted like old friends. After a quick tour of the soups of the day -- all made fresh every morning as are the desserts and ice tea -- we made our choice and picked a table near the front window, overlooking the street.

Susie ordered the tomato-ginger and I had chickpeas (with bits of raisins). We also opted for the formule, which gave us a little cheese as well as drinks and dessert, and all for less than 10 euros a person! The food was, to say it again, incredible. Service was friendly and the ambiance worth a stop in its own right: lovely large canvases of "grosses legumes" dotted the walls, which only added to the feel of being in a tiny country guest house.

After a relaxing lunch watching the Parisian world slip quietly by us, we paid our bill and walked back out into the sunlight. Back at Avenue Ledru Rollin we turned right and walked a few short blocks to rue du Fauburg Saint Antoine, where we turned left and then made a quick right onto rue Vollon. We quickly found what we were looking for: "Ble Sucre." Located at no. 7 rue Vollon, Ble Sucre is a pastry shop (of course) and yet another Clotilde suggestion. Susie bought a couple of small bags, one of chocolate sablee and the other of mini palmiers, and we headed back home.

A short walk back up Avenue Ledru Rollin and across the Place Leon Blum we were soon back in the apartment where we took a short break in our edible adventures.

After our short Intermezzo, Susie and I both grabbed our walking shoes, the backpack, our weekly Metro pass and headed back out onto the streets of Paris.

We walked down rue du Chemin Vert, just around the corner from our apartment, all the way to the end at Blvd. Beaumarchais, where we turned left and then a quick right onto a familiar street, rue du Pas de la Mule. We were now officially in the 3rd arrondissement, home to some of the more trendy, up and coming shops, residences and spaces in the city -- but still a cool place to get an idea of what old Paris, at least pre-Haussmann Paris was like. With it's tiny, curving streets, meandering along the Marais ("marsh") neighborhood has much to offer the casual stroller.

But we were back on a quest and no lallygagging for us. No siree. After skirting the Place des Vosges and passing through several waves of tourists, like us probably striving to find some sort of peace of mind in a city that tempts you with such things, we came to the corner of rue de Sevigne and rue des Francs Bourgeois (which were on in fact, Pas de la Mule becoming Francs Bourgeois). We had arrived at the Musee Carnavalet, once the residence of Madame Sevigne and now the home to the museum of the city of Paris.

Having explored this wonderful space on numerous occasions in the past, my goal today was singular: a quick browse through the museum bookstore. I was rewarded with a discovery of Michel Dansel's Au Pere-Lachaise: son histoire, ses secrets, ses promenades, the nouvelle edition.

From the Carnavalet we headed south, crossing into the 4th arr. and walked down to the rue Saint Antoine, where we stopped in and took a peek at St. Paul. One can only imagine the sights those stones have seen, the things they have witnessed along this very old street. After exiting the church we wended our way through the back streets heading for the Seine where we crossed over to the Isle Saint Louis. we strolled up the rue Saint Louis, running virtually the length of this island, what had once been a quiet place to graze sheep and crossed over the Isle de la Cite and Notre Dame.

We left the church to other seekers of truth. Although we did stop to identify the old street marks out in front of the church on the pavement that hardly anyone looks at -- they are in fact looking up at the church -- marks identifying the spaces we had seen in the daguerreotypes in the Orsay a fews back, we left the island walked toward the Place St. Michel and Gibert Jeune, one of Paris' largest bookstores. In fct, they are a collection of bookstores all clustered together around the Place St. Michel, each store designed around a different topical theme: science, literature etc.

Again with the quizzical looks when I asked about Paris cemeteries, between Susie and I we found the shelf with what we were looking for -- sadly all books I've already found before, although they did have one devoted just to photographs of how trees in Pere Lachaise have sometimes taken it upon themselves to devour the ironwork around some of the grave sites. A little too specialized for my tastes.

From Place St. Michel we strolled back streets down toward St. Germain des Pres, with no particular objective in mind. Along the way we came across a superb jazz trio playing on the street and stopped to hear a few songs before they broke and we moved on.

Eventually we came in behind this very ancient structure, St. Germain des Pres, and found a table at a nearby cafe. Wedged between a Russian couple on one side -- who could only communicate with the staff in English -- and a young American woman with her Rick Steves guide at the ready -- we felt truly at home.

We ordered two glasses of Mentou-Salon, a delicious white wine we had come to appreciate when we first came to Paris over two years ago, and sat and sipped and watched the world. And in Paris that can be a full time jib, believe me. One thing we have noticed is that more places, like this cafe, where they bring the bottle to the table and pour the glass there, rather than bring you a glass already poured. Interesting.

We sat and talked, watched, sipped and enjoyed being alive and in Paris.

At a little past seven we paid the bill and strolled down rue Bonapartre in the direction of St. Sulpice, which we found still undergoing major renovation, and onto the Luxembourg gardens, passing the Hungarian Institute along the way.

We turned into the gardens and walked to the other side, to the Blvd. Saint Michel entrance, where we exited and then crossed the boulevard over onto rue Gay-Lussac (buried in division 26 Pere Lachaise) and looked for "Les Papilles," and our dinner.

A short stroll up the rue Gay-Lussac and we were standing outside of no. 30, a wine shop and restaurant. We walked inside and were seated near the front, beneath the many shelves of wines -- French of course. The menu was a fixed four-course meal, no choices, no substitutions and yuou could choose your wine from any in the shop and for a nominal corkage charge (7 euros) they would pour it for you. The staff is small, serious, friendly and yet very businesslike. We asked for a wine suggestion and were presented with an incredible white burgundy (34 euros).

Not long after we were seated, two men from Salt Lake City were seated next to us (coincidence?), and the four of us chatted amiably throughout the evening, mostly about food and largely about France.

The meal was itself superb. A celery soup with bits of pork belly and fruit in the bottom, which came in a large tureen, a nice touch.. Next up were chicken pieces with a pasta, all together in a large pot, again brought to the table and shared by the two of us. This was followed by a cheese course and for dessert was a simple small glass of mascarpone with apples, almonds and pistachios mixed in.

A grand meal to be sure.

We said au revoir to our hosts and to the two guys from Utah -- they were heading up Gay-Lussac and were heading down toward the Cluny Metro to get the no. 10 to Austerlitz, where we changed to the no. 5 and got off at Richard Lenoir and home.