Wife's blog showed the sites of Paris so I have to talk about the food. I know, you can't believe I'm going to talk about the food. Take a moment to get over the shock and then continue reading.
Before we get to the Parisian food, though, I have good news. I had an excellent hamburger in London on the night before we left for Paris. We had dinner at Hard Rock Café before we saw Spam-a-lot and I couldn't resist a burger. I was in heaven. It wasn't quite as good as a J. Alexander's burger, but definitely up there with Chili's or 810 Zone. But at that moment it was the most perfect burger on earth. It's surprising to me that something as simple as a really good burger is one of the things I miss most. But now I know where to go to get one!
So having sated my desire for some American food it was time to check out what the French had to offer. I'd been to Paris before, but the eating was definitely a mixed result. I was hoping for better results this time.
Things started off well. After getting to Paris from London via the Eurostar (highly recommended mode of travel) we checked into our hotel between the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe. Dropping our bags as quickly as possible we headed out for a walk. Starting toward the Arc we hung a right on the Champs Elysee. We walked for a while before my stomach got jealous that my eyes were seeing all these great sites but it didn't have anything to chew on.
Having a penchant for the excellent baguettes in Paris it was fitting that our first meal was from a sandwich shop. Wife had a baguette with chicken, lettuce, tomato, and mayo and I had ham and butter. The fillings didn't really matter, though. The baguettes made the sandwich. Crispy crust, chewy interior. Heaven in bread form. For something sweet I had a raspberry tart that was the perfect end to a light lunch. Off to a good start in the eating for sure.
We pause here for an observation: Have you ever looked at a map of Paris and thought: "It really doesn't look that far from the Arc de Triomphe to the Louvre"? If you have you were wrong! We got to the western edge of the Jardin des Tuileries after walking for at least a half an hour and we were only half way to the Louvre. That's the problem with straight streets. When you can see your destination it doesn't seem nearly as far as it really is. Especially when there's a minor slope involved so you can see even farther than you normally would.
Back to the original culinary discussion: Of course after that long of a walk I was famished. Okay, so I wasn't famished but the crepes looked good and we were on vacation. Now get off my back.
Crepes + Nutella = Ultimate sweet snack! I could have eaten two but Wife talked some sense into me, though after what I ate later I think she would have been happy for me to fill up on crepes. I'm getting ahead of myself though.
We sat in the park for a while for a rest and digestion and then soldiered on. Walking almost to the Louvre we hung another right toward the river. After walking along the river for a short distance we crossed the Pont Neuf bridge to the Ile de la Cite (yes, that's the bridge in the Bourne Identity after Jason contacts Treadstone). By this point I was getting kind of tired so I don't remember the island as well, though it was a very nice neighborhood.
For those with sensitive dispositions please skip this paragraph: Okay, I was sparing the sensitive in that last paragraph. I wasn't that tired. What I really needed was a restroom. I swear the French do not urinate. Even at the busiest tourist attractions the restrooms are hidden or non-existent. And they're not as friendly to McDonald's so you can't rely on that either. This must be why so many people died when it got so hot last year. They're programmed to stay slightly dehydrated because you can't find a public restroom to save your life.
Now that the readers who were silly enough to read the last paragraph have either gone to another web page or are finished we'll continue.
Despite any tiredness I was feeling we kept going. Notre Dame was close and we were tourists on a mission. From the outside Notre Dame is not really that imposing. Impressive, yes, but looking at it does not give one a sense of size. The city is so close around it that it is difficult to grasp the size of it. Also, I didn't get the sense of age from it that I've gotten from other churches. I'm not quite sure why this was. Even walking around inside of it I never got the sense of history that I've gotten from other places.
Maybe that was because of the number of tourists in the church. It's very different from other old churches that I've visited in that there isn't the reverence for being in a holy place that you get when you're in Italy or England. In the end I just didn't feel as impressed as I thought it would.
On that somewhat anticlimactic note we headed back to our hotel to relax for a bit before dinner. Unfortunately that wasn't as simple as we thought it would be. After getting on two different trains going the wrong direction we finally got turned around the right way and made it back. Ahhh, the adventures of travel in a non-English speaking country.
Our second foray into the city that evening was much more relaxed. We got as far as the corner café just down from our hotel on the Trocadero for a beer and then went to a brasserie one corner over for dinner. That's where the real adventure began.
We'd walked around for a bit looking for a place to eat, looking at menus, trying to catch a hint of the smells emanating from the kitchens to see if they picqued our appetites. The place we chose had just what we were looking for: good smelling steak frites, outdoor seating, and reasonable prices (at least for Paris). We sat down and a waiter brought us menus.
The great thing about countries like France and Italy is that you can walk into almost any restaurant and order the house wine with fair confidence that you're going to get some good wine. Nothing that will blow your socks off but that will go with food very well. This brasserie was no exception. The Cotes du Rhone Villages was excellent and also two Euros cheaper, for a half liter, than the beer I had earlier.
While we sipped our wine and perused the menu the sounds of Paris in the evening played in the background. The silent clatter of cutlery against dishes, conversations in a language we couldn't understand, people walking home from work or to a night out. It was picturesque. If only it had stayed that way.
Wife decided to have the steak frites, which I was going to have, but I felt the need for us to have different meals for more taste choices so I picked something different. Oh, the choices one makes in life. The good ones (marrying Wife), the neither here nor there ones (sausage or mushrooms on the pizza?), the regretted ones (Andouillette sausage). "Andouillette sausage?" you ask. "I've had that in jambalaya. It's good." No, that would be Andouille. Subtle difference, but subtlety in name does not imply subtlety in form. Wikipedia can explain much better than me:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andouillette.
Yes, my friends, I ate some of this sausage. Wife couldn't even stand to look at it. Me, wanting to be sure that I didn't like it and wasn't missing something incredible, ate almost half of it. The texture I encountered was more soft than rubbery, but the cross section looked truly disgusting. Do you remember in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom when they cut into the big snake at dinner and all the little snakes come slithering out? Cutting into this sausage made me think a little bit of that. Not to mention that there was definitely a slight fecal matter bouquet.
After getting about half way through it I gave up. Wife gave me a bit of her steak so I wouldn’t leave hungry and continued ignoring the disgusting lump on my plate. When we were finished she said she would have given me her whole steak when she saw the cross section after I cut into the sausage. I think she was more disappointed for me about the whole ordeal than I really was. She knows how much I enjoy food and felt bad that I had lost one of my chances for a good meal while in Paris.
Wow, this got a little longer than I was planning. I'll write more about the Saturday when I get a chance.
Cheers,
Frog
