Paris Journal 2014 – Barbara Joy Cooley      Home: barbarajoycooley.com

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When Tom sent off a re-written chapter to his publisher yesterday afternoon, there was no Tour de France stage to watch – it was a “rest day” for the Tour.  So I talked him into going to see the Marks and Spencer, and the rest of the new Beaugrenelle shopping mall, with me.

 

One level of the Marks & Spencer is a beautiful grocery store.  While it is a bit far away to be our regular, everyday grocery, I’m sure we will use it sometimes.  The selections are not the same old, same old things you find in all the Parisian groceries (there’s a definite British influence in M&S), and there are things we’re accustomed to, like coffee from South America instead of Africa, that we’d like to have.

 

Because we were only at the beginning of our walk, and because we would be going to dinner directly from Beaugrenelle, we did not buy groceries at M&S yesterday. 

 

I gave Tom the tour of the rest of the big center.  Upon seeing the big mobile hanging in the middle of Magnetic, Tom said, “I sure hope the artist wasn’t paid a huge amount of money for that thing.”

 

We thoroughly explored the FNAC outpost, as well as the Maisons du Monde store where almost everything seemed to be made in China. 

 

In the kitchen section of Maisons du Monde, I found a cute and very well-made, substantial chef’s apron on sale – fifty percent off!  It was made in India, not China.  I bought it for only 8 euros.  I do cook breakfast and lunch at the apartment, although each of those meals is very, very limited in size due to our proclivity for eating dinner out at restaurants.

 

Anyway, the apron was much needed.  I hope that our friends who own the apartment will like it.  I’d take it with me, but I plan to buy a Zonta apron when I go home in the fall – if there are any left!

 

Last week, the leeks at Dia were so huge and gorgeous that I had to buy two.  And Dia has packets of a few slices of delectable Serrano ham for only 2 euros.  Late last week, for lunch one day, I sautéed leeks with garlic and Serrano ham, using olive oil, white wine and seasonings of freshly ground pepper (white, red, and black) and freshly ground sea salt.  The garnish was finely grated brebis cheese.  There’s no recipe; it came right out of my imagination.

 

Tom loved it.

 

For me, cooking is a challenge in a kitchen as small as this one – and this one is not small by Paris (or Manhattan) standards.  It is fairly medium.  Two of the things I miss most about our Florida home, when we’re in Paris, are my big kitchen and my big bathtub.  I know, I’m such an American . . . .

 

So I don’t cook much here, but I just can’t not cook at all.  Lunch is usually a salad, made with interesting things thrown in, like smoked almonds and diced pears.  Vinaigrette is something like olive oil, red wine vinegar, local honey, and freshly ground sea salt and peppers.  A clove or two of garlic is freshly grated into the salad as well.

 

Breakfast includes one egg for each of us.  The eggs I bought most recently came from Fromagerie Thomas. 

 

 

The brand name, La Poule Heureuse, means “the happy hen,” of course.  Tom thinks that because the French are so fond of using puns and double meanings, that this may be a reference to the use of “poule” as slang for prostitute.  So then the other meaning would be “the happy hooker.”  Maybe he’s right, I don’t know.

 

But I love the old-fashioned (and recyclable) pressed paper/cardboard carton, with the bucolic scene on top.  Gros” means large, by the way, and the expiration date, 01/08 means August 1 – day comes first here, then month.  Day-month-year is a far more logical progression, if you think about it, than the month-day-year order that we use in the U.S.

 

The phrase under the bucolic scene means “eggs from hens raised in open air,” or, eggs from free-range chickens, in English.

 

They’re good eggs, but the yolks break far more easily than in the eggs I buy in Florida.  Eggs are usually brown here; white is more uncommon.

 

The weather is finally warming up, so I’ll probably cook even less.  On Friday, the high temperature might even reach 90 degrees F!

 

The sun broke through the clouds and blasted me with a little solar heat shortly after we were seated by the window at the Restaurant Stephane Martin yesterday evening.  Within a few minutes, the sun disappeared behind the buildings across the street.

 

We’ve dined at Stephane Martin’s numerous times over the years.  The signature dish of the house is a pork shoulder roast served over red cabbage that’s been cooked in honey.  It is a dish for two people.

 

One disincentive for ordering it is that it is too much food for two people.  I once saw a family of five sharing one of these “jarret de porc” plates.   Families with kids can get away with almost anything.

 

In the states, a huge meal isn’t so much of a problem because we can ask for a box to take the leftovers home.  That generally is not done in Europe, or at least not in France.

 

So I was surprised to read on the Stephane Martin page on lafourchette.com that the restaurant encourages people who cannot finish their jarret to ask to take it home (“Si vous commandez le jarret de porc et que vous ne le terminez pas, demandez à l'emporter!”)

 

Well, okay, then.  I thought, “this is good to know!”  While I was sorely tempted by the red mullet or sea bass (Filet de rouget barbet, asperges sauvages tomates cerises et cresson; Dos de maigre et poêlée de légumes du soleil), Tom wanted the dish for two, the jarret de porc.

 

As we lingered briefly over two complementary hors d’oeuvres (dish of mixed olives and pearl onions, salmon rillettes with tiny toasts), we studied the menu.

 

We decided to start with the fricassée de girolles aux abricots moelleux et amandes fraiches (fricassee of girolle mushrooms with soft apricots and fresh almond slivers).  Now that was a fabulous choice – it was scrumptious!  And beautiful.

 

Then came the magic act:  how to get the two big plates, big platter of pork roast and red cabbage, and urn of honey/juice sauce onto an undersized, little, square table?  It was a tight squeeze, and it did make the dinner a little awkward and tense.

 

I think the restaurant needs to re-think this.  More efficiently sized and shaped plates and platter would seem to be the best solutions.

 

Years ago, a server here told us that this dish, the jarret de porc, is a specialty of the chef, Stephane Martin, who is from Limoges.  But this jarret de porc with red cabbage is an Alsatian dish.  Alsace is far from Limoges. 

 

Yesterday, I saw the answer to this riddle in a Wikipedia article about Limoges.  During the Holocaust, Jewish families were evacuated from Alsace and relocated in Limoges.  Of course, practicing Jews who keep Kosher do not eat pork.  But in the Holocaust, it didn’t matter if you were practicing your religion or not; being Jewish was an ethnic distinction in the eyes of the Nazis, not a religious one. 

 

So non-practicing Jews would have brought their favorite local cuisine to the area where they relocated.  Hence, Stephane Martin’s jarret de porc.

 

Years ago, we were told that Stephane is married to a woman from Martinique.  I once had a little glass of very special rum from Martinique that was given to me, on the house, at this resto.  I still remember it.

 

But last night, I saw no Martinique connections on the menu.  I hope the couple is still together.

 

I did have to ask for pepper to spice up the pork and cabbage.  Some Caribbean seasoning, just a touch, would be nice!

 

Tom had initially ordered a clafouti (cherries baked in a custard-like batter) for dessert.  But the head waiter wisely talked him into a raspberry shortbread biscuit with vanilla whipped cream instead (sablé aux framboises et crème vanillée).  It was lighter than the clafouti, and it was refreshingly delicious – just the right finish to follow the substantial main course.

 

After dinner, we collected our nicely boxed leftovers and little shopping bag, then strolled along the few blocks back to the apartment.  We passed the Commerce Café, which was buzzing with activity.  The long terrasse was full of chattering locals who were mostly smoking and drinking, but some were eating.  Diners tend to go inside now, to avoid the smokers.  Food at this café is very reasonably priced, so it is popular.

 

Back at the apartment, we examined the latest site plan from the engineer, for Cooley Hammock back home.  Sweet dreams.

 

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Wednesday, July 16, 2014

 

Southern Magnolia in bloom in the Square Ajaccio.

 

 

Cubist caryatids decorate the doorway of an interesting 1926 building by the architect Lucien Bechman  at 8 avenue de Lowendal.

 

 

This plaque, like so many in Paris, marks the horrible fact that Jewish children were taken from this elementary school and deported to death camps from 1942 to 1944, innocent victims of Nazi barbarism with the complicity of the Vichy government.  What is unique about this sign, on a school located on the avenue de la Motte-Picquet, is that it was installed so very recently – only in February 2013.  I wonder what took so long for this one?

 

Girolle mushroom fricassee with apricots and almonds.

 

The pork shoulder roast with red cabbage, slow cooked in honey.  I’ve made this dish at home, pretty much copying exactly the one we’ve had at Stephane Martin.  Difference:  American butchers trim more of the fat away from this cut.

 

Fresh raspberries and honey on vanilla-flavored whipped cream atop a homemade shortbread biscuit.  Yumm!

 

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