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Paris, France
To Market, To MarketThe rue de Bretagne became my favorite marketing street when we lived in the Marais. Beautiful pastries turned my head when I walked by La Fougasse. The breads were wonderful, the savory tartelettes delicious, and the chocolate candies laden with the sweet and slightly bitter taste of good ingredients. It was my treat to stop in but my dilemma to decide what to buy. 3rd Arrondissement. Metro: Filles du Calvaire – Republique. La Fougasse For the lovers of cheese, Jouannault Maitre Fromager is a worthy find. (Remember Jim’s infamous line of something smelling bad here?) The impressive display of frommage has such a selection that it can almost seem intimidating, if you don’t know the varities. Don’t fear. The sellers, who look officially crisp in their white smocks, can guide you through. Don’t forget your butter, milk, and eggs while you’re there. 3rd Arrondissement. Metro: Filles du Calvaire – Republique. Jouannault Maitre Fromager The windows of Vincent Garcia were another deadly mine to cross. The mountains of meringues—puffy clouds of chocolate brown, strawberry pink, and mocha caramel—piled high behind the glass forced me to press my forehead against it and look in. Perfect as can be, the chocolate was my favorite, and a spring green figue whispered my name and called me in. The fig was actually green marzipan covering a moist rum cake…Umm…Even their sandwiches have just the right amount of mayonnaise on the good baguette. 3rd Arrondissement. Metro: St Sebastien Froissart. Vincent Garcia
B. Bernard
Ville de Paris * Marche Des Enfants Rouge, |
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Copyright © 2005 James Morgan & Beth Arnold. All rights reserved
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I
enjoy a well-cooked bird and have as long as I can remember. Chicken to quail,
duck to turkey, there’s hardly a bird I meet I don’t like. Jim is
the same, a bird-lover from way back. We cook great birds ourselves…Oh,
to have a piece of Jim’s grilled chicken now. One of the great joys of
Paris is passing by a rotisserie with hot meat broiling and filling the air with
mouth-watering aromas. Even if dinner is planned, I want to chuck it and buy
a chicken or a rack of pork ribs instead. One of my favorite rotisseries is in
the Marais, and I call the proprietor, Rotisserie Man. He is a master. The chickens
are perfect, the turkeys to die for, and the chapon (capon), well, it’s
a bird of a different flavor, not to mentioned the stuffed birds. He roasts all
with finesse. A rotisserie bird in France is Heaven, and that makes Monsieur
Bernard a rotisserie god. 3rd Arrondissement. Metro : Filles du Calvaire or Republique.