Paris

A few decades ago, my sister and I went to Paris at Christmas to see the legendary holiday decorations. Galleria Lafayette was near the top of our not-to-miss list. On the top floor was a collection of Kiosks set up just for the 30 days before Christmas that offered food for shoppers that were hungry and tired. The room was loud, too warm, and packed full of holiday shoppers but Petrossian's smoked salmon looked too good to miss so, we sat down at a tall stool and preceded to order 2 plates of salmon and 2 coupes of Champagne. We planned on just having the salmon and continuing on with our day...We sure were wrong! The smoked salmon arrived, completely covering the large 10-inch Limoge plate, hand-sliced, surprisingly thick, a pot of creme fraiche, and a plate of blinis and two coupes.

I remember taking that first bite – the room around me disappeared in a fog. I no longer was aware of the sound of the holiday shoppers, it was just those blissful mouthfuls of smoked salmon and sips of Bollinger Champagne. Our food had stopped the movement of time – looking at my Sister when the plate was empty we didn't need to say anything because we both knew we had to find the "Mother Store." We had to find the source! What else awaited us?

Our excitement builds as our tiny Peugeot navigates the streets of Paris heading for rue du Cherche-Midi and my mecca, Poilane. Poilane is an extrordinary bakery that I had been reading about and I knew well ahead of time exactly what I was going to buy. It was early morning in Paris and the streets were not bustling yet. Just a gentle calm with only the sparse activity of a few Parisians heading to market. We parked the car within sight of Poilane and got out.

The classic storefront is natural finished wood with a large polished brass door handle, I pushed the door open to a heavenly scent of baking butter. The store was starting to be filled with their famous large round pain au levain breads, pastries and only two other customers. I spin around taking it all in – the large rounds of bread with the big P cut into the dough before it is baked, the tarte de pomme are lined up like little soldiers, cello bags of round butter cookies known as sables and the smell of the chasson de pomme fill the air as they are baking.

An excerpt from  "Hungry for Paris"

Some ten years ago, I went to dinner one night with no expectations. A London newspaper had asked me to write about Lapérouse, an old warhorse of a restaurant overlooking the Seine on the Left Bank—it was doing historic Paris restaurants, and this one’s been around forever. I politely suggested that there might be better candidates, because as far as I knew, this place was still a slumbering tourist table flogging its past: it has several charming tiny private dining rooms with badly scratched mirrors—as the legend goes, these cuts were made by ladies testing the veracity of newly offered diamonds (real diamonds cut glass).

The editor was unyielding, so off I went. The stale-smelling dining room was mostly empty on a winter night, and though the young mâitre d’hôtel was unexpectedly charming and gracious, I was more interested by my friend Anne’s gossipy accounts of a recent visit to Los Angeles than I was by the menu.

While things change so fast in this world, there are still places where time stands still. The face of Paris changes faster every year that I visit and not always for the better. There are more and more fast food chains, pasta restaurants, pizza sellers and Asian takeaway because everyone wants to eat quickly and run somewhere...

At L'Ami Jean time has stopped, it is old fashioned, handcrafted French/Basque cuisine. The restaurant has an aged yellowed patina with acorn fed Spanish hams hanging from the rafter with an inviting glow that welcomes you. The menu changes daily and the ingredients could not be better sourced or fresher! Whatever they make is always breathtaking!

Brasserie Lipp is a magical place to me that has maintained its integrity for well over 131 years. Not much has changed with the decor, food or with the waitstaff since I was a small child. There are waiters that have been there every day for 40 years, rapidly shuffling along, flat feet and all, with huge trays of covered dishes. I love this place, period! They have a thick Parisian attitude which means that it could take years for them to notice or acknowledge you, but when they finally do they never forget you no matter how far back in line you may be standing. The waters parts and you are summoned to the head of the line like royalty has arrived as everyone moves quickly out of the way with a confused look on their face as they try to figure out "who you are" that they are making such a fanfare over.

When was the last time you ate something that made time stop and took you back to your childhood? Berthillon  in Paris is a dreamy ice cream shop on the Isle St. Louis that will do just that...They make the World’s best hot fudge sundae, period!

There are so many choices of ice cream and sorbets, that are all freshly made in-house. The ice cream case is filled with colors and texture like a Tiffany’s jewelry case without the armed guard. Most well-heeled patrons can hardly decide, pointing, discussing and trying small spoonfuls. Not me.

I always have Tahitian Vanilla, full of tiny crunchy seeds and I always have three "boules." Next comes the chocolate sauce, Valhrona of course, just the right temperature, not too hot just perfectly warm, served with a small pot filled with extra sauce. 

The Isle St. Louis is like the Nantucket of Paris. One of the ancient islands in the middle of the Seine, with Notre Dame at its tip and many picturesque bridges connecting it to the Left and Right Banks, its narrow streets are quaint and relatively free of traffic, with a concentration of shops and galleries; therefore, it tends to be much populated by Americans, who don’t seem to have been discouraged either by the metro strike or by the plunging dollar from flocking there.