1966. Spring. HG/BSK were accompanied by precocious, articulate, two-year-old daughter, Lesley. The exchange rate was very favorable. The family stayed at the charming Left Bank hotel, Pont Royal, on the Rue du Bac. HG/BSK were beguiled by the tiny elevator with its brass ornamentation (could baely fit a suitcase onto it). Had a pleasant, cozy suite with a separate little bed for Lesley (who would have sneered at a childish crib). The hotel atmosphere was shabby bohemian (HG/BSK’s dream of Paris). HG/BSK didn’t know that the downstairs bar was a literary hangout where Sartre, Simone De Beauvoir, Truman Capote, Arthur Koestler and others held forth over carafes of cheap wine. HG/BSK and Lesley walked along the Seine, visited museums, shopped in boutiques. BSK scored a short leather jacket and print dress and soon fit in very nicely with the very pretty Parisiennes. Lesley was much admired at the cafes for her enchanting, curly topped cuteness. Devoured Croque Monsieurs with a hearty appetite. HG/BSK left Lesley with an American student babysitter when they had their first great Paris meal. It was at a long gone bistro on the Boulevard St. Germain. HG/BSK shared an appetizer of smoked salmon and a half bottle of chilled Chablis. Delectable. And, then came a dish of a lifetime, never to be duplicated. The waiter brought fat, white spring asparagus wrapped in a linen cloth. There was a bowl of Sauce Mousseline (Hollandaise mixed with whipped cream). Lush food. Main was a bistro classic: Gigot (leg of springtime lamb) cooked rare and accompanied by flageolets. Drank Moulin a Vent (delicious Beaujolais slightly chilled). Perfection. Dessert was wild strawberries served with a pitcher of sweet cream. A spring dream. The meal was a harbinger of the great feasting HG/BSK enjoyed at cozy Paris bistros and lively brasseries for the next 49 years. HG’s appetite for Paris has never diminished.
More photos, please. By the way, MJ and I are in Morella Spain.
Enough travel. Get back to Santa Fe. Been too long. Miss you and MJ.