February 19th, 2011 § § permalink
The Yiddish word is “haimish.” It means homey, down home, warm, friendly, relax-you’re- with- family. “Haimish” is the apt description of La Boule Rouge, the Tunisian-Jewish couscous restaurant where HG and BSK dined last night. “Dined” is wrong. “Gorged” is more like it. Even Miss Moderation BSK overate. The meal started with the table covered with salads and an unsweetened cake of cheese and hard boiled eggs. Then came a platter of perfect couscous; a caldron of robust broth with carrots, zucchini, turnips, sweet potatoes; a super-big portion of lamb shoulder with chickpeas; black beans in an an unusual, addictive Middle Eastern sauce; pinto beans in another tasty sauce. Bowls of pungent, but not too blazing harissa. The wine was Tavel. The meal ended with mint tea and honeyed, pistachio pastries. BSK staggered and moaned. “I ate the whole thing. I’m going to die.” BSK survived and had some croissants, English marmalade and Greek yogurt for breakfast. The stomach (as Woody Allen commented about the heart), is a very resilient organ. 
Friday (Day Seven) started with heavy rain which continued on and off. Not to worry. Hats and raincoats. Unfurled umbrellas. HG and BSK were off to the far reaches of the posh 16th to see the great Monet show at the Musee Marmottan. (A wonderful walk through elegant little parks and squares surrounded by the opulent apartment dwellings of the very rich). All of the museum’s 137 Monets were on display plus works of his pals and mentors—Renoir, Morisot, etc. A startling show. Yes, there were water lilies. But, there were wonderful portraits, caricatures and the full range of his paintings of the pond and garden at Giverny. Flowers. Weeping willows. The Japanese bridge.
Back to Montmartre to Cave des Abbesses for oysters and wine. On the carte tonight at Chez HG and BSK is Italian bufala mozzarellla. Piquillo peppers. Jambon Persille. Jambon blanc. Salad of poached eggs, lardons, lettuce and white anchovies. Palmiers. Creme brulee. Camembert. Pinot Noir. Oh, well. C’est la vie.
February 17th, 2011 § § permalink
Can it be? Oui!! Mon Dieu!! (end of extremely limited French). Sunshine. A Parisian rarity. A sunny February day. Lunch scheduled at Chez Grenouille (so good… had to go back…a report later). Shall HG and BSK stroll in the Luxembourg Gardens and admire the Zadkine sculptures? Or Place des Vosges? Or Canal St. Martin? Wine authority and journalist/author par excellence Peter Hellman suggests visit to food court at Galeries Lafayette department store for Spanish ham and other outstanding items. His word is HG’s command so a visit is scheduled for Saturday. Tonight is movie night: True Grit. Coen brothers are HG and BSK faves. Delights abound.
February 16th, 2011 § § permalink
Pompidou Centre today. Picasso, Giacometti, Arp, Brancusi, Leger, Braque, Matisse, Balthus, Bonnard, Gris, Chagall, Dufy, Dubuffet and all the other French greats and semi-greats (okay, many were born in Spain, Russia, etc.). Also, a new Rothko acquisition. Some thoughts: French art ran out of steam after Picasso and the Americans took over. Pompidou is wonderful. Beautifully lit and displayed and organized. But, compared to MOMA it is provincial. Balthus’s “Alice” remains shockingly pornographic. Laurens and Duchamp-Villon (not displayed very much in USA) give HG great pleasure.
Annoying dinner mishap. Arrived at Cave Beauvau, much touted wine bar, and found out they were not serving dinner. A mixup. Off to Le Vaudeville for briny oysters, Muscadet, a huge slice of cod with truffled potatoes. The best herring in Paris with warm potato salad. Favorite dessert (you’ll never guess): Ile Flottante. So, HG and BSK demolished hunger pangs in style.
February 14th, 2011 § § permalink
Off to the Pinocatheque de Paris for a day of art—selections from St. Petersburg’s Hermitage Museum, art collected by the Romanovs, and art collected by Hungary’s noble family, the Esterhazys. A joy. Paintings by Rembrandt, Titian, Steen, Hals, Rubens and many others never seen before in the west. The Pinocatheque also has a permanent collection which is eccentric but wonderful. First of all, paintings from all periods are hung together. And, they are hung closely, some only a foot or less apart. Rothko, Pollock (a stunning early work); Munch (a sun-washed nude… quite unlike his usual work); Van Gogh (a small, riveting work); Monet, Courbet, Delacroix,Vuillard, Bonnard, Soutine, Magritte, Leger, Derain, Roualt and other giants keep company with 15th, 16th and 17th century work.
HG and BSK found the interplay of styles and periods stimulating. Back to Montmartre for wine shopping at Cave des Abbesses. Wonderfully curated. Logically organized. Bargain prices. If HG lived in Paris permanently wine induced alcoholism would be a happy prospect. HG bought a baguette, croissants and a country grain and walnut loaf from Le Grenier a Pain, voted best baguette bakery in Paris. Of course, the bread is sublime. But, the croissants are a revelation. Buttery, crisp with a slightly moist interior. Tonight, it will be a pre-Valentine dinner at Le Stella, unquestionably the best brasserie in Paris. Full report to follow tomorrow. Bon appetit, buddies.
