HUNGRY GERALD

HG was reflecting on his Paris trip while spending a day in Rhode Island before returning to New Mexico. Here are some observations: HG does not understand the Paris reputation for arrogance and rudeness. HG/BSK were treated with unvarying friendliness and courtesy in every encounter. HG walks with a cane and could not enter a metro car without someone — male, female, old, young, French, African, Arab — offering the old guy a seat. With many, a “Merci beaucoup”, still vigorous HG declined the courteous offers….HG enjoys the grittier neighborhoods of Paris (Barbes-Rochechouart, Belleville, Strasbourg St. Denis, etc.) for the colorful street life and the abundance of very inexpensive, very tasty food. Didn’t get to 13e (site of the Paris Chinatown). Though no Flushing, this nabe offers a lot of restaurants that compare favorably to Manhattan’s Chinatown…HG pal Peter Hellman, author and wine expert (a frequent contributor to “Wine Spectator”), suggested HG dine in the food department of the Galeries Lafayette food department on Boulevard Hausmann. Good tip. HG knocked off a super lunch there at the fish eatery (oysters, a few oursins, prawns) while BSK and Beautiful Granddaughter Sofia did well with some caprese salad and other nibbles at an Italian themed niche. Am saving the Spanish ham counter for the next Paris visit…French yogurt is great way to start the morning…Escargots in the United States are insipid. For the real, great, robust stuff, get over to Bourgogne Sud in 9e. The biggest, bestest snails in the universe.

BSK and Beautiful Granddaughter Sofia were off taking advantage of the Paris sales day so HG ventured into gritty Arab/African Paris, the neighborhood around the Barbes-Rochechouart metro station. This is where the metro emerges from the underground and becomes elevated (very reminiscent of New York’s IRT on Jerome Avenue in The Bronx). Beneath the elevated metro tracks is a raucous, messy, colorful, lively, ludicrously inexpensive market. Enter and leave Paris behind. You are in Algiers or Tunis or Morocco or Lagos — a mad jumble of all of them. This is where Paris’s large working class immigrant population finds bargains in food, clothing and probably anything else legal or illegal that one could want. Much noisy haggling. HG left the market and poked into some the food shops on Rue Chapelle. Good looking chickens gently roasting on rotisseries; sheep heads treated the same way appeared appetizing (except for the very human white teeth smiling through the flames). Lots of lush dates, figs and olives. Freshly made Arab flat bread. Spices, rice and couscous galore. Made HG ravenous. Small restaurant, Jour et Nuit, looked promising. Peered inside. Lots of fat and jolly Arabs having a good time. Good vibes. No English spoken but HG greeted with warm smiles and seated at comfortable table. Ordered a sizzling, bubbling tagine of chicken with preserved lemons (plus tangy green olives and potatoes) and a side dish of couscous with copious rich broth and vegetables. Big crock of fiery harissa on the table. Wondrous food. Better than anything HG/BSK ever ate in visits to Morocco (including meals at posh hotel La Mamounia in Marrakech). Restaurant owner identified himself as Algerian and the food as Algerian home cooking (that’s what HG gathered with much sign language and clumsy French). Before leaving, HG had a glass of best ever mint tea . The bill? Cheap, cheap. Don’t be frightened by the bustle of the neighborhood and the ominous looks of some of the residents. Get to Jour et Nuit when in Paris and enjoy.

Long apres lunch stroll through the Barbes neighborhood, Pigalle and the lower slopes of Montmartre. Reminded HG of Brooklyn where edgy neighborhoods are becoming the haunts of hipsters and the upwardly mobile young. Dinner with BSK at warm and welcoming Bourgogne Sud on Rue de Clichy. Complimentary glass of white wine and sausage from the Macon region on the table. HG/BSK enjoyed the lush and meaty escargots followed by grilled scallops with crisp roasted potatoes and green salad. Drank very good Moulin a Vent red. Wine poached pears with vanilla ice cream for dessert. This wasn’t haute cuisine, just a meal of down home goodness. After dishes were cleared, hostess brought a big bottle of marc de bourgogne and brandy glasses. Left the bottle on the table. A volonte: Drink as much as you want. HG did not drink as much of the lovely beverage as HG wanted. BSK was a moderating influence. But, more than enough. Did manage to walk back to apartment without staggering.

HG/BSK (plus enchanting Beautiful Granddaughter Sofia) arrived in Paris Dec. 31. The weary trio shopped for some basics and then snoozed for a few hours (HG rented a two bedroom apartment in the Quartier d’Europe, a neighborhood in the 8e that borders the 9e, 17e, 18e and is close to many metro lines). Showered, refreshed and hungry, the destination for New Year’s Eve dinner was Bourgogne Sud on nearby Rue de Clichy. This is a bistro that features cooking from the Burgundy region, a cuisine that is rich, flavorful and makes good use of the region’s wonderful white and red wines. The holiday menu (a steal at 38.90 euro a person) started with a plenitude of escargots. These had been removed from their shells and cooked in a special metal plate that had indentations to contain the escargots and the lush garlic-parsley-butter sauce in which they were bathed. The best snails HG ever tasted. Big. Plump. Juicy. And, not overwhelmed with garlic. There was also a big platter of excellent (reminiscent of New York’s Russ & Daughters) smoked salmon and gravlax. A good baguette to soak up the escargot butter and Poilane bread with the salmon. And, before this gala beginning, the warm and welcoming host, Gilles Breuil, plied our party with flutes of champagne and slices of lovely Rosette salami. Pouilly-Fuisse was the ideal wine to drink with the entrees. For mains, BSK had a generous plate of perfectly grilled scallops. BGS had the signature dish of boeuf bourgignon and HG dove into a big quenelle de brochet in a rich sauce nantua with abundant crayfish. Wine was Moulin-a-Vent from Beaujolais. A trio of pleasant desserts including a chestnut Mont Blanc. Digestif was marc (from Burgundy, of course). The atmosphere in Bougogne Sud was happy and jolly. Gilles Breuil keeps the great traditions of Parisian bistros alive . He is to be thanked. If you are in Paris, don’t miss Borgogne Sud.