Paris in July: Remembrance of Things Paris

When "Gourmet" magazine folded in November 2009, readers lost not only a wonderful source of recipes but some fascinating articles that took them around the world. In "Remembrance of Things Paris," a collection of essays from sixty years of the magazine, editor Ruth Reichl pulls out not only the best of the "food" posts about Paris but also features that visited other spots in the City of Light.

Through the eyes of several journalists, we get to step behind the scenes at such spots as Cartier's, the Druout auction house and the House of Dior.

The first few offerings visit Paris after World War II, noting the changes this devastating event made on the city and its cooking. One that particularly touched me was a selection by George Bijur in which he visits his old phonetics teacher after the war and is subsequently invited to the old man's home for a memorable chicken dinner.

While it may have been a magazine for those who love food, the articles I loved best both in Gourmet and in this book were about Paris itself, many by Joseph Wechsberg or Naomi Berry. Wechsberg  takes readers to such intriguing places as Librarie Salet (a gourmet and rare cookbook shop) , the Parisian Police Museum, the Musee du Cinema and introduces readers to the "nose" of Guerlain, makers of internationally renowned perfumes.

He also takes viewers to the Marche aux Fleurs (one of my favorite places).

And he gets a rare interview with the man who made Berthillon a "must visit" spot for anyone traveling to Paris.

New Yorker architecture critic looks at "The New Face of Paris," buildings created in more recent decades that are nothing like the classic Haussman-type architecture we see.

Chef Patric Kuh writes about his earliest experiences working in a professional kitchen in "When I was Green," in which he had to master the essential art of asparagus.

Michael Lewis, author of "Moneyball" and "The Big Short" tells of his parents' visit to Paris and his commitment to make an authentic cassoulet -- which isn't that easy to do when mom is in the kitchen. (He shares the recipe.)

Several pieces look at the old Les Halles market and the new Halles at Rungis, all with great nostalgia for what was lost when the great food market, the "belly of Paris," was moved out of town.

And with Llian Langseth Christiansen we step into a private post-Christening party -- no small thing! (Menu included!)

Editor Judith Jones and her husband, Evan, recall a Christmas in Paris. Jones was the editor who took a chance on a young cookbook author named Julia Child. Her story was one of my favorites, perhaps because of her reference to the delightful bakery, Poilane, one Rick and I visited several years ago.

Another renowned American, Alice B. Toklas is fondly remembered. One never lunched at Alice's in a hurry!

But should you think that restaurants and bistros are left out, think again. Both Wechsberg and Berry cover the bistro scene. Wechsberg visits a restaurant seeing its star power in "When Michelin comes Calling," and "The Young Chefs of Paris" (written in 1979) features "newcomers" at the time.

Frank J. Prial vsits some wine vendors.

Two splendid pieces focus on the legendary Belle Epoch restaurant, Maxim's, while Naomi Berry also looks at Paris ' Haute Chocolaterie and visits many well regarded chocolatiers, bringing back recipes from the Hotel Meurice, Le Crillon, the Ritz and more.

Indeed, for the intrepid cook (particularly one with a budget to play with) there is much to enjoy in this delightful book of mostly short selections, long after the last page is turned!

I've had this book on my shelf for too long and now wonder why I didn't read it cover to cover at the first opportunity. Perhaps it was meant to be saved for now, when the thought of returning to Paris and the reality of that possibility seem like polar opposites. In these selections I was taken to spots Í have visitied and those into which I'd probably never be allowed in. But oh, that I could!

This post is part of Paris in July, a blog event focusing on food, music, films, style, books, travel and all things Parisian and French. For links to other Paris in July posts, visit HERE. (Another Paris in July post visiting the arts square Place du Tertre is below.)

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Paris In July: Bringing Paris to My Art Table

I will admit that it's touristy. But I also have to admit that on my first visit to Paris I was most delighted to visit the Place du Tertre in Montmartre where artists were selling their wares and painting on the streets.

Some were taking advantage of the tourist souvenir trade to do a portrait. (This subject looks as though she was forced to sit there by her mother!)

Others had their own interpretations of Parisian views.

You could buy...

...you could look.

Competition to be an artist in this small square just a few metres from Sacre Coeur is stiff. Only a few types of art are allowed -- painting, portraites, caricature and silhouette. Artists alternate days in their stalls, sharing a small space of about three square feet.

It is said that the waiting list to be artist on Place du Tertre is ten years long!

I don't think I'll ever be ready for Place du Tertre, but I will certainly admit that Paris makes a delightful subject for any artist -- including me. Below, a bit of a gallery. This was the view from my friend Jerry's bedroom window where we stayed on our first two visits.

A night at the cafe? Oh, that was a good evening!

One of my favorite attractions? The bouquinistes!

Or, take a break in the park. You'll certainly find a vendor in the Tuileries or Jardin du Luxembourg from whom to rent a boat.

Walking by the Seine is always a treat. (This needs to be reworked.)

And the night -- so beautiful and romantic.

The hills of Montmartre and the striking view of Sacre Coeur always make the heart beat a bit faster!

And while in Montmartre, a building that seems to be in every photographer's collection, including mine.

One can't forget the inspiration of the Eiffel Tower.

I've painted it many times, from many angles.

I'm quite sure I will do it again.

And again.

And finally, Notre Dame. I can't seem to get this right.

The sketch was better than the painting. (Although I do like my trees.)

But I try, a different angle. (I won't even show you the painting from that one!)

Ah well. Even if I was good enough, I probably wouldn't outlive the waiting list and the work visa.

But it's fun to imagine!

This post is part of Paris in July, a blog event hosted  by Tamara at Thyme for Tea in which bloggers share Paris-related travel, art, books, films, photography and more. Check out current posts HERE.

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Postcards from the Lake: Simple Gifts

I may have meltdown moments but I also have a great deal of gratitude in these days of Covid-19 as we isolate in the north (though we go home now and then).  That gratitude extends to all of you. I was inspired by the stories you shared and the encouragement and support on my last post. Thank you all -- and please, wear your masks, wash hands and stand back a little!

For the most part, it has been sunny and hot. That's perfect for playing in the lake!

And it's Michigan sweet cherry season. This is the best part of any summer -- those glorious, succulent sweet cherries.

There are plenty of books to read....

....and no shortage of things to paint!

I finished my puzzle, with the help of Rick for the last 50 pieces or so. Time to do another, but right now his "office" is on the puzzle table!

There is plenty of beauty around -- like this pretty glorious butterfly!

This sweet bird look like it might be a young flicker. What say you, my bird friends?

Lizzie finds her own nature -- swatting at a tall weed on the other side of the screen! She may be the best, but she's not the brightest.

I was lucky to be given some zinnia (and other) seeds from blog pals earlier in the spring. Some are at home but some came north and are beginning to show their colors. Thank you!

Rick is working but also enjoying his bike rides.

And he provides me with a never-ending soundtrack of classical guitar.

If I have any one Rick regret it's that because he is more out in the world than I, we are keeping distance, even up here, with our own rooms and not hugging. That's the hardest thing of the Covid. Maybe rarely I'll hug him from behind but it's not the same. Still, we do it to stay safe. But we're eating the same food, sit at opposite ends of the couch and are very careful. And when all is said and done and we're at the table (opposite ends) we're always pleased to toast the day.

Clouds may roll in....

Sunsets may be tinged with bits of light and color -- a promise that even when it's dark, there can be some beauty.

Meanwhile Queen Elizabeth sits on her throne.

We are blessed.

Postcards from the Lake: My Covid Meltdown

I knew it had to be coming. I have been far too content in isolation and at home (or cottage) for it to last. It happened on Saturday. We'd had a wonderful Facetime with the kids. Well, close to wonderful -- something was wrong with Kevin's webcam (we suspect Toddler Error) and so their screen was black. But the conversation was good, even though we couldn't see the Munchkins playing (and periodically arguing) in the background.

This photo was part of an installation at Tate Modern (2018). It seems to capture my mood more and more often these days.

Cam turned two this past week. I think of him as older but he is now officially, a "terrible two" and milking it! As Kevin said, Carson had delayed "terrible two" (he's now three and a half) and Cam is right there, so it makes for an interesting and on-your-toes home life!

Molly's parents are having a birthday party for him in a couple of weeks and we are invited. But I thought about it a lot and there will be quite a few people there and they aren't as committed to distance and masks as we are. So, I said I would have to decline.

They understood, of course. But I still felt bad, not only about me but that the only reason Rick wouldn't go was if he did and he got sick, it would affect me. Which made me feel bad. (HE didn't make me feel bad; I did that all on my own.)

If it was just that one incident it would be one thing, but just a few days before I told my cousin I wouldn't be at his daughter's September 5 wedding. We have waited for this one for a long time and nothing would make me happier than to be at Heather's big day. But again, too many people at tables at a reception and who knows what with being close.

The realization hit hard after today's phone conversation. I don't mind being alone or with Rick or with carefully and widely distanced others outside, with masks at hand. Nor do I really miss lunches or dinners out or even shopping (apart from picking out my own veggies or going to the farmer's market). What I DO miss is not being able to participate in events that are meaningful, like Cam's birthday or Heather's wedding. Chances are, I will probably be advised not to participate in our annual Mistletoe Market art sale in November. 

So, I lost it. The meltdown. Rick had suggested a walk. I countered with a drive to someplace I didn't know -- to see something I hadn't seen. Because believe me, I've seen my walk route plenty.

So, off we went, following part of his bike route when he rides here from home. It was a gorgeous day. Our 90s temps have toned down and it was very windy. The sky was that blue I cannot seem to mix in my paintbox and the clouds were perfection.

We went through state forest area and drove on long, badly paved roads. Finally we ended up at a small store in the middle of nowhere. And I mean the middle of nowhere.

I was impressed by the signs that people had to wear a mask (although the help wasn't, but he was behind plexi). This store was great -- but odd. We were the only people there, which was great. But I could immediately see why. It had high-end and expensive sport clothes and hats, a wine section worthy of a far bigger city with nothing under $18; a huge beer selection and what I would call artisan chips and epicurean "groceries" -- jams and syrups from Stonewall Kitchen, interesting spices, corn and potato chip brands I'd never heard of; sardines, anchovies, capers, bruschetta -- it was a cocktail party in a store in terms of selection. But 24 quart-sized ziplocks were $5.99.

If, however, you wanted anything to really eat, like tuna fish or canned tomatoes, Oreos, a cake mix  or a sandwich, you were out of luck.

I have not been in a store since March 16. Even when I got a prescription I went to the drive through. I spent $26 on chocolate sauce, crackers, malted milk balls, chocolate covered cherries and spices you put in olive oil for bread dipping. I was like an addict who went off the wagon.

We stopped at the Au Sable River, where we observed a Covid party just waiting to happen...

...and several canoes coming down the way. It was really quite pretty.

Then we took a meandering way home. I felt much better to have been "out" for awhile and now back in the cocoon where someone was waiting for us.

But the whole thing made me again wonder, how long will this last, what will be the cost to our relationships, our way of doing family events. It seems we are on an international merry-go-round that has run amuck. Around and around. Wear a mask. Keep your distance. Wash your hands. This or that is closed. Now they're open. Now they're closed. More restrictions. And why, oh why, won't they enforce fines for not wearing a mask or keeping distance?

I know some people don't care. They will go to church, no matter how many are there; they will attend the first big sporting event that comes along, a political rally, a crowded bar, or the first big concert or play or festival they can.

I also know this is something I cannot do. It's not a matter of WILL not. It's a matter of CAN not. When I don't think of it much, I can tamp down the anxiety. But then it slowly bubbles up and surfaces.

And then there is the physical violence that has  occurred in conjunction with places that DO have requirements and try to enforce them. Or the mask shaming and bullying and name calling that comes from those who mock the maskers.

How many people have to get really ill -- or worse, die -- before we get our act together like the lion's share of the rest of the civilized world? Obviously, the mask refusers don't think about what that refusal means to others who might be vulnerable -- or just plain don't want to get sick. It's the epitome of selfish. Who has to die for them to "get the idea"  -- their mother? Father? Best friend? Sibling? Child? Spouse? What will it take?

No wonder other countries won't let us into their borders. I don't want to even let anyone into my house.

Our state has been having many Covid increases, both deaths and cases (more cases than deaths) and we've seen the impact of community spread in our own city. And we are one of the states that has high marks for doing everything right. I worry about my friends in the South, especially, but really everywhere.

Because we're all getting jumpy. We all want to go to the birthday party. Or the wedding. Of just be with a group of favorite friends. And some will -- and maybe it will be fine. Or maybe they will get very sick. Or pass it on to one who dies.

And that thought freaks me out. I guess I can go on as long as it takes...I hope so.