While I arrived here Saturday afternoon, the full-scale lunching didn’t begin until I recovered on Monday. The plan, which I’ve worked out over the years, is to have walking/sightseeing activities in the morning, a big slap-up lunch at 12:30 or so, and then either a nap or light afternoon activities. There’s only coffee for breakfast and no dinner; ergo, I can eat a lot but not gain weight. The walking also helps: yesterday there must have been four hours on the hoof.
For lunch yesterday I returned to one of the first places I ate in Paris—when I moved here in the fall of 1989 for a six-month sabbatical. I lived in a tiny garret apartment on the Rue Jacob in the 6th Arrondissement: the literary area of the Left Bank.
Although I worked way out in the suburbs, nothing was going to stop me from living in the center of Paris. Every day I commuted an hour each way to the CNRS evolutionary biology labs in the suburb of Gif-sur-Yvette; but I didn’t mind the long commute (the only time in my life I haven’t walked or biked to work) because I was living in Paris!
The food here is, of course, a revelation to nearly all Americans, and as I learned about the restaurant culture and how to eat, I worked my way up from cheap student dives to fancier bistros and restaurants (I conserved funds by having a quotidian dinner at home of salad, a baguette, and France’s fantastic cheese). But our go-to restaurant in the neighborhood was La Lozère, a humble but wonderful bistro specializing in the hearty food of the Lozére, a department in southern France.
I hadn’t eaten there since I left Paris in the summer of 1990, but looked it up to discover it wasn’t only still going, but also had really good reviews. And so to lunch again—28 years later. But first, a brisk three-hour walk through the Marais, an old and colorful area of town.
One of the few medieval half-timbered buildings left in Paris:
Below is the Agoudas Hakehilos synagogue in the Marais, the only Art Nouveau synagogue I know of. Completed in 1914, it was designed and built by Hector Guimard, who also designed the fabulous Art Nouveau Metro signs that you can still see in Paris (e.g., here). The Germans dynamited it and six other synagogues in 1941, but it was restored.
Security at the synagogue is very high, as I learned when I watched someone with an appointment try to get in (sadly, there was no chance of me going inside, though I’d love to see the interior). This is, of course, because of the terrorist attacks on Jews in Paris.
A 17th century carving of a winemaker on a building across the Seine, just one of the many uncelebrated sculptures you can see if you keep your eyes peeled while walking around the city.
Some of the shops have retained their old and colorful business signs. This store once sold cooked vegetables, but now purveys confectionary from Provence. The Parisians are rightfully proud of their history.
Crossing from the Marais to the Left Bank and the Quai de la Tournelle, you get a great view of Notre Dame, with all the buttresses flying:
Here is La Lozère, exactly as it was three decades ago. It’s near the Place St. Michel: one of the few decent bistros in the area. (Allard is also near, but pricier, and I’ve not eaten there.) And, I found, it’s still very good.
The cozy interior. I reserved for noon, half an hour earlier than usual, and by 12:30 the place was full of diners who had reservations. Lots of others without reservations tried to get in, but were turned away. And everyone inside (except two of us) were French. Wine at lunch is de rigueur, though I don’t know how French workers can be productive after a bibulous lunch.
Appetizers: Charcuterie from the Lozére and foie gras sauteed with pears (note: anyone wishing to comment adversely on my choice of food should immediately leave this site). The wine is an inexpensive specimen from the region, a Côtes du Roussillon. (I never drink fancy or pricey wines in Paris.)
One difference from when I ate here in 1989-1990: back then, the charcuterie was a huge basket of whole sausages and a knife; you’d cut your own portions—as much as you wanted. But you still get cornichons (small gherkins) and butter to go with the excellent bread (which you do cut yourself from a big half loaf).
Lamb chops. The only misstep in the meal was that they were overcooked: they should be pink in the middle. Shredded squash and potatoes are on the side.
Duck breast (god help me). This was properly cooked: rosé, as a good magret de canard should be. But I am doubly damned, for this was not only duck, but it was cooked with HONEY. Honey! Potatoes and squash are on the side here, too:
The desserts were superb: a flaky apple tart with puff pastry, whipped cream, and dark honey, and a fantastic chestnut cake with a chocolate center and vanilla cream on the side. It’s chestnut season, and today I bought myself a special treat: marrons glacés, or candied chesnuts, which I adore.
I’d never had chestnut cake before, nor do I know how it’s made, but it was wonderful, with a heavy flavor of chestnut that melded perfectly with the coeur chocolat.
