paris, la deuxieme journee: so much to eat, so little, little time (and stomach capacity)

once again, we managed to wake up at 11am, but made it to the rue de raspail market (also just around the corner from denise’s place) in time to pick up a bunch of those cute little thumb-sized radishes, some ratte and vitelotte fingerling potatoes (the former are a famed creamy white variety, the latter a pretty, tastily earthy dark purple variety), st marcellin (goat) and brebis (sheep) cheeses, pate de campagne, and six oysters (to try out denise’s new oyster knife from dehillerin). we stopped off at poilane on the way back and picked up a portion of one of their eponymous breads, sampled a couple punitions (the late m. poilane’s sable cookies) apiece, and also brought back a lovely, perfectly-cooked tarte de pommes made of puff pastry. the raspail market has more than respectable offerings, with the fish, meat and cheese vendors matching produce vendors. there’s even a special italian stand and middle eastern specialist and portuguese guys hawking chorizo and bacalhao. the topinambur are much prettier here, and there is salsify! one of my favorite roots of all time. and fat little parsnips (which are nowhere to be found in italy) and ten different kinds of garlic and those funny elongated shallots.

back at the flat: we had only a 50% success rate opening the oysters (tim, i forgot how! a reminder…?). but we had plenty to eat besides. and everything — particularly the pate — was so, so good.

this, all of this, is what makes me fall in love with french food again.

we met up with owen franken at his new place further up near the other chinatown and got a few beers with him and had pretty decent chinese food across the street: razor clams with chives, rice flour cakes with preserved pork, a sort of squash-melon thing (called sigua) with more preserved pork, and fried dumplings that my mom would approve of. owen franken is a fucking cool guy.

poire and mure sauvage glace from berthillon on ile-st-louis while walking past the notre dame, all lit up at night.

paris is, without a doubt, the most romantic city in the world.


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