Muguet de Paris

May is off to a stunning start here in Paris. We have been experiencing the sort of weather people dream of, but rarely experience here or elsewhere. Yes, it is hot, but there is a breeze, and the sky is the most incredible blue, without a cloud in sight.

The tourists have arrived, sporting a self-congratulatory air that lets you know they are  pleased with themselves for having chosen this particular time to visit. The locals are blossoming, as well, and I have heard more than one person opine that weather such as this makes people nicer.

There may be something to this. It’s almost a given that I’m going to meet someone when I’m out with my editorial assistant and running buddy, Miranda, shown at right. The other night, it was a Canadian tourist who  stopped just to share how much he loved “our” city.

In weather like this, everything is more enjoyable. The only down side, from my point of view, is that most of the time I feel like doing nothing more strenuous than sipping wine in front of a café, soaking up sun. And the wine is negotiable; Paris is that intoxicating.

Sometimes the demands of life cooperate and take me away from my computer. In this case it was a “zoom error,” which means six weeks in the shop. Now, clearly, I can’t  publish a blog without a reliable camera, so off I went to the FNAC, where I found a little Nikon that will be a good backup.

I should mention that it is PINK, a pale pink with definite ambitions toward lavender.

On my way home, I thought of a place I had discovered a few months earlier, but hadn’t yet tried. Would you believe an oyster shack right in the middle of Paris? It is a tiny little place, with rough-hewn pine walls, absolutely devoid of frills, and presided over by a cheerful young woman named Ségolène, who is a wealth of information, as well as completely charming.

When I entered, it was obvious that she had been slammed, as several tables hadn’t yet been cleared, and she was still busily shucking oysters. I installed myself at a table, which turned out to be next to one occupied by a couple from Montreal. There seem to be a lot of  tourists from that neck of the woods right now.

Ségolène passed me a glass over the counter and asked the gentleman next door to pour me a glass from the open bottle on his table. As I waited for her to bring me a menu, she showed up with a plate of a dozen oysters, not overly large, but very tasty and fresh.

These are Arcachon oysters, which many maintain have a more delicate taste and texture than those grown in Normandy. They are grown in the ancient manner on beds on the sand, where, Ségolène tells us, they nourish themselves on plankton from the sea and from the sand.

After I had regaled myself with oysters, washed down by liberally-poured wine (although I was only charged for two glasses), Ségolène offered me the choice of a Basque sheep cheese or foie gras. I opted for the latter, which, I learned, is made by a friend of the house. My compliments to the friend. This was one of the best foie gras I have ever tasted, and was accompanied by a nice glass of red.

Wisely, I believe, I passed on dessert. Coffee and a small glass of Armagnac provided a nice final touch. My bill came to €23,50.

This great little find is open from Wednesday through Saturday. Apparently, it gets pretty lively on occasion, tables set up on the sidewalk and the clientele joining in singing traditional songs by Piaf and Brel. It is located at 4, rue Antoine Bourdelle, 75015 Paris, (Métro Montparnasse-Bienvenue or Falguière).

And where do the roses come in? Well, feeling completely satiated and content after an unexpectedly good lunch, I made my way home, taking time to smell the roses while trying out my new camera.

Jan del Monte, blogging from the rue du Cherche-Midi, Paris, France

© 2008 Jan del Monte

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~ by Jane del Monte on May 13, 2008.

Posted in L'Art de Vivre, Potpourri