A quiet Saturday

Well, I guess that last night's horrible events would be enough to throw anyone off their stride, especially in a place that's "foreign" to you.  Ed and I didn't sleep too well, so between that and our lingering messed-up time clocks, we had a quiet day today.  None of the museums or government-connected places was open, so we had lunch in the apartment, watched reruns of "The Big Bang Theory" for some comfort from home (in English), and all had a very nice post-luncheon nap.  We're off to find a highly regarded tapas bar in a little bit.

The lunch cruise on the Seine we were supposed to take today was canceled, so we rearranged that for Monday night's dinner.  I've been in touch with tomorrow's guide for Ile de la Cite, and he will be ready to meet us as planned.  So off we will go to find the Metro and give it a go tomorrow morning.

Last night, before the trouble started, we went to a wonderful Montmartre restaurant, Au Trois Petit Cochons (the Three Little Pigs).  It was small and rustic, with real candles on the tables, and with a decidedly piggy decor (my friend Helen Gillotte-Tropp would love it). 

One view of Au Trois Petit Cochon

The food was absolutely fabulous.  We each had an appetizer plate:  Deb and Grace had pumpkin soup with goat cheese, Ed had foie gras with mushrooms and salad (no comments, please, we're in France), and I had grilled endives stuffed with goat cheese in a cream sauce with ham.  Dear lord, they were amazingly good dishes.  Plenty of bread was consumed in getting all the soup or sauce off those plates.

Grilled Endive stuffed with Goat Cheese in a Ham Cream Sauce

For entrees, Deb and I had prawns with lemon risotto, Ed had filet mignon of pork stuffed with pork trotters and something brick-shaped that was supposed to be mashed potatoes.  It was, and it was good.  Grace, amazingly, ordered escargots and pronounced them edible, because they taste like clams in a different-shaped shell.

 Prawns with Lemon Risotto and Baby Vegetables in Seafood Sauce

The prawns were delicious, perfectly done.  In Italy last year, I thought the prawns were so fabulous that I looked for them on menus, and it seems France is the same.

 The restaurant is quite small, with family-style long tables for couples who come late

Knowing that two bags of jewel-colored macarons awaited us at home, we were determined not to have dessert at the restaurant, but Ed had read a review that said the Baked Alaska flamed with Armagnac was not to be missed, so . . . one Baked Alaska with four forks later, we rolled out into the street.  Sorry, no picture of that -- we were about three minutes too late to take it.  

We taught the waiter, a lovely young Frenchman, what it means if Americans say "Hated it," holding up our empty plates.  He thought that was funny.  

So off we go on our continued travels . . . a bientot. 


  1. Well, if you have to be a witness to history, it's better to do it from the other side of the city, and with good food at hand.

    That sounds colder than I meant it to. I'm just so glad you are all safe today. Xo

  2. Thanks, Sue. It's so quiet here that it's hard to believe what was going on in other parts of the city. I'm so glad that fate led us to take an apartment in Montmartre rather than in the Marais or the canal areas. We're going to be careful, but still forge on.

  3. Thanks for reporting. Give our love to Paris.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Looking for a German Surname? Try Geogen.

Blog Caroling 2017 -- The Holly and the Ivy

Sentimental Sunday: Mother's Day, 2016