Eventually one has to get to the topic of why the French eat snails. I have to confess I don’t actually know the reason why a little garden dwelling gastropod now rises to the status of becoming gratifying gastronomic grub. The Romans used to eat them and if I had to guess I imagine during hard times the French yokels (not intended as a derogatory term) required them to supplement their diet and get some much needed protein.
“Gav, you’re in France, you’ve got to try them! Even my ex-Aussie boyfriend gave them a nibble”, I’m told, my contortioned face rolled up into a ball of disgust. All I could mumble was, “Well, obviously he’s a better man than I”, but then another argument presented itself to me; sorry two arguments. Actually now I stop to think about it there is a third argument because Mme. Grenouille is a vegetarian who happens to love snails (living snails that is) so shouldn’t have been trying to force escargot onto me in the first place! It had also been explained to me that snails by themselves have no real taste and it is the garlic buttery sauce that gives them their flavour. Surely that in itself is reason enough? My third argument simply demanded “Why not slugs?” They’re longer, surely just as high in protein and you don’t have to mess about with the shell! Mme. Grenouille face turned a little downward at the corners with this suggestion.
A couple of years ago I was at Mme. Grenouille’s 88 year old grandmothers in the countryside, and spied some very large snail shell shaped ceramic. I hardly dared ask what they were for, but yes they were a receptacle for holding lots of cooked snails. You do see snails on most Paris restaurant menus, or if you pop into the local Picard (a frozen food store) they have great big bags of icy snails sitting alongside crêpes and the like. If you are partial to new culinary and cultural pursuits I must recommend you don’t pick your own and eat them raw for fear of meningitis (See this news story, Warning: Don’t eat slugs)
This Christmas just gone, Mme. Grenouille’s mother bought me something I can stomach – chocolate truffle escargots! Looking at the bottom of the box these are actually made by Nestle.
If you’re coming here for holidays be sure to wrap up warm and do remember keywords such as l’escargot or cuisses de grenouille (frog’s legs). If you watch this YouTube video (Maïté et l’anguille) and you’re a hypocritical meat-eater (such as myself) with a weak stomach then do not hit the play button. With that said the chef, Marie-Thérèse Ordonez, does scare me just a little bit more than the eels themselves. You may wish to add l’anguille (eel) to your vocab list.
If my posts have been a little lacking of late it is because I took a sojourn to the UK over Christmas and the New Year. I flew back from Birmingham on the 3rd January (a 6:25am flight) with temperatures down to -8C! Back in Paris it was -4C, and yesterday (6th January) there was actually snow on the streets and cars. Even now looking down into the courtyard I can see some traces of it.
Landing at Paris, Charles de Gaulle airport
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Bercy was the place Parisians came to get merry when once upon a time it stood as a rural village serving cheap intoxicating liquors (untaxed). With time the area turned to squalor until its revival in the 1970’s. The dilapidated wine storehouses (chais in French) have been revamped into dedicated commercial shops, and a modern complex/cinema which I sometimes frequent, stands to one end. I came to Bercy, in the 12th arrondissment, today with Mme Froggy (I swear I’ll invent a more creative name when my brain has some rest), to do a little Christmas shopping. She was the one to make the observation that there were many window shoppers, but scarcely anybody with bags full of purchases. It does seem the recession has come to Paris and France as a whole and Parisian’s are tightening the purse strings this year.
It was nice to see some festive decorations, although the French are far more conservative than the Brits in their luminary pursuits. Along the road some strange paganistic characters on stilts danced over the cobbles, drapes flowing from their arms as they lent over and leered with evil faces at passing shoppers.
I took refuge in the nearby sweet shop where the various candies and nougats were all home-made in ye olde-styled boxes, but found the prices a little more frightening than what lay outside the door.
A few shops down is O&Co, mainly dedicated to selling fine olive oils and balsamic vinegar. The staff stand with spoons close at hand so you can try samples of fig vinegar or Moulin de L’Olivette – yum! Many months back we purchased a bottle of Pollichino Olive Oil which we use with cheese, salads and pasta – it’s very kind to the taste buds. I tried a cherry vinegar, and told the chap that British cough medicine often had a cherry flavour. Fortunately it didn’t quite resemble the same flavour, but was very acidic and sweet.
Right next-door to this pedestrianised shopping centre sits Parc de Bercy, a 173 acre park which is interesting by day, and well, dark by night. I took a quick snapshot of a heron lurking on the pond but I’m still having to ‘guess, point, click’ with the broken camera. A lone man stood with a laptop watching videos (nearly all the Paris parks have WIFI - it’s funny because I hear the French refer to it as ‘wiffy’ not ‘why-thigh’). I was trying to imagine a park in the UK (especially a city park), where you could stand with a laptop in the dark within a secluded park and not get mugged!
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It seems those pesky space invaders won’t leave me be. I walked to the end of my road this morning, the same walk I’d taken many a time, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t find another of the little mosaic freaks looking up at me with two sinister black hollowed square eyes.
Then just a minutes walk from the apartment I’ll be monkey’s uncle if there’s not another on Rue Jasmin.
In the backdrop Mme Froggy’s doctor was shaking her sheets clean from the balcony window.
Unfortunately the little portable camera’s LCD screen is still broken, so it’s now a question of ‘guess, point, click and hope’ to see if the camera caught the subject. I decided to take just a few snapshots of some of the local architecture on my way home despite the grey skies and drizzle. We have some interesting buildings by Hector Guimard, but I’ll save that for another entry. Amongst the classic Parisian architecture is a whole mixture of styles; one day when the sun shineth I will have to go on walkabouts as the 16th district is full of foreign embassies and some of those are impressive alongside other gems tucked away off the main road. On Rue Jasmin you can find this huge elaborate doorway which I’m told used to be the entrance to a former post office.
This is a red brick building (66 avenue Mozart) on my road which stands out in contrast to neighboring buildings, but still manages to fit in context with the street.
Alongside the Christmas trees a white lorry is often parked. If you’re going to turn to the dark side and graffiti something, might as well do it in style.
The stone built building is a style of architecture I don’t see too often, but there are a few more examples scattered throughout Paris and in some of the suburbs.
This is another building tucked around one of the side streets, which is different again but still suits Paris.
Back on the avenue Mozart, this corner facade is quite typical and very eloquant.
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I swear I saw a space invader somewhere on our street or perhaps down a little side road in the 16th arr., scratched my head at the implausible context and then carried on walking giving it no more thought. Then one day I was in the 18th arrondissement and there was another, perhaps 10 feet off the pavement stuck to the wall of an old building.
Beware the space invaders have taken over! Actually, they’ve taking over for some years and it will certainly be old news to some. There are quite literally hundreds of these mosaics all over Paris, put there by an anonymous street artist. The project started in 1998 and has spread to cities the world over. Quite how they’ve managed to install them without being noticed or arrested remains a mystery, but if you’re in Paris and find a strange pair of eyes looking down at you, make sure you have your lazer gun at hand. More photos can be found here - Space Invaders Paris
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Over the past fortnight I’ve been exchanging a few emails with a couple of members of a film production team, working on a movie named “Cheri” set in Paris in the 1920’s and due for release next year. I spoke to the assistant of Andras Hamori (producer for such films as Sunshine and eXistenZ which I loved) as they wish to use one of the photographs on my website as part of the opening title to the film. Apparently there will be about 40 images over a period of 45 seconds with narration to describe La Belle Époque (the beautiful era) in Paris. Keep your eyes peeled for this photo (Grand Entrance) as if all goes ahead it will be appearing in the film! Well that’s my very small claim to fame for today.
I believe the film is based on the book Cheri by Colette, so I imagine it will about an older woman and a young lover. The film will feature Michelle Pfeiffer, Kathy Bates and Rupert Friend (who I think lives in Paris with Keira Knightley) amongst others. Can I use that old clichéd adage – ‘you heard it here first folks’ – hmmm, it does sound rather tacky.
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Sunday congregation is not normally the pursuit of an apostate whose Sunday school preached that friends and family were most likely going to a very bad place with wailing and gnashing of teeth etc. etc. Never-the-less it was Sunday morning and we went to Notre Dame to see my girlfriend’s gay opera singer friend perform during mass.
Notre Dame is not the most impressive interior of Paris’ religious iconic buildings, but it certainly creates an atmosphere. With the dominating roof and lofty stained glass rose windows it’s possible to appreciate the art segregated from the religion. After a few pious speeches (the same old, same old no matter what language it is spoken in) we got to hear the singing, which was very impressive especially with the ambience and acoustics Notre Dame offers.
After the cannibalistic symbolism of drinking Jesus’ blood (I’m told this is extremely high quality wine) and dishing out rice paper as the body of Christ (some people allow this to be placed directly in their mouth, and others take it into their hands and then eat it), these most ancient of pre-Christian rituals concluded the morning. Hungry, I popped into Subway opposite and took a nice walk along the Seine, chewing on my baguette and taking in the last remaining drops of autumn colour. It was there that the little point and click camera that tucks away so conveniently in the pocket decided to get sick, so I may have the lug around the larger beast until it is fixed.
If you don’t like the scores of crowds that summer brings, I certainly recommend an autumnal stay in Paris. When the sun shines, it is one of the most beautiful cities.
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I was in the Latin Quarter this afternoon and passed a strange looking aluminum sculpture in front of La Sorbonne which served as a climbing frame for kids and adults. To add to the surrealism a bleached haired, leather clad 6ft 6 couple (they were identical heights, male and female) walked past getting strange looks by everyone - perhaps German nihilists? Unfortunately with the bleak grey sky I didn’t bother bringing my camera which was a shame, but had this inexpensive point and click. By the time I reached Jardin du Luxembourg, the sun was low in the sky and haze gave the park a magical glow. Paris is a beautiful place in such moments. I include a few photographs below taken today.
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My lack of recent journal entries is due to spending most of September in the Pyrenees. I’m currently playing catch-up whilst suffering from a bout of flu, so expect some threads and photographs featuring both the Hautes-Pyrénées and Pyrénées-Orientales soon. In the mean time here are some photographs of Paris’ Pere Lachaise cemetery with autumn colours, taken last weekend. My baby sister came over to visit, so we had a random wander around the multitude of sepulchres, coupled with my lacklustre failed attempts to point out Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde’s graves (despite I’ve found them in the past); without a map the place is a labyrinth! You can see more of my photos and read more about Pere Lachaise here.
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Last Saturday Paris saw the return of summer, so I embarked upon a stroll to parc André Citroën located just across the river Seine bordering the 15th arrondissement. Relatively unknown to tourists, despite being a direct walk from the Eiffel Tower, on a warm weekend the park is more than occupied by its local residents.
Shade was at a premium, so I settled in the shadow of the gas balloon that offers moored flights to tourists wanting a better view over the city. The obvious problem with this makeshift solution is that the balloon liked to move its shadow every ten minutes in a continuous pattern of ascension and descension. I’m not usually one for laying like a sun soaked lizard, so read my book ‘perspective for artists’ by Rex Vicat Cole, pulling off my sunglasses and reapplying in time with the dancing shadow. I’m on a back to basics approach to art and perspective is one of those things that seems to largely get bypassed and ignored which is a shame given it really is the foundation behind almost all art. Beside me a young boy was lightly humming classical music, and I tried to imagine the same scenario in my old local chav infested park back in Saddleworth.
The second before shade becomes blinding sunlight
As the name suggests there is a definite connection between the park and the founder of a certain car manufacturer. The park is built on a former site of a Citroën automobile manufacturing plant which closed in the 1970’s. The Andre Citroen park covers about 35 acres in a strange futurist style, filled with sensory nooks and crannies to keep you entertained. It’s particularly popular with children due to the waterfalls that erupt in varying sequences between two giant greenhouses hosting exotic Mediterranean vegetation. Not one for crowds, I slipped to the back towards the reflective glass building (le Ponant de Paris) where there were very few people.
The photos are from my Nikon – I normally use a cheap point and click for blog photos, but just occasionally I’ll slog my heavy DSLR along. Unfortunately I have to reduce the size and quality considerably as I’m aware my page is getting a little photo intensive!
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I’m not sure at what point controversy becomes crass when you’re working on the principal that even bad publicity is still publicity. It’s why I am reluctant to even post the above photograph at all. Returning from a Japanese restaurant near Opera Paris, late in the evening, this shop front display featured a taxidermy tiger, mannequin and backdrop featuring a live tiger wearing the mother of all diamonds around its neck. There were large shards of broken glass around the pavement outside the window, but the shop window was in tact, which made me wonder if it had been a previous assault on distaste. Nearly everyone who passed by it (few though there were at this time of the evening) wore faces painted with disdain.
So that was the end of my evening. The beginning started with a meal in a nice Japanese restaurant called Kintaro (website here). The food is extremely well priced, very tasty and the staff friendly, although if you want to book it has to be before 8pm. After 8pm you may have to queue a while to get a table. There were four of us of English, French, Chinese and Italian origins with conversations in English, French, Italian and even a splattering of Japanese, but my brain only focused on the English and French (the latter being enough to use up all my energy). We previously visited this same restaurant a month ago as a surprise evening for my girlfriend’s birthday. Some big chaps came into the restaurant as we sat down, and my girlfriend recognised one of them as Joey Starr from the rap band NTM (see here). I’ve no idea who they are, but apparently they’ve been big in France for a good number of years now (she had one of their CD’s when she was still a teenager). If you’re in Paris and fancy a Japanese meal on a budget then Kintaro would be my recommendation (and I’ve eaten at quite a few Japanese Parisian restaurants) – great value for money, and a potential celebrity hang-out! |
