Dumbstruck with the Sweetness of Being
November 7-9, 2015
Kirb was devastated when he found out that his favorite musician and most-beloved famous human Joanna Newsom was going to be playing in Berlin while we would be out of town traveling. In fact, he was so distraught with the idea of missing her performance while we were in Morocco that he threatened to come home early by himself more than once, but Mazz wasn't having any of that. He sulked not-so-quietly for a while, then looked at her schedule and saw that she was going to be finishing her tour in Paris the following weekend. Round trip flights between Berlin and Paris were surprisingly only €50, and there was an affordable Airbnb for that weekend right next to the Sacré-Cœur. It took little convincing to get Mazz on board, so we booked our tickets within hours of making the plan.
We had just spent two less-than-relaxing weeks in Morocco, and would have happily crashed on the couch for the entire weekend after that trip. Instead we landed in Berlin on Friday evening, packed fresh weekend bags, and flew out to France the following afternoon.
Our Airbnb host was a hip Parisian musician who rented out his tiny flat for extra cash and then stayed with his girlfriend. We asked him for a dinner recommendation somewhere that locals go, and he recommended a small restaurant called La Part des Anges. We got the last available table, and were happy to see that this was clearly not a place for tourists. This was the first traditional French meal either of us had ever eaten, and we were delighted by how great the food was. We ordered escargots à la charentaise and a flaky tomato, basil, and goat cheese crostini to start, with a carafe of Domaine de Viranel "Trilogie" Rouge. For entrees we got perfectly cooked duck in wine sauce and pork with homemade mustard. The food was rich and deeply satisfying, and though we had both eaten plenty of French dishes in the past, we wondered why we had never gone to specifically French restaurants before physically traveling to France.
We didn't have much of an agenda for our weekend in Paris. We essentially only had one full day in town, and figured it would be pretty easy to fill between eating the food we wanted and seeing key sights. Our morning started in a nearby café with a croque madame, cured ham and goat cheese toast, and coffees, then we made our way to Montmartre to Le Grenier à Pain, winner of the "Best Baguette in Paris" competition in 2015. The line for their baked goods was out the door, which was understandable considering the hype, and we were happy to join in the queue. Both of us firmly believe that if you see a long line at an eatery in a city you are not familiar with, you should absolutely get in that line, because more often than not it's going to be worth the wait, no matter what you're in line for.
We became familiar with the French pastry kouign amann while we were living in Seattle. There was a wonderful little bakery in our neighborhood called Crumble and Flake, and their kouign amann is one of the best pastries we have ever eaten. We were very excited to see that Le Grenier à Pain also offered them, so we picked up a couple with our baguette. The pastries would be a snack later in the day; the baguette was being saved for a dinner picnic.
The next item on our picnic grocery list was fancy French cheese. You can't eat the best baguette in Paris without some nice cheese to go with it, right? The city was in full Autumnal splendor, with the leaves turning and beginning to fall off the trees, but the weather was still pleasant enough to walk around without a jacket, so we set off from Montmartre and decided to walk to a local farmers market. We passed many a cheese shop and always ogled at the soft, runny cheeses in the display cases, but foolishly didn't buy any, thinking we had plenty of time left in the day and more chances to buy, which would hopefully culminate in an excellent local farmers market find. Once we finally arrived, we found the selections to be not particularly inspiring, and decided to take our chances on finding another of the wonderful cheese shops that we had been passing on our way. As the day wore on, we realized we were nowhere near any more street markets, and the stores were all closing because it was Sunday. We ended up having to settle for prepackaged cheese from a corner market, but it was still French and still delicious so we didn't get down on ourselves too hard. We also bought some perfectly ripe pears, clementines, and a bottle of pink wine to wash it all down.
It's pretty hard to walk anywhere in Paris without stumbling on something of great historical or cultural significance. Eventually we happened upon the Louvre, where we meandered through its massive courtyard and into the Tuileries Garden to soak in the incredible architecture and statues before having a seat and tucking into our baked goods. The setting and scenario made it impossible to have an unbiased opinion as to whether our Parisian kouign amanns were better than the ones at Crumble and Flake, but they were definitely top-notch pastries.
Next we headed to the Eiffel Tower on foot and made it just as the sun was starting to set. After some failed attempts at getting other tourists to take a nice photo of the two of us in front of the tower (seriously, how hard is it to properly frame a picture of people standing in front of the Eiffel Tower) we found a secluded patch of grass in the Champ de Mars for an idyllic sunset picnic with our baguette, corner store French cheese, fruit, and wine. Enjoying a perfect meal in one of the world's most iconic and gorgeous settings, we both couldn’t help but wonder, "How is this our life?" When the sun set completely, the tower became completely covered in lights, which emitted an epilepsy-inducing strobe show as we enjoyed the rest of our pink wine.
The concert that evening was being held at a gorgeous venue called Salle Gaveau, which was built in 1905 for piano and chamber music. We had bought tickets almost the moment they went on sale, so we had excellent seats in the 1000-person capacity room. Joanna Newsom sings and plays the harp and piano with inimitable grace and skill, and her closer, "Time, As a Symptom," moved Kirb to tears. It is hard to imagine a more perfect day in a more magical place.
There was just enough time the next morning before we had to get to the airport to find some properly ripe, runny cheese from a legitimate cheese monger. We had no idea what most of the stuff in the case was, so we blindly ordered two kinds that looked promising. We grabbed a baguette from a bakery around the corner sat down at a café, where we ordered coffees and tucked into our final French meal. Anthony Bourdain contends that there are few things finer than a pungent, runny French cheese, and I think we got one he would have loved. It was a bit much for both of our palates, which have been dulled by unadventurous German cuisine, but Kirb soldiered on with it after the initial overwhelmingness and eventually found some delight hidden in the tremendous funk.
Less than 48 hours is not enough time to do Paris justice. There is so much to do and see that you can easily feel like you've missed more than you've experienced. But if you can only make it there for a weekend, 48 hours in Paris is plenty of time to remind you what a charmed life you live, and how lucky you are to be living it. The weekend after our visit, Paris was hit by a wave of coordinated suicide bombings and mass-shootings that killed 130 people, including 89 at the Bataclan music venue which was hosting a concert not so different from the one we had attended. Life is beautiful and disgusting and more than anything it is fleeting, and the difference between a dream and a nightmare can be as little as a week on a schedule. Have a good time all the time and don't take any of it for granted.