Post by Ella
We. ebbed and flowed today. I am a Monet fan so that’s where we started the day. The Monet museum lacked a few of the huge canvases I had remembered from 2018. But still, some inspiring works. The temporary exhibition of trompe l’oeil (“deceives the eye”) was unique. It was crowded but not mobbed. We took our time.
Time for a sugar and caffeine intake, I managed to find the patisserie I remembered going to that was right down the street from the museum. That cherry / raspberry tart was a taste sensation.
We wandered in the upscale neighborhoods surrounding the Monet Museum eventually turning towards the Seine. I thought it would be a kick to see the Statue of Liberty which is on a small spit of land in the middle of the river.
Before we got far, I saw a sign pointing towards Balzac’s house and pointed it out to Grubb. His slow moving pace turned into a beeline in the direction of the arrow. It was a sweet little house and garden. In Balzac’s time, this area was outside Paris and relatively isolated. I admit, I came away inspired to read a little Balzac.
Most of the quotes scattered on the walls were in French. Only a few had been translated. So I googled. Here is what google’s AI found interesting enough to highlight: “Behind every great fortune lies a great crime” Hmmm, AI. Just what are you implying?
Goodreads found “Reading brings us unknown friends”. I can attest to that. Especially when I binge read a good series.
Grubb pointed out I was lucky to be married to someone who owned nearly every Balzac work ever published. Groan.
After the Balzac detour, Grubb got it in his head to see the Marcel Proust house which was a bus ride back in the other direction. Okay, okay, but let’s at least take a peek at this French Statue of Liberty first. And there it was. With a floating spherical orb in the distance.
We took the number 72 bus and then walked a few minutes to find a large address plaque on a hotel announcing this as Proust’s residence. That’s it. You couldn’t go in. We had a laugh about that. At least the bus ride had brought us closer to the Pigalle area and Boulevard de Clichy where Henry Miller once roamed when the place had been lined with dives ala New York’s 42nd Street. Now there were sex shops and, well, that’s it. (Grubb took all the pics here. He’s gonna share sooner or later)
We were now technically back in Montmartre where we’d seen tons of restaurants and cafes a few days ago. Or maybe just yesterday. Who can remember? Anyway, time for dinner. We headed uphill. Took 30 minutes of perusing menus before we found one we both agreed on. Turned out to be an excellent choice.
Grilled herring appetizer to share. The herring had a delectable smoky flavor. Grubb got a cassoulet of white beans, sausage and duck. He kept ecstatically sighing. I surmise the cassoulet was great. I got Escallop of chicken. A thin slice of roasted chicken in cream sauce served with thinly sliced roasted potatoes. I added a gin fizz to accent the meal. There must have been a secret ingredient because I don’t remember gin fizzes being quite so tangy.
Time to head home. The number 54 bus dropped us just across from our building. A stop at the market to replenish our supply of Peligrino, bananas and yogurt and then we were back at the apartment, taking a load off the feet and starting our daily blogs. A nice way to replay the day.
Gascony is famous for its cuisine, which is very different than the haute cuisine of Paris and Lyon (or the Mediterranean influenced cuisine of the south). Grubb picked wisely — cassoulet is very traditional.