Le Marche des Enfants Rouges

I love food markets - both the open and closed varieties. They seem to exemplify the spirit of the people, the place and its culture. Hence, I always make it a point to try visit the local market if there is one on during my visit. A highlight of our recent visit to Paris was a visit to Le Marche des Enfants Rouges. It is reputed to be the oldest food market in Paris, built under the rule of Louis XIII around 1615. The name, which literally means the Market of the Red Children, refers to the red uniform worn by
the children of the orphanage that was located nearby.

We walked through a labyrinth of narrow winding streets, aristocratic castles and medieval architecture to reach the market. This area was home to the noblemen who wished to be near the King's residence in pre-revolution France.

Located in the chic Marais district, the market is alive with the rich, vibrant colours and smells of fresh fruits, vegetables, cheese and flowers and the sounds of market clatter and chatter. We stopped for a pre-lunch aperitif consisting of a refreshing glass of white wine and some delicious cheese from the "massif central". First stop was at the cheese sellers to ask for a recommendation that would not be too soft nor too hard and would be perfect for a sunny day in the out doors. Then to the bread stall for a baguette. Finally, to the wine seller to order four glasses of wine and then to find a nice table in the shade. Ah, what a delicious meal.

The market is an ideal spot for lunch too. Freshly cooked dishes can be bought from the various stalls (Moroccan, French, Italian, sushi, cheeses, meats) and consumed at the communal trestle tables at either end of the market. On our way back from the market we spotted Chez Omar, reputed to be the best Moroccan couscous restaurant in town.

Every arrondessiment in Paris has an open market on two days of the week. A few closed markets like this one are open all days of the week. The Marais being mostly Jewish is open on Sundays and is a great foddie option when most else is closed. To learn what it feels to be a local visit a marche on Saturday for some shopping, a drink and some wine and cheese or lunch.

Viola - A Knighting Ceremony!

What I like most about Paris is her ability to surprise me. You can expect some thing extra-ordinary at every turn. You never know when you will suddenly come face-to-face with ancient and beautiful architecture, a 15th century abbey, a stunning fountain or "butchers knighting ceremony". I never seized to be awe-struck and love to expect surprises.
We were walking towards the Tour Saint Jacques and came across a ceremony resplendent with colourful pageantry. There on the top of the flight of stairs lined by men in blue cloaks and white aprons stood a resplendent knight being being dubed on the shoulders by a sword. All around the grounds stood men in blue wearing white aprons, while the bands played on.
We wondered what it was we were witnessing and asked some locals. This apparently was a Butchers ceremony and knighting of the butchers. A serious gastronomical professional affair. And were we privileged to witness it.
The story goes that the Tower of Saint Jacques is the last remnant of the ancient church of Saint Jacques de Boucher (The patron saint of butchers). It was built in 1509 to 1523, during the reign of King Francis I.The ancient church and its landmark tower welcomed pilgrims setting out on the road that led to Tours and headed for the way of St James, which led to the major pilgrimage destination of Sant'Iago de Compostela. A statue of Blaise Pascal is located at the base of the tower, commemorating the experiments on atmospheric pressure and meteorological laboratory is currently installed at the top of the tower.This is said to be the inspiration behind Dumas' play La tour Saint-Jacques-de-la-boucherie .

Calvados

We had heard of it and did not wonder much. All I wanted was good Cidre from Normandy, until we tasted Calvados. Magic potion or apple brandy.
M.Lemessier our landlord at Bayeux is also a Calvados judge and he was kind
enough open several bottles of Calvados for a tasting. To learn to differentiate
the 4 year old from an 8 year old and a 20 year old and to discern the difference between sugar induced liqueurs and a pure pomme.
We learnt of specialized glasses and how to hold them to keep the Calvados warm. Went hunting for the glasses and the cheese to accompany the Calvados.Delicious "stinky as my shoes" Camembert, Pont-l'Evêque and Levarot. Levarot used to be the poor peoples cheese,made of the water from the whey left over from butter.Still delicious.
So we went to the marche. Absolutely fantastic market. The bustle, the livestock, the fruits and the colours. It was a dream to be there in a true farmers market...the ones in the U.S are great but this was heaven.

Vegetarian Alcoholic!

What is normal in one world is rather strange in another. Our world views influence normalcy. Hence, a vegetarian who does not mind an occasional glass of wine is considered part of the norm in urban India and is a bit of an oddity in the west. France and Belgium have grown more vegetarian friendly than I remember. Yet, a vegetarian meal continues to be a tasteless pile of odd vegetables. What is nice though are the vegetarian entrees as a part of a formula. Practicing vegetarians tend to be more spiritual.
And so my host recently stated with a bit of incredulity: "you are a vegetarian alcoholic!"
Yes indeed I am - happy with my vegetable ravioli and the lovely glass of white wine:) and yes, i do eat cheese please. Love it indeed. No, no meat or fish:)and no am not an alcoholic. I do drink wine, though.
As I found out, that getting into a dialogue about my strange eating habits leads to being allowed to share a formula. Used to be unheard of - but then I am a vegetarian alcoholic. Cannot expect normal sane behavior from one...

Why eat cake when there is bread?

For there are breads and then there are french breads and finally there are pain's from Eric Kayser. One of my first activities after moving into a rental apartment in France is to go and find my nearest boulangerie for early morning breakfast runs. One of my favourite meals when in France. We got lucky to have Kayser as our local baker this last trip to Paris.

So it was a daily exercise in pleasure - whether to eat a pain au raisin, a chocolatine, bessaine or a baguette céréale. Ah, when you can have bread like that one goes straight to heaven. To have 60 varieties to choose from wakes you up.

And throw in some eclairs and tarte framboise (a crispy crust that melts in your mouth filled with delicate fromage blanc),paris-brest (filled with fresh cream and goodness) and chocolat royale for tea. Why oh why are there no true artisinal boulangeries in the US?