Thursday, October 25, 2007
P15e continued
But first a couple of factoids, learnt from a Dutchman. First, that pagan comes from a word meaning countryside, the idea being in those days that civilised Christians lived in towns and all kinds of odds and sods lived in the countryside. Heathen (despite some ifs and buts in OED) appears to be a loose translation, heathens (quite obviously after the event) being people who live in the wild and woolly heath. Second, in the possibly incorrect belief that the Irish were wild and woolly and needed civilising, a 12th century Pope made a present of Ireland to Henry II. The English kings then held Ireland of the Pope, as lords, until a later Henry, number 8, declared himself independant of the Pope and hence king rather than lord of Ireland. Sadly, the story is rather spoilt by the Pope in question being an Englishman, the only one who ever made it to the Papacy.
Reacting to a Parisian disdain for cabbage, have now had cabbage soup for lunch two days running. Recipe 1: put pearl barley in water for a while with a vegetable stock cube. Bring to boil and add thinly sliced carrot. After a while add thinly sliced white cabbage. At the end, add chopped saucisson sec (left over from the Isle St Louis). Result a little salty but eminently eatable. Recipe 2: put pearl barley in water for a while omitting vegetable stock cube. Add coarsely chopped pork fillet. Boil for a while. Add thinly sliced white cabbage. At the end add sliced button mushrooms. A rather superior dish to the first - but then it was a good deal more expensive. Very attractive visually and pork fillet does a much better job than belly pork. Worth the extra money.
Returning to Paris. On arrival day 1 did not do that much beyond eat. Took in a bar-tabac in the Rue de Commerce on the way to have a smoke (a luxury denied at home) where we came across our first old lady drunk. Was also able to buy some Fleur de Savane which I used to like but which on this occasion were far too dry. Attempts to wet them not very sucessful. Then to a largeish cross-roads cafe where I had a salad composed mainly of string beans. Good, especially as the waiter managed to get the dressing omitted. Forgot what BH had - another sort of salad I think. A sign in the eating area informed us that, as part of a softening up process, clients were invited not to smoke between the hours of 1200 and 1500. Perhaps the French are about to cave in to the regulators.
Day 2, on foot to the Pont de Grenelle, then along the Allee des Cynes, across the river and onto the Trocodero, partly taken over by a combination of end poverty now people and rugby people. Flipped a coin and wound up in the moullage museum, rather than the anthropological one. On closer inspection it turned out to be nothing to do with mussels, despite a continental prediliction for same, rather an assembly of plaster casts of interesting bits of mediaeval buildings (some of which, it seems no longer exist in the stone). Much of which seemed to be given over to representations of the judgement day. Angels helping people out of coffins, monsters and that sort of thing. Plus clearly entire donkeys. We were lucky in that the whole place had just been made over and was looking most impressive. On a second floor a rather contrasting collection of models made in connection with various post war building projects. On exit, a second bar-tabac, just clearing of its office worker lunch breakers at around 1445. Then to St Pierre de Chaillot, a large church built in the 1930's and replacing an outgrown predecessor. Unusual carvings around the front door; rather dark and with large octagonal lantern made of concrete dominating the interior. I rather liked it; BH not impressed. Then to the American cathedral in Paris, consecrated 50 years before St Pierre and built in what we would call Victorian gothic. All very large, but curiously unimpressive. Did not have a very churchy feel about the place. Metro home, followed by meal in a bistro de quartier. Hot meals mainly off despite Mum the cook being in the house, but we had another good round of salad. In my case an Auvergne salad - which, amongst other things and rather to my surprise, contained lumps of cold boiled potato.
Reacting to a Parisian disdain for cabbage, have now had cabbage soup for lunch two days running. Recipe 1: put pearl barley in water for a while with a vegetable stock cube. Bring to boil and add thinly sliced carrot. After a while add thinly sliced white cabbage. At the end, add chopped saucisson sec (left over from the Isle St Louis). Result a little salty but eminently eatable. Recipe 2: put pearl barley in water for a while omitting vegetable stock cube. Add coarsely chopped pork fillet. Boil for a while. Add thinly sliced white cabbage. At the end add sliced button mushrooms. A rather superior dish to the first - but then it was a good deal more expensive. Very attractive visually and pork fillet does a much better job than belly pork. Worth the extra money.
Returning to Paris. On arrival day 1 did not do that much beyond eat. Took in a bar-tabac in the Rue de Commerce on the way to have a smoke (a luxury denied at home) where we came across our first old lady drunk. Was also able to buy some Fleur de Savane which I used to like but which on this occasion were far too dry. Attempts to wet them not very sucessful. Then to a largeish cross-roads cafe where I had a salad composed mainly of string beans. Good, especially as the waiter managed to get the dressing omitted. Forgot what BH had - another sort of salad I think. A sign in the eating area informed us that, as part of a softening up process, clients were invited not to smoke between the hours of 1200 and 1500. Perhaps the French are about to cave in to the regulators.
Day 2, on foot to the Pont de Grenelle, then along the Allee des Cynes, across the river and onto the Trocodero, partly taken over by a combination of end poverty now people and rugby people. Flipped a coin and wound up in the moullage museum, rather than the anthropological one. On closer inspection it turned out to be nothing to do with mussels, despite a continental prediliction for same, rather an assembly of plaster casts of interesting bits of mediaeval buildings (some of which, it seems no longer exist in the stone). Much of which seemed to be given over to representations of the judgement day. Angels helping people out of coffins, monsters and that sort of thing. Plus clearly entire donkeys. We were lucky in that the whole place had just been made over and was looking most impressive. On a second floor a rather contrasting collection of models made in connection with various post war building projects. On exit, a second bar-tabac, just clearing of its office worker lunch breakers at around 1445. Then to St Pierre de Chaillot, a large church built in the 1930's and replacing an outgrown predecessor. Unusual carvings around the front door; rather dark and with large octagonal lantern made of concrete dominating the interior. I rather liked it; BH not impressed. Then to the American cathedral in Paris, consecrated 50 years before St Pierre and built in what we would call Victorian gothic. All very large, but curiously unimpressive. Did not have a very churchy feel about the place. Metro home, followed by meal in a bistro de quartier. Hot meals mainly off despite Mum the cook being in the house, but we had another good round of salad. In my case an Auvergne salad - which, amongst other things and rather to my surprise, contained lumps of cold boiled potato.
# posted by Jim @ 6:26 AM 
