On the Road

— Sydne George

Hemingway once said, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a movable feast.”

Having been fortunate enough to spend a week in Paris this summer, I’d have to agree.

Perusing Patricia Wells’ “Food Lover’s Guide to Paris” for restau­rants near the apartment we were renting, I found Ambassade D’Au­vergne, where we dined on our first night there.

The drama of their traditional tableside whipping of aligot, their sig­nature side dish consisting of pota­toes, cheese and garlic, is alive and well. My roast chicken with more cream, cooked to perfection and deli­cately sauced, arrived adorned with peeled fingerling potatoes so tenderly sauteed they melted in my mouth. The wineWells recommended, Chan­turgue, a pinot noir from vineyards near Clermont-Ferrand, whispered of berries and paired perfectly with the earthy morel sauce.

Walking to a nearby brasserie rec­ommended by Rick Steves in his Paris guidebook proved a great choice on our second night. I savored every bite of the Brochettes du Boeuf Grille aux Herbes atop a bed of the provincial vegetable ratatouille, bursting with fresh seasonal flavors, and every sip of the Cotes du Rhone.

No self-respecting food enthusiast makes the trip to Paris without stop­ping at La Grande Epicerie, the gourmet grocery in the Bon Marche.

My nervous excitement got the best of me as we inched closer to our destination. Wandering through the ground floor of the Bon Marche, I approached a cosmetics clerk and blurted out, “Je m’appelle Anglais,” meaning to ask her if she spoke Eng­lish and instead telling her my name was English. Feeling foolish and reacting to her dumbfounded response, we quickly turned and left the building only to find La Grande Epicerie directly across the street.

Oh, to have unlimited time and money in La Grande Epicerie. I could have spent the whole day there drool­ing over gourmet delicacies from around the world. Our best find was the macaron cafe, a crisp coffee-fla­vored French macaron filled with melt-in-your-mouth coffee cream.

The next day included a visit to the Musee Rodin and lunch at their museum cafe. My husband, Mike, ordered the plat du jour which includ­ed a square of their gratin dauphi­nois, a side dish of thinly sliced pota­toes layered with cream and cheese and baked into a heavenly heap.

A highlight for all of us was dining at the Eiffel Tower on day six of our trip, where we enjoyed fine food, spectacular views and exceptional service. It was here at 58 Tour Eiffel, their first-floor restaurant, that our fruit salad dessert featured pitaya, a white fruit with tiny black seeds, which tasted much like a mild fla­vored watermelon.

Our waiter told me pitaya comes from Thailand and finally wrote down fruit’s name after I repeatedly asked for the spelling of the word.

All good things must come to an end, and suddenly it was our last day in Paris. Feeling obligated to sample something spectacular before we left, we returned to La Fougasse, a favorite boulangerie close to our apartment, for one last pastry.

We were not alone in our quest. The line of loyal customers wound down the block this Sunday morning. I ordered a Choux Chantilly avec Framboises which was truly out of this world, kept the signature doily it arrived upon and vowed to replicate the recipe to the best of my abilities upon my return. Au revoir!

Choux Chantilly avec Framboises