I know ‘this’ Friday is France-New Zealand footy day, but come on, take some deep breaths, it’ll be OK. But it’s Friday and that’s Kiwi Overboard day, so let’s not chitty-chat about footy; let’s chat about Paris, the world’s most-visited city and the things to see and do in Paris, most of which involve eating and drinking.
Paris-Brest is one of my favourite reasons to visit Paris: a large wheel of choux pastry filled with hazelnut butter cream and topped with toasted sliced almonds. Served with a fork and a small-ish black coffee. It’s big and I think that means you’re supposed to share… pfft, as if that’s a thing when you’re a Kiwi Overboard in Paris.
There are baguettes which of course we have in eN-Zed, but somehow, when your baguette is on a plate near the Place de Bastille and it’s filled with camembert and jambon and Dijon mustard and it’s followed by a few bursting-full chocolate éclairs, it’s just better than if you’re in the tea rooms in Dinsdale, you know.
A day spent in the Louvre gawking at Moaning Lisa and Lady Liberty Leading the Way is best finished off with a hearty Boeuf Bourguignon and a large glass of burgundy, or maybe a plate of escargot swimming in garlic butter, or perhaps foie gras if your cholesterol levels can cope…
And when you’re finally fed up in Paris, it’s a very fast train from there out to Strasbourg which might well be ground zero for the world’s best food, chocolate shops and patisseries. A short train ride will get you to Colmar where you’ll find outdoor restaurants that serve freshly-baked duck mushroom and blackcurrant pies. Foie-gras and escargot and Boeuf Bourguignon are all very well, but a pie, well… I wrote about pies just a few days ago…, the good Frenchies of Colmar know about pies too. They understand. Pies aren’t posh so you can get your duck pie (or pies) to take away, in a brown paper bag too.
Not far from Strasbourg is Nancy, not Aunty Nancy, I mean the city. It’s the Lorraine region of France as in Quiche Lorraine which is, of course, a fine snack between your breakfast of freshly-baked, crispy croissants with strawberry jam and your duck pie lunch.
But I didn’t visit Lorraine and Aunty Nancy for their quiche. Nancy is steak-central. I arrived by train, checked into my simple 2-star hotel and headed out for a mid-afternoon lunch. In a deserted restaurant I asked in my School Cert French for a steak, medium, with mashed potato and onion gravy, s’il vous plait – of course. Let’s pause here for a moment while I compose myself…
That steak, it was about twenty years ago but it’s still very fresh in my memory, was beyond my wildest dreams good. Washed down with a monster-sized glass of red wine, that steak was thick-ish but gentle, sweet, soft, melty in the mouthy good – off the scale good. Spectacular! Sen-flipping-sational. And when I finished I looked sadly at the empty plate, tears welling up in my eyes like when you miss your best friend and you feel homesick all at the same time. Oh well, this is France, there’s always dessert.
And sure enough, the waiter arrived, pushing a dessert trolley that groaned under the weight of gateaux, cream-filled pastries, and a really inviting, golden-orange apricot tarte. But… not inviting enough. He asked if I wanted dessert and I said, ‘Oui please, but for dessert, I’d like another steak, done exactly like that first one. S’il vous plait.’
I’ll forgive that ratbag Frenchy rugby player Sébastien Chabal, I’ll forgive that missed forward pass in that game, and I might one day forgive those scumbags who blew up the Rainbow Warrior. I’ll forgive and forget all of that, because of Paris-Brest and éclairs and steak with mashed potato and oniony gravy. Forgiving and forgetting is almost as good as anticipating your next trip to France.
eN-Zed 