Today I am torn between getting this blog post done and working on a pattern. Sooooooo, having spent about 3 hours on the spreadsheet for grading sizes, I think I’ll take a break and do this. I can’t believe I’m still in Paris! This photo was the floor in the “mall” where we went for the most expensive and Parisian coffee experience possible.
Monday was designated as a shopping day because museums are closed. I am totally jazzed because there is an entire Gabor shoe shop within blocks of our hotel. I have brought a total of three pairs of shoes with me: olive Gabor low cut booties, my only fancy shoes (pewter and copper) and a pair of suede (two tone) Cole Haan “trainers.” I ended up bringing the trainers because I felt I couldn’t possibly wear heels every day or my tight heels might never loosen up. But truly, the Gabors are so comfy I am happy to wear them walking all over. But I can’t find another style I like in the US. As we wander around it becomes clear that nothing is open. It will be a shopping holiday as well as a national holiday. We finally decide to pack it in because it is cold and we’re not finding anything interesting to do. We find another bistro with unremarkable food, but we have a nice bottle of wine which makes an afternoon nap a real possibility.
The dinner options, as I had speculated to Mitch earlier, are much better than lunch options. I had noticed in Barcelona that restaurants were closed Sunday and Monday lunch, then open for dinner. I thought we might find a larger number of offerings tonight. We walk around a bit trying to decide on which brasserie to go into. We finally agree on one that Mitch has dubbed “duck nine ways.” As we settle in we realize this is much more than nine ways. The entire menu is duck (maybe a chicken dish for those who don’t like duck) and foie gras and pate. Mitch wonders if it is even legal for Californians to be in here. Oddly, there are toasters on the table which doesn’t do much to put Mitch at ease with our choice (I love duck, so will eat it almost any way offered).
As we contemplate the menu and our fellow diners it appears that the toaster is so your bread is warm when you spread your pate. We decide against pate in favor of a more rustic shredded duck spread. We have fun toasting our bread as Mitch’s skepticism about the whole experience relaxes. The spread is wonderful. I have duck confit (my favorite) and he duck breast, both accompanied by potato rounds (cooked in duck fat–this is serious Duck Dining). The wine is good and it is a fun evening, A perfect last meal in Paris. We finish with profiteroles. This was a prix fix dinner and perhaps the cheapest one yet.
We go back to the hotel, set the alarm and finish packing for our flight to London, then to NYC tomorrow.