Paris, France One observation since our last trip here five years ago: Paris is suddenly a city where almost everyone has a smattering of English, including sign-makers and advertisers, so things have really changed from our very first trip 50 years ago.
We got a late start this morning because our bed was so comfortable, plus we lost an hour coming from London. After a quick café breakfast, we took the Metro to the newly refurbished Musée Carnavalet, which is dedicated to the history of Paris. The building is a combination of both a 16th and 17th century mansion, now glued together with very modern staircases and open spaces.
There are ornate period rooms, artifacts of the Revolution, commercial signage of early Paris, and memorabilia of the famous.
Here’s Ben Franklin in his glory days, accepting the signed treaty between France and the United States. Here’s hoping it lasts.
And then there’s Voltaire’s writing chair, Proust’s bedroom, with the bed in which he wrote of madeleines, and the office of Gertrude Stein, in which she colluded with the Nazis.
So many other wonderful bits of art and history, even including the 2024 Olympic torches, and the painting of Napoleon III giving Baron Haussmann the contract to do as he pleased with the city of Paris.
Enjoy a tour of the centuries.
The most stunning exhibit was the compete storefront and interior of Fouquet’s jewelry store on the Rue Royale. The shop opened in 1901 and was an immediate success.
In 1941 Fouquet gave each piece to the Musée Carnavalet for safekeeping. In 1989 the reconstruction of the boutique was completed. It is considered one of the most spectacular examples of Art Nouveau decorative design.
The museum was definitely worthy of a revisit.
Don’s Food Corner
We searched out some more French classics at a café off of the Place de Voges.
It wasn’t as successful as yesterday’s meal, but it had all the classic hallmarks.
Despite fear of retribution from our more gentle readers, we started with a serving of fois gras with a plum chutney. Sorry, but there’s else nothing like it.
I ordered the beef Bourguignon. It had all the favor you’d want in a beef Bourguignon — big chunks of beef, “turned” boiled potatoes, carrots and some onions swimming in rich sauce as well. I thought the sauce was a little too thin. But we’re applying high standards here.
Jo had chicken with a mushroom sauce, and a big pile of mashed potatoes. The mashed potatoes weren’t as fine as we had yesterday, but the superb mushroom sauce made up for it.
A note about yesterday’s meal: When we exited the brasserie, I walked ahead — or, rather, limped ahead, with an injured foot dragging and my cane clacking away. Jo followed, but the maitre d’ immediately took her by the arm and escorted her to the door, I guess because I hadn’t. A woman abandoned? Not in Paris.