My sweet friend is now in the good hands of Continental Airlines, following the arching arrow on the airplane screen as it slowly, slowly creeps toward Houston. I know they won’t feed her as well as Paris did, but that’s OK, because she is probably still full from the eating marathon we enjoyed together. But enough about the food. I promised a re-cap of the things we did that did not require a fork or a glass. SO.
First we went to the Musee de Luxembourg, a small museum in the Luxembourg Gardens which is hosting a wonderful exhibit entitled “Cezanne in Paris”. We both love Cezanne, and this was a delightfully intimate display of his work, with no crowds.
The next day we hit the Musee de Cluny, which is the National Museum of the Middle Ages. The building is gorgeous, and the grounds include some wonderful Gallo-roman thermal baths built around the first century. The museum is home to an impressive collection of Medieval tapestries, sculptures, paintings, jewelry, and stained glass windows from the 5th to the 15th centuries.
Despite the freezing cold that gripped the city, we walked all over it.
We looked at Impressionist art at the Musee d’Orsay. I sneaked a photo in the museum this time, because occasional civil disobedience is good for the soul.
We went to the Musee Carnavalet and revisited the exhibit on 19th century Parisians. We went to Shakespeare and Co. and bought some books. My friend engaged in a bit of civil disobedience herself, as the new store policy forbids photographs, and she snapped a few like this one. We just can’t help ourselves. We’re kind of Thelma and Louise-ish. Scoff-laws. Dangerous. That’s us.
Our last day together we had lunch at the Le Jules Verne, which is on the second platform of the Eiffel Tower. Dining at the “JV” is a memorable event indeed. The staff fell over themselves to anticipate our every need (including how to open the door of the very “space-age” bathroom) and made us feel like royalty. The food was delicious, and the view spectacular.
We fully intended for that three-hour lunch to be the final meal of our feeding frenzy. However, as we walked around that afternoon, trying desperately to recover feeling in our hands and feet, I got a text from Mlle. Cordon-Bleu that there was left-over puff pastry dough in our fridge. As in “made that day at the Cordon-Bleu” puff pastry dough. We immediately began plotting what evil we could do with that dough, and decided on Barefoot Contessa’s goat cheese and tomato tart. Two quick stops at the cheese shop and the produce store, and we were ready to make this little baby!
And that, my friends, was the final meal. And it was delicious.
I think that about covers our six short days loving Paris together. Mark returns tomorrow and is whisking me off on a surprise weekend to celebrate my looming birthday. Maybe London? I will let you know.
Bon weekend, wherever you go!