Thurs May 20th: E. Dehillerin, Au Pied de Cochon

I woke up to the sound of sirens this morning... lots of sirens. Discovered later that there was a big art heist at a nearby museum last night. My alibi - after yesterday's grueling day, I couldn't walk through a museum. I didn't see anything unusual (no stocking masked guys, no big canvas bags with dollar signs painted on them) last night as I headed back from the book signing.

E. Dehillerin
In Preparation for my second visit tp E. Dehillerin, I have this phrase ready, "Quie est le prix?" (what is the price?). Nothing has price marked. One of the gentlemen needs to look in the book. I love this shop. Today, despite sore muscles, I was determined to venture to the downstairs area.

Today's experience was very different thanks to an especially sweet young man named Kim who helped me. Kim kiddingly accused me of being a spy for Williams Sonoma. I overheard a woman talking with Kim. She wanted a pepper grinder and she was very specific (and didn't want to spend a ton of money). I was curious about what Kim would recommend and followed. When Kim got the pepper grinders down, I admitted that I had been listening to their conversation and I would like one as well. The woman was a kick, "Don't you love this place?" "Yes I do. It's my second visit," I replied. Cynthia started telling me about her culinary quests in Paris. I was spellbound.

As we made out way up to the table and cashier area, we stopped and spoke for another 15 minutes or so. Her name was Cynthia and she was from Toronto. Although she'd had two weeks in Paris, she had a visitor that stayed too long and she had been sick. She had three days left and was determined to make up for lost time. After checking out, Cynthia asked if I'd like to get coffee. I told her that I was headed to Au Pied de Cochon for dinner. She shrieked, Au Pied de Cochon was on her list. We were definitely kindred spirits. I was ready to break my rule about going to Paris and hanging out with English speaking people.

Dinner at Au Pied de Cochon
Au Pied de Cochon sounds oh-so-romantic and it translates to "the foot of the pig." The restaurant is near the original Les Halles (wholesale food area) and it is where Julia Child would regularly stop to have their famous onion soup.

Cynthia pulled out her print-off to show me that Au Pied de Cochon was on her list. Cynthia had a treasure trove in her bag. She pulled out multiple varieties of sel du mer (sea salt). One was infused with vanilla bean smelled heavenly. I told Cynthia all about the cooking classes and the Julia Child tour. Cynthia also follows David Lebovitz. Yes, we definitely are kindred spirits.

The Special Menu
Cynthia speaks French very well. I was a bit tired and having a tough time navigating the menu at Au Pied de Cochon. Cynthia looked at it and started laughing, "This isn't French, I think it's Russian." "That's great, at least they didn't assume I'm American," I laughed. Once I had the English menu, I was set.

Au Pied de Cochon is a beautiful restaurant with a quiet park setting out front. So much more relaxing than the sidewalk cafes on busy streets with noise and exhaust, Cynthia noted. I couldn't agree more. The conversation flowed effortlessly and we had probably been there over an hour before we ordered.

Cynthia and I each had a bowl of the onion soup (considered one of the best in Paris). It did not disappoint, it was excellent. Cynthia had fresh oysters and I had the specialty, the Pied au Cochon - a pig's foot with a special spice rub. I'm not sure if it was fried or braised. It was served with bearnaise sauce and frites (fries). It was very good but very rich. David (aka Mr. foie gras) would absolutely love this.

By the time we finished our meal, and we had both started yawning, we exchanged email info and headed to the corner. I knew it was late but I was shocked that it was almost 11pm. We had been at the restaurant for over five hours. n all that time the waiter never stoppped by unprompted. We weren't rushed (and the restaurant was very busy). Most of the diners were French, which I always think is a good sign.

Cynthia and I walked to the corner hugged before parting ways. I felt like walking for a bit before heading back to the apartment.

Walk on the Wild Side
Later in the evening, some areas in Paris are very quiet, very dark. After venturing a few blocks, the cafes and bistros were less frequent. The streets got darker and some of the people I passed by were, let's say, interesting. At one point, a woman walked up to me to ask something As she began to speak, I looked at her, definitely a crack you-know-what. "No Francais."

I have done a good amount of traveling on my own and my instincts kicked in. I headed back toward the brighter, busier areas. I passed a very busy upscale nightclub called Le Cab. There was a long line of very well dressed people behind the ropes waiting to get in. There were also some gorgeous cars parked out front including a red Ferrarari and a yellow Lambhorgini. Definitely a happening place, I thought.

I walked a bit further and grabbed a taxi in front of the Hotel du Louvre.
It felt great to get back to the apartment.

Bonne Nuit