Thanksgiving in Paris

My wife and I decided to travel to Paris this weekend to spend some time with her friends.  It was Thanksgiving weekend in the U.S. and I was really craving turkey, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie.  Although I was not able to partake in an American style feast nor watch football in the turkey induced food-coma state of mind, I was able to partake in some delicious French food in the City of Lights and visit a number of the city’s neighborhoods.   

We had an exceptional time visiting a number of popular Paris neighborhoods, Eiffel Tower, famous Christmas displays at the massive Printemps store, and plenty of other sites.  The first evening, we were able to visit the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur de Montmartre, a stunning roman church that is perched on top of one of the tallest hills in Paris providing a panoramic view of the evening lights of Paris.  The name of the church means the Sacred Heart of Christ and was placed on the Mount of Martyrs (Montmartre).  It had served as a place of worship dating back to the 4^th century and a large number of Christians were martyred on the hilltop in the 9^th century.    The architecture of the basilica is rather unique for a roman catholic church.  The bulbous-shaped domes of the basilica resemble those of the Taj Mahal as opposed to the more linear shaped design that you find in Notre Dame with its square shaped towers.  It took 44 years to build the basilica, 17 years just to install all of the stained glass windows.  The basilica is dedicated to prayer and has a banner hanging on the front of the church stating, “For 125 years, Here, Day and Night, Somebody has been praying to the Lord.” 

We left the Basilica and returned to our friends’ apartment, which is located in an immigrant neighborhood in the 18^th arrondissement.  Paris is divided into 20 different arrondissements or districts.  The numbering starts at 1 in the center of the city and spirals outwards in a clockwise direction.  The 18^th arrondissement has a tarnished reputation due to high poverty and crime rates; however, it boasts one of the most diverse food scenes that I have seen in Paris.  Part of the food attraction was the number of West African restaurants although I saw French, Asian, Turkish, and Algerian restaurants as well.  Just on the few streets that we explored, I saw close to a dozen West African restaurants and plenty more specialty food stores supporting this local food niche.  One small grocery store that we entered, offered several varieties of dried and smoked fish that are popular in West African sauces.  I also spotted the Ivorian specialty of attiéké.  Attiéké is a sort of couscous that is made from cassava, a starchy root vegetable.  The smoked fish smell was a little pungent but the exhaust from several of the restaurants that wafted up the street reminded me of spicy peanut sauces and deep fried plantains.  My mind was flooded with images of dusty road-side cafes, sitting on rickety wooden chairs, and eating hot meals in the oppressively hot-humid climate.

Although we did not sample any of West Africa’s delicious cuisine, we did visit a small French restaurant in the neighborhood serving heavy, old country style French food.  It was below freezing outside so we were pleased to be seated in the corner of the small restaurant next to the large cast iron radiator.  Our waiter brought the menu over to our table which listed appetizers, deserts, and six entrees on a small chalkboard.  I chose a cheese fondue dish while my wife opted for the lamb shank with a rich brown sauce.  While our food was being prepared, we enjoyed an appetizer of different pâtés, salamis, other cold cuts, and cornichon (small French pickles).  The cheese fondue came served in a large cast iron bowl with a gel fire placed underneath and a pile of sliced French bread.  Each time I dipped a piece of the crusty baguette in the fondue I had to raise my fork above my head and turn it a dozen times before the string of cheese would snap.  Cheese paradise!  My wife was gracious enough to share her savory lamb and the carrot and potato accompaniments.  We also cleared out palates with a Chinon red wine from the Loire region.  Dessert was out of the question, we were stuffed.

The following evening, we celebrated the birthday of one of our friends.  They had invited several other couples to their apartment to celebrate together.  To get to their apartment from the street, we passed through massive wooden doors that gave you the impression of entering a castle.  They lived in a building built prior to the dawn of elevators.  We climbed up five flights of spiral stairs to arrive at their 4^th floor apartment.  Not sure why, but the French call the 1^st floor the zero floor.  Parisian apartments are quite compact, like something you would find in New York City, with no wasted space.  The fireplaces with their marble mantels and wooden plank floors gave the apartment character.  That night, they had invited over several other couples and had laid out a spread of more than a dozen different types of cold cuts.  As the hosts originated from the north of France, they provided a few of the regional specialties including andouillette, which is a pork tripe sausage.  They also shared pâté campagne, rillettes (finely shredded pork in a pate form), dried sausages, smoked ham, boudin noir (blood sausage), boudin blanc, and knack (pink pork sausage).   The conversation was lively and fun.  For desert, we had crepes topped with nutella. 

It was a great trip to Paris.  I enjoyed hanging out with her friends and sampling the delicious food.  It was Thanksgiving in the U.S. and although I missed being with my family, I was thankful to be able to be with my wife and spend some time with her friends.