Is Paris Really A Moveable Feast?
Ernest Hemingway has a famous quote: "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." He wrote this in a letter to a friend in 1950. He wrote a book "A Moveable Feast" in 1960, just before he killed himself in 1961. It concerned the years 1921 to 1926, when he was a young man in Paris.
I'm a food guy, but I don't think Hemingway was talking about food when he used the word feast in his quote or book. I think his quote about Paris being a "moveable feast", means that the experiences and inspirations he gained in Paris in his youth, stayed with him throughout his life. Paris for him was a constant source of delight and creative passion, even after he left the city.
I never traveled to Paris in my youth. I was 58 on my first of 4 trips. Nevertheless, Paris has been a constant source of delight and creative passion for me. My first 2 trips in 2007 and 2009, fixed in my mind the idea of what Paris embodies. My trips in 2015 and in the spring this past year were to a different Paris. Time changes everything.
People are fighting battles you know nothing about. In this age of political intolerance and attempts to divide us, we lose sight of what is really important in life. Change is going to come but you don't have to lose your humanity to face it.
In my first two trips, I found a city focused on culture, art, social issues, urban development, sports and cuisine. Being a food person, I focused on the cuisine and art. They sort of go hand in hand. When we travel, Sally, my wife, takes care of planning places we need to see, the sights. I plan where we will stay and where we will eat and drink as we go see the stuff she has lined up. Paris has got to be one of the ultimate people watching cities in the world. They even devised an institution for people watching, the sidewalk cafe.
When we travel, we like to stay in an apartment or house in a neighborhood. We think you get more of an understanding of the people and the culture of the place that way. It is usually for about 2 weeks, so the local merchants and your neighbors get to know you and you get to know them.
These places also have a kitchen and I'm a cook. It would be a crime to not be able to work with the produce, meats, seafood and dairy products in the local markets and shops. That's important to my understanding of a place. Sally is willing to eat what I cook. In Paris, I always manage to procure pastries and chocolates for dessert because we are in Paris. It has some of the best Patisserie in the world. We have taken advantage of that.
The key to travel is the need to slow down, so you can appreciate everything. There is never going to be enough time in 2 or 3 weeks to see everything and do everything. You need to select a few of the things you would most like to see. Save the rest for another trip. For me it is the same with restaurants, food shops and markets. The joy of Paris is using all your senses, just like the French do.
Paris is very much a walking city. Sally walks. I saunter. There is so much to see but I need to take my time. The architecture is awe inspiring. From the observation deck on the 56th floor of the Tour Montparnasse, you can see all the sights you will never have time to visit in just 2 to 3 weeks, the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame... Well you get the idea.
The shop windows tempt you with all sorts of delights, the Roquefort at Fromagerie Laurent Dubois, the veal at Gardil's Butcher Shop, the fashions at the Chanel store at 31 Rue Cambon, the fresh seafood at Maubert Maree, the kitchen tools in the windows at E. Dehillerin. The Vanves Flea Market and the Marche Monge hold unbelievable treasures. Original art is inspiring, Xavier Veilhan's bright red Le Rhinoceros at the Centre Pompidou, The Thinker in the garden at Musée Rodin, Picasso's Paul en Arlequin at the Musée Picasso-Paris, the original Vincent van Gogh Nuit Étoilée sur le Rhône at the Musée d'Orsay.
Of course, there are the unique sights only available in Paris, Notre Dame at night from the Pont de Sully, the rather small la toilette at Le Rubis, the creepy elegance of the tomb of Abelard and Heloise at Pere Lachaise Cemetery...
Then there are the smells of Paris, the perfume scents on the street outside Le Labo, the vanilla-chocolate scent of the chocolate cosmos flowers in the Luxembourg Gardens, the roasted aroma of espresso and the clinging burn smell of cigarette smoke outside of La Brasserie de l'Isle Saint Louis, the yeasty smell of the sourdough loaves at Poilâne at 8 Rue du Cherche Midi, the sometimes unpleasant smells in the Cardinal Lemoine Metro station, the earthy clean crisp fragrance of a walk in the rain on the elevated La Coulée Verte, the heady bouquet as you put your nose in a glass of Domaine La Monardiere Vacqueyras at Juveniles Bistrot A Vins, the sweet aroma of the La Mara des Bois strawberries and the anise fragrance of fresh fennel at the Marche Maubert. the old book smell at Shakespeare and Company, the funky aroma of the Ferme de la Tremblaye Camembert and other cheeses at Androuet Verneuil. Paris is loaded with all kinds of smells.
Aromas of food lead right into the sense of taste, the flakey buttery flavor of the Pain au Chocolat with 2 pieces of Valrhona chocolate at Boulangerie St. Louis, the sweet, sour, bitter notes of the Tarte Paradis at Pierre Herme. There is also the earthy flavors of the Cote d'Agneau at Chez Denise, the nutty brown butter and lemon notes of Sole Meuniere at Chez George, the pungent lushness of the Pont-Eveque cheese from the old man at Fromager B. Lafranc, the tender sweetness of the Cote du Boeuf at Severo with the frites cooked in duck fat, the savory minerality of the Domaine Auguste Clape Cornas at Willi's Wine Bar, the lush richness of the Toast de Foie Gras de Canard at Le Comptoir, the salty ocean flavor of the Fines de Claires at Huitrerie Regis, the crisp and tender flavor of the Duck Confit at Polidor, the warm versus cold crunchiness of the Profiteroles at Cafe Constant where they provide a pitcher of additional warm dark chocolate sauce, the garlicky butter richness of the Escargot at La Rotisserie d'Argent, the spicy succulence of the Filet de Boeuf au Poivre with the Sarawak Peppercorn sauce at Bistrot Paul Bert. Of course there is simple taste of a croissant and a cafe creme early in the morning outside at Le Saint Regis, watching people walking by... I could go on for hours but this is making me hungry.
Then there are the things you hear, the street buskers on the bridge to Notre Dame, cafe chatter at Le Nemrod, the announcements in and on the Metro between the Saint Michel and Saint Placide stations, scooters buzzing and beeping on the Boulevard Saint-Germain, bicycle bells ringing on the Rue de Rennes, tour guide voices at the Louvre, traffic noise on the Champs-Élysées, the bells of Église Saint-Louis-en-l'Île clanging in the chill of early morning, the alternating low-high pitch of police sirens outside the open window of the apartment on the Rue Regis, the tinkling of the water in the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice, market vendors shouting at the Marche Raspail on Tuesday morning, the gentle lapping of the Seine as it flows by the green boxes of the Bouquinistes. There is the loud drunken refrain of a fan of Rick James' Super Freak at 2 am in the apartment next door to you that is also in the building next door so you can't go bang on his door. There is dining outside at the tiny bistro Lescure, listening to the French conversation of two beautiful local young ladies and one of their cell phones goes off with the very American Barry White song Can't Get Enough of Your Love Babe as the ringtone. There are a lot of distinctive Parisian sounds.
Then there are the tactile things, the things we actually feel, the uneven texture of the cobblestones on the Rue Mouffetard, the wetness of the water in the grand bassin in the Luxembourg Garden as you launch your toy sailboat, the feel of the fresh produce at the Marche d'Aligre, the feel of the pages of old books at the bouquinistes along the Seine across from Notre Dame, the feel of the cork as a wine is presented to you at Allard, the coldness of the metal rail as you descend into the Place Monge Metro station, the cool smooth feeling of the bronze The Burghers of Calais in the Musee Rodin gardens, the sense of awe you feel looking at Monet's Water Lilies at the Musee l'Orangerie, the "I could do that" feeling you get looking at Sonia Delaunay's Avec Moi Meme 1970.
On my last trip things had changed, people die, chefs retire, businesses close for a number of reasons, buildings get remodeled or replaced, food and fashion trends come in and go out. Life goes on. It's a part of that "you can never go home" thing. Change is a part of life. Some people can't accept change. Life doesn't care. Change is going to happen whether you accept it or not.
The way Paris handles the changes that come with the passage of time was best exemplified in the closing of the 2024 Summer Olympics, when Yseult took the stage at Stade de France and sang "My Way".
"I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way
Oh, no, oh, no, not me
I did it my way "
Paris has always been unique. That uniqueness has attracted artist, writers, firebrands, musicians and members of all the "Lost Generations". Paris is a very personal city, so full of treasures everyone finds something they love. It is hard to determine which was Paris' Golden Age. Was it the Belle Epoch, the Roaring Twenties, the Renaissance? There have been so many.
Throughout it all, Paris has always done it her way. The city that has been at the forefront of fashion, food, art, urbanism and cultural influence has always done it in her unique way. That is a good thing.
Just like Cole Porter, I Love Paris. Paris was a part of the many experiences that have shaped me into the cook and person I am today. It is not the Paris of today that did that, but more the Paris of my first 2 trips. Those trips provide me with the memories I cherish. These memories are a feast that I move around with me. Hemingway was right, "Paris is a moveable feast".
