Wandering through the Weekend

You may not believe this, but one can get tired of croissants.  Not that I have yet, but it's possible, I understand.  And so ex-pat Americans are always in search of the perfect bagel. You can find bagels in Paris and some of them are reputed to be not bad, but the search continues.

On Saturday night I went to a book signing for Marc Grossman's new cookbook "Bagels*like in New York" at the charming little food-specialized bookstore La Cocotte on rue Paul Bert.

Marc is a New Yorker who runs Bob's Juice Bar (why Bob? I guess Marc sounds too French) and the Kitchen in Paris, both foodie favorites.  Bagels is his third American cookbook (in French) after Smoothies and Muffins.  You get the idea.  Alisa's Cupcakes is part of this series for French publisher Marabout and she'll get her book signing date soon.

Unfortunately Marc says that making good bagels in enough quantity to sell profitably is too difficult a project and he won't be offering them at his shops.  The search continues.  What, you thought I was going to bake them myself?

Gene had come down with a cold so I took the Métro over to meet Alisa, her boyfriend Jeff, and her two adorable girls at La Cocotte and for a drink after at Pure Café.  I'm not a fan of children as a rule, but these two are worth hanging out with. When we got to the café I realized it was the one from the movie Before Sunset, with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, a gorgeous tour of Paris in the guise of a love story. 

On the way over to La Cocotte I came across one of the ubiquitous Métro musical offerings, which include American hippie guitarists, Scots bagpipers (oh gawd!) and others.  This little orchestra was worth listening to though.

Suitably uplifted I went on and found continung uplift at the other end of the trip.  The end of the day sun had turned these buildings into pure gold.

Sunday morning was time for the market once again and we did our usual rounds.  We've now identified our favorite vendors: the pretty Italian woman who recommends different pastas each time, the woman who takes the time to explain the different types of apples, pear, tomatoes, etc. to clueless Americans, the fishmonger with the longest line and freshest fish, and the stand with the incredible array of mushrooms.  Winter vegetables are all over; I'll have to find a recipe for pumpkin soup.

It was a glorious fall day and the crowds in the Marais were taking full advantage of it.  The streets were closed off to cars and the Place des Vosges lawns were covered with basking adults and running children.

 

I took a bus across the river to say goodbye to some friends leaving town and couldn't resist taking pictures out the window.  I have a feeling these blue skies won't be with us for very much longer.

 

And walking home I found myself kicking through piles of leaves.  The season has definitely changed.