open-air market every Sunday. Um, did I say colorful?
Only the fish were grouchy, even the proximity of aromatic fresh herbs couldn't distract them from their imminent fate
|Knife and scissors sharpening and repair|
Outside the market, we walked down Rue Monge. It's a shopping street, for real people, hardly a tee-shirt in sight, the small shops were all open and welcoming.
And we were amused and delighted to see French people standing in line, at the butcher, the pastry shop, the baker....
At the bottom of Rue Monge, the street opens into a small square.
This is not a modern sculpture, he's the local balloon-seller.
And in the open space, a small accordion band had set up, a diva was warbling, and people had put their groceries down to dance. I would have expected a waltz or a two-step, but the requests were all for sambas or tangos,
which I guess explained why, in the course of more generalized roaming, we had noticed so many little neighborhood bars or bars-à-vin advertising "Argentine nights" or "leçons de tango". This couple had some savage moves. I've always thought the tango is as much stylized marching as dancing; seeing it done on cobblestones in daylight made me decide to hunt up DVDs of movies showing Apache dancers in boites. Plus ça change...
At this sale, you could furnish your apartment, redo your country place, bring your table service up to 24, and spiff up your wardrobe.
Oh, yes, and class up your boats....
And so, looking longingly at a gently used service for 36 and some dolls who needed a good home,
So -- the food. I started with sauteed girolles and snails with herbs and just a touch of garlic; Himself ordered wild frogs' legs sauteed with garlic and parsley, and if I hadn't practically thrown myself on his fork, we would not have had the charming picture to the left.
Moving on, I had sauteed pigeon (for a change), but very different from the refined dish of the night before; this was hearty, redolent of garlic and red wine. And he had a duck breast with nectarines, which came with (quelle surprise!) mashed potatoes.
Desserts were great: sorry, no pictures, too busy eating. He had a clafouti of cherries (pitted! take that, Julia Child), and I had a feuilletté of fresh raspberries and vanilla pastry cream.