Culinary conversations on a terrace
The word restaurant was first used in Paris by an eighteenth century soup vender who went by the name of Monsieur Boulanger. Two hundred and forty two years later, I find my self basking on the terrace of a modern day ‘Boulangian’ equivalent in the heart of Paris. Every time my French girlfriend and I treat ourselves to a meal at one of Paris’s many dainty and modestly set restaurants, I am continuously astounded by the experience.
Despite the drowning bustle of the city, Paris’s urban soundtrack seems to tranquilize my senses, provoking an unconscious desire not to eat; but to savor and cherish. Gone are the neon lights and the need to book a table which will soon be repossessed by the restaurant staff for the upcoming reservation, and in comes an evening of both culinary and intellectual gourmandise.
This night, I am in the tenth arrondissement alongside the Canal St Martin. The area is a throw back to a long gone age of raw and brutish artistic bohemia. Just as an inner city church seems to block out the outside world and invite a more spiritual atmosphere, the Parisian restaurant puts civilization to one side and welcomes in nature. There is nothing pretentious about eating in France, regardless of our chiseled stereotyped images of the French self-pride for their cuisine. The outside facade is plain but elegantly decorated; the chairs and tables are basic and uncomplicated; yet the entire ambience one of sophistication.
Le Canal St Martin
My girlfriend and I managed to talk for over half an hour of the tastes and what effects these tastes could have on one’s psychological state. Never in a million years would I dream of such conversations back in Britain. It is not so much that British cuisine doesn’t merit such conversation; rather the omnipresent spirit of something I can’t quite put my finger on adds a folkloric essence to the occasion in Paris.
The food was very good, but there was also something else floating in the air. The way people talk to each other over a meal and the general pace to culinary proceedings seemed different to the previous outings I have had elsewhere.
It is strange that while dining in Paris, I never go home feeling that I have eaten. Equally, I no longer feel the hunger from before the meal. Perhaps the curiosity and energy spent indulging in a range of things other than the food played a large part in the enjoyment of the meal. On the other hand, perhaps I am being a tad over romantic and quite frankly just savored a good plate of food.
Infognito
Screen Trek
QUOTE ME NO QUOTES!
and what does your girlfriend prefer?
and which restaurant was it, the green, yellow or pink one in the photo, if that is what they are?
I guess what I am suggesting is, your inclusion of photos is great, and would be even better if you had shots of the places you actually visit and refer to the photo detail, is that possible?
Your experiences are very enjoyable to read all the same!
However, I am an atmosphere person, the description of sounds, manners, scents spark one's imagination.
cheers and beers
fog