“Repos” - Rest
Basic Cuisine, the first part of the triad that is the Diplome de Cuisine, is over. If I hadn’t passed, you almost certainly would have heard by now, probably in a wine-fueled crashout in newsletter form. Fortunately for all of us, that was not the case. I passed, making the Royale Daurade Farci (which is two filets of seabream sandwiching a “force meat” [I know, I know] of filet trimmings and cream, then cooked in a steam oven) as well as 100mL of mayonnaise by hand, in just under two and a half hours. I felt cool, calm, collected, and comfortable throughout it. I think that’s a good sign of things to come.
To celebrate, Katy and I went to a hot spot in the 9th called Le Bon Georges. It’s been there for a while, but recently has just exploded thanks in some small part to social media but also a nod from both Michelin and Gault & Millau. It’s a bistro, with bistro fare, which many may say is overpriced and overwrought for what it is. Maybe. But I haven’t had a meal as good as this one at any other bistro in Paris. None other where, when I’ve taken that first bite, have said, “damn, that’s good.”
There’s no fancy tasting menu here, which is all the better. Instead, you get a chalkboard menu that changes every day—at least a little. And what’s on the chalkboard is what they’ve got. A table behind us didn’t seem to understand this and kept asking for the “rest of the menu.”
The wine list is a book. That’s not an exaggeration. It’s a dense, thick, heavy, hardback book of wines divided by region. Katy usually prefers bubbles, or at least something light. I’ve got a pretty wide appreciation for a lot of styles, and for a big bistro dinner, I knew we needed something red. We settled on the Loire Valley, and while I was starting to sift through the catalogue, I was saved by a sommelier (which is a word derived from “pack mule,” I recently learned from a great book called Cork Dork). She asked which grape I prefer (Cabernet Franc, at least for this dinner) and recommended a couple of bottles. We chose one, she went to get it, came back announcing they didn’t have it, and offered instead the first one she had recommended. Sold.
Katy started with the tarte tatin d’oignon. I opted for a vol-au-vent, which is a puff pastry “pocket” filled with some kind of savory filling. On our first visit to Paris, I ordered a vol-au-vent containing a chicken thigh and the most morel mushrooms I have ever seen on a plate. This one was loaded with mushrooms—not morels—and escargot. Yes, that’s snails, and yes, they’re delicious. They taste like mussels, or cockles.
Next, Katy chose the monkfish in a sauce beurre blanc. To my tastebuds, there’s not a better sauce to go with a white-fleshed fish. That rang true here, too. In fact, I was the one sopping up the rest of her sauce with bread after she stopped eating to save room for dessert. Meanwhile, I ordered duck breast with sauce caramel. Sauce caramel isn’t sweet—I know it sounds like a dessert. While there’s a touch of sugar in it (you need it to create the caramelization), it’s closer to a soy sauce glaze than anything else. The duck was a perfect medium rare with that lovely rendered layer of fat, crisped and gleaning.
Finally, on the edge of ate-too-much, we ordered dessert. I love a millfeuille. It’s made of layers of crackery, flaky crust with creme anglaise and creme chantilly, as well as pears and creme de rhum in this case. Really good, but Katy’s dessert stole the show. A pistachio entremet, made with any number of pistachio components, including a filling of pistachio butter.
I’ve had the last week and a half off from Le Cordon Bleu. Call it a vacation of sorts. The freedom to be in Paris with little in the way of responsibilities has been nice, but I reached a breaking point. I didn’t know what to do—with myself or otherwise. Here’s a small sketch of the things I did to stay busy.
Musée Carnavalet tells the history of Paris through its exhibits. It ranges from prehistoric (the remains of an ancient hand-carved canoe) well through the French Revolution. It’s free and remarkable.
Bibliothèque nationale de France is exactly what it sounds like: a big, beautiful library. It often shows up in those “world’s most beautiful libraries” posts on Instagram. Having seen it, I agree. You can’t go in to peruse or study without being a member of the library, but you can go in and have a look around.
The Parc des Buttes-Chaumont is an incredible spot on the edge of the city, founded in part by Napoleon III (who is not Napoleon I, the one you’ve all heard of) in 1867. It reminds you of a giant bonsai garden. Katy and Auggie joined me on this excursion. We rented bikes and cycled through Paris.
The Musée de l'Orangerie is home to many of Monet’s Les Nympheas (otherwise and more famously referred to as the water lilies). Katy and I had a Monday morning date here. Many more of the lilies can be seen at the Marmottan Monet, but these are his massive wall-sized paintings. They’re full of genius and inspired the planning for another trip this summer to Monet’s gardens in Giverny. There’s a ton more to this museum, including some Matisse, Picasso, Renoir, and other master works.
Le Petit Palais is another free art museum with work ranging from sculpture to those massive classical paintings that take up two stories to Biblical art from around the world and loads more. “Petit” palais? You’re not kidding anyone.
The Musée d’Art Moderne offers a healthy dose of modernism, dadaism, and surrealism. It ranges nicely from impressionist era, to post-impressionism, to the different styles that came after—even blending well into the types of work that inspires people to say “you call this art? I could do that.” (Maybe you could. And in that case, why don’t you?) I filled up here on some old favorites, and came away with a few new ones as well: Bernard Buffet, Pierre Bonnard, Raoul Dufy, and Marcel Gromaire. I learned while there that the Musée d’Art Moderne exists almost solely because of one benefactor: a very wealthy dentist named Maurice Girardin. When he died, he bequeathed nearly his entire collection of over 300 paintings to the organization that would go on to become the museum.
Finally, I sat outside Eglise Saint Sulpice, where we sat with Harrison on our first day in Paris in 2022, for a full morning. I told Katy recently I haven’t felt like a very good dad to him. I haven’t missed him as actively as I normally do. I know why—I’m finding fulfillment in life. That doesn’t make me a bad dad. And as Auggie gets older, he requires more of my time. But I thought I owed Wubs something. While I sat on the bench where he chowed down on his very first croissant, I sketched the church and the fountain in the little drawing kit Katy got me. It’s not a good sketch, but it’s a moment in time where I remember my first boy.
With all that done, Katy, Auggie and I have taken a trip south to the Rhone region. I’m excited to be outside of Paris. Isn’t that mad? We’re here for a week before classes start back up next week. You can probably expect me to break my cadence and send another newsletter at the beginning of next week. It’ll include adventures in Lyon, Beaune, and Dijon—including a little recap of our first two-star Michelin dining experience.