Croissants, crepes, and cheese

 

I confess we were a little worried about finding food in France to please our grandson, Leo. But then he put us at ease: "Just feed me croissants, pastries and fries, and I will be happy," he told us. Luckily strawberries were in season, so he got some of those with his daily croissant and pain au chocolat for breakfast.

The other craving he had, and he wrote to his mum to get the name right, was for his favorite sauce: Béarnaise. We were puzzled all week as to why those places we found ourselves in didn't offer anything with Béarnaise. But he didn't complain.

Over the week, he surprised us with his willingness to try things even if only to turn up his nose. Our first evening, we were so tired from the chaotic time getting from the plane to the apartment, we fell out onto our street and sat in the first cafe we found. Their offering that evening was lasagne, and Leo and I decided to try that. Don't order Italian in France, was our conclusion. It came with salad, which Leo doesn't eat. Then we walked a few paces further and found him his first pastry--a so-so eclair. Things did get better from there!

Despite jet lag, Pastry Man a.k.a. Scott managed to stagger downstairs for our breakfast croissants, and Leo promised to accompany him the next day as the Croissant Kid. This was our first full day, and I had planned that we take the Toot Bus (hop-on hop-off) that would give Leo an overall look at the main attractions: Notre Dame, Musee d'Orsay, Place de la Concorde, Eiffel Tower...well you get the picture. Not only was the website out of date as to the exact spot for our closest stop (rue St. Jacques) but when we did find it along the Quai des Augustines, the traffic was at a standstill. A representative of the bus company told us this was not a good day to do the tour because President Macron was entertaining the Italian premier at the Louvre, and all the roads going anywhere near the museum were closed for who knows how long. (That was two days in a row we were thwarted trying to get somewhere!) 

"It's almost lunchtime," I said to a disappointed but still non-complaining Leo, "what would you like for lunch." "Crêpes," was the immediate response. And there were two crêperies a block away on rue St. Andre des Arts! Leo ordered two -- one with maple syrup and the other butter and sugar; the latter he gave up with after half. "It's just too sweet, Granny," he apologized.

That evening, we made sure he had some protein (but still no vegetables, unless you count potatoes), and we tried something different in the rue Mouffetard two blocks from our apartment. Saveurs de Savoie specialized in raclette and fondu. Leo plumped for shared fondus -- beef and cheese--served with parslied potatoes and lots of baguette. It was a big hit and with a couple of Oranginas to wash it down, he ate more than I did.

On Thursday, we had timed entry to the Chateau de Versailles, so we RER'd over and after having difficulty walking on the huge cobblestoned courtyard to the Timed Entry building, I was grateful that my cane and my ask for a wheelchair allowed us to skip the 50-something-person line. Later, we had an invitation to dinner with old friends of mine from my Egypt childhood, who have an apartment on ave de Paris, two kms from the chateau, and I was a little worried that Leo would be bored listening to half-French, half-English chat about mutual friends from summer holidays I spent with the family during my teen years. Not a bit of it. "I am finding it all very interesting, Granny," he protested!

 When Christine produced the delicate delicacy of early French summer, poached white asparagus with homemade mayonnaise, Leo was skeptical. But I gave him a morsel and he tried it. The review was not good! Next our host brought out a casserole of pork simmered in a cilantro-curry sauce, which I was afraid would not be acceptable to our spice-averse lad, but by just giving him the meat without the sauce, Leo tucked in--and had another piece. Then came the cheese platter--chevre, a blue brebis (sheep's milk), and a camembert. Without any shyness at all, he proceeded to rate them from one to 10, just like his restaurant-reviewer mother does. The brebis got "only a 4, as it is too strong," he pronounced. Our hosts were delighted by him.

I was determined he should have a Croque Monsieur during his time, but (like the Milles Feuilles pastry that were sadly lacking everywhere and for which I had a craving) many of the cafes just weren't serving it or its eggy partner Croque Madame anymore. You used to be able to get it anywhere. This is usually a fancy grilled ham sandwich with a browned cheese sauce on top, but the only facsimile we managed to find was open-faced on a long thin piece of brown bread at a cafe down a side street from the Opera. It was just okay for me, but Leo liked it.

For our final meal I was determined to find this adventurous young man his Béarnaise sauce, so I Googled around and found Chez Paul over the river near the Bastille. The first thing on the menu was: Grilled beef rumsteak, bearnaise sauce, fried potatoes. Hooray! Not only did he eat the entire slab of quite rare steak, but he asked if he could have Profiteroles for dessert. Together with an Ile Flottante in creme anglais shared between the three of us, we proclaimed this the best meal of the trip! 

I haven't asked him what rating he gave la bonne cuisine française overall yet. But I am betting I know what the Croissant Kid would say was his favorite food.