Yesterday my friend Sam was in Paris–I’m quite envious of her 24-hours-ahead trip planning strategy!–so we met up for lunch. She was staying at a youth hostel on the Rue Mouffetard, where shockingly enough, I had never been. It’s adorable and charming (not the youth hostel, the street), and there are tons of hip little restaurants. While I was waiting for Sam outside the hostel, I happened to notice this storefront right across the street:
That’s right. It’s a restaurant selling nothing but tarts, pies, quiches and other things in crusts. I said to Sam, “I know it’s not that exciting to walk across the street to have lunch when you’re in Paris for three days, but I think we may have to try it.” So we did. It’s a tiny, tiny place, maybe ten tables at the most, depending on how big the parties are, with one woman working at peak lunchtime. The walls are covered in posters for concerts and theater; there’s a collection of quaint teacups mounted on one wall. And the food…well, a picture is worth a thousand words sometimes.
Citronnade gingembre. Whoever thought to put ginger in lemonade is a genius.
Only my second tarte tatin in Paris, but I think it will be pretty hard to beat, so I’m giving it the title of “Best Tarte Tatin in Paris.”
This is the exciting thing about Paris. Sometimes unassuming little restaurants have the best food, and just because they ARE unassuming doesn’t mean the food won’t be utterly fantastic. Like the time last summer when Hallie and I went to a nearly-deserted restaurant near Rue de Rennes and had the best quiche Lorraine and risotto of our lives. Go figure.
And here’s the pie song from the movie Waitress. I don’t know anybody who has seen this movie who can eat or make pie without thinking of this song.
Today, I am off to the Marché aux Puces (flea market) de Saint-Ouen with Lizzie. There will most likely be blogging about it. Yay. Hooray.