Louis Daguerre was a famous Parisian artist, a painter, scene designer, and photographer who, in 1839, went public with his new invention: the daguerreotype. The street named for him was reserved for pedestrians by 1910, with a long, canvas covered market most days. Today, many fresh fruits and vegetables, cheeses, and meats can be bought on the street and each individual shop has its own awning.
After a nice nap, shower, fluffy towel wipe down, and a quick hair style with a blow dryer (!), I was ready for an adventure. I didn't know about the chic and hopping Rue Daguerre, but two blocks away I stood at a stoplight, and looked at a garishly-lit corner restaurant called Cafe Daguerre. I walked across the street to check out the menu and the people inside. At 7:00 p.m., there were still a few places to sit, but I decided to explore some more.
As I walked down the street, restaurants on my right caught my eye.
I walked about 4 blocks down, then returned back toward the beginning of the street and looked at the bucherie, fromagerie, patisserie, boulangerie, chocolatier on the left and thought, hmm, great neighborhood street.
I found a street called Danville Avenue and thought that might be a fun address for a few months. Later I would look up the address on a real estate website and learn it was tres cher, too expensive for me. The Haussman-style buildings were gorgeous and I yearned to knock on an intricately carved wooden door and have a friend buzz me inside.
As the light began to dim, and my stomach gurgled for food, I returned to what I thought was the nicest restaurant on the street. It had tables outside with a few openings, and an interesting interior. Without a reservation, I felt I wouldn't have a seat. But, I was wearing my second-nicest dress and walking like Miriam. Why not try my most polite French and see what happened?
Inside or outside? the maitre d' asked, nodding her approval of me. When I hesitated, she led me to a tiny table for one with the table outside the bi-folded window and the chair inside. I could see everything and was ready to watch the Parisians (and tourists) enjoy their food.
What to order from this traditional restaurant? It was when I opened the menu for Maison Peret that I learned I had extremely good taste in restaurants. This brasserie had opened as a bistrot a vin in 1908, and began serving farm to table food shortly thereafter. In the same family for four generations, they proudly state they "serve no frozen food, no microwaved food, and only freshly prepared foods from local suppliers." I thought this was typical of French restaurants, but had learned earlier in the month that many Paris established restaurants were "cheating" and serving frozen foods. My friends Randy and Jack considered that to be food blasphemy. Still, I needed to decide what to eat and the roasted duck sounded divine. Did I dare?
I forgot to take a picture before I devoured my duck, but here's an idea. This very simple dinner of roasted small butter potatoes, spring greens salad and duck was perfectly cooked. The butter for the tiny dinner croissants was from Normandy, and the table pepper was some of the freshest I've had. I began my meal with a glass of chablis, noting that I'd never find something this perfect for a warm summer evening at home. California wines are great, but we don't make chablis like the French. I asked my server his recommendation for a wine with the duck, and he said it had to be a light red. He chose a 2020 Chinon
AOP from the Chateau de la Bonneliere. Like the DOC of Italy, the AOP Appellation d'Origine Protegee designation means the wines were made with the cultural knowhow of the specific region. This glass also had a green "AB" with a leaf next to the price, which means it's made in a sustainable winery. All this to say the wine was a great match for the duck, but an even better one for the buttery croissants. While I drank the chablis far too quickly, I savored the Chinon, having never tasted any red wine quite like it.
One of my favorite parts of a French meal is the pace of service. Attentive but not intrusive, I felt taken care of. Yes, it did take over half an hour for my duck to arrive, but I enjoyed people-watching and seeing the reflection of the light on the charcuterie window change as the sun set. I spent about an hour and a half at Maison Peret, didn't have coffee or dessert, and felt appreciated. Such a different experience than 40 years ago, when I spoke no French, didn't know the expected customary greeting whenever one walks into a store or restaurant, and was treated like a scumbag American tourist. After the frenetic nature of Rome and the quiet tranquility of La Romita, I welcomed the elegance of French manners. I'm becoming a snob.
There's still some sunset to chase tonight. Did Monet paint these clouds for me? Ah, now I'm pretentious, too.
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