Hit up the Louvre for five hours when it was totally a balmy 103 degrees or so. As much as I would've loved to walk around the city, leaving a trail of sweat so I don't lose my way... no.
My favorite exhibits were the ones in air conditioned halls. We visited a couple of women who know how to command a room. Need to get some tips from Lisa and Venus for the next time I give a presentation.
My favorite exhibits were the ones in air conditioned halls. We visited a couple of women who know how to command a room. Need to get some tips from Lisa and Venus for the next time I give a presentation.
I loved the sarcophagus room and all the sheets of hieroglyphics, the intricately haunting French sculptures, the courtyard where a man was sketching the likeness of a horse.
And then I, of course, I loved the paintings of food. Fresh figs would be really awesome right now.
In case you were wondering, the museum restaurant really wasn't that bad for an establishment where people are pretty much forced to spend their money. The salmon was well cooked, the chicken skin was crips, and I am always game for a bowl of green beans.
In case you were wondering, the museum restaurant really wasn't that bad for an establishment where people are pretty much forced to spend their money. The salmon was well cooked, the chicken skin was crips, and I am always game for a bowl of green beans.
For dinner, I was determined to reignite an appreciation for French food after the good but unspectacular lunch and failed dinner that left me unimpressed with it all.
But Le Garde Robe (at the suggestion of David Lebovitz) was not yet open for dinner (this European lifestyle...)
So, as we started to make our way back to the hotel, we ended up at La Cooperative.
Things were looking up with the foie gras with toast and fig jam and confit de canard. The disks of foie gras spread like soft butter, and with a shmear of jam, mmm, I think this would have to be my last meal. I even tricked my brother into trying a bite... now he no longer trusts me. The duck confit... kind of tough. I let my him finish that.
The tartare was surprisingly refreshing and tender, made better by the large shavings of parmesan. I just didn't have enough toast for all the freaky meats.
Because we also got six adorable escargots. Piping hot in their shell with butter and pesto that demanded to be soaked up with bread, too.
So better than La Poutre, but I still wasn't going back Stateside to rave about Parisian food.
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