Paris Blogging: Mercredi

Drizzly day tramping around Montmartre, and the drizzle only adds to the effect. Were headed towards Les Deux Moulins for a Celluloid Pantry photo shoot (you’ll just have to wait until next Tuesday to see what the movie is), but, as we still needed some lunch, postponed that. I might as well just come out and say that I sometimes struggle with the concept of lunch in Paris. In a French restaurant, you go from haute cuisine to “Croque Monsiuer sans jambon” (and get a “wtf?” look from the server) with little in between. Not being meat-eaters, 90% of bistrot food is off limits. So, Italian is always a good choice. Pizza Napoletana two days in a row? Well, like the Ramones, I can eat pizza every day. Especially when it’s good, like at La Rughetta:

Always packed with the young crowd and celebrities from the neighborhood, this lively Montmartre trattoria serves very good pizza and pasta that are redolent of Rome; so what if the personnel is not always nice and the decor is minimal? the terrace is really cool in the summer.

I had noticed this place on previous trips to Rue Lepic, and yes, it’s always packed. And, for the record, the Italian woman looking after us was nice.

So, I told NAM last night that the Manufacture des Gobelins was where gobelins, or gargoyles were made. I was only partially correct, which is to say completely wrong, it was a tapestry and furniture factory for the royals. But Gobelin really does mean goblin in French, honest! Right around the corner from the manufacture is a crazy, way old-school Sud Ouest restaurant called Auberge Etchegorry. There we dined with the inimitable SP, a Sud-ener himself. SP strikes up lively, long conversations with waiters and such everywhere we go. He somehow finds long-lost chums or people who know his aunt, or something along those lines. We had some wonderful Jurancon, Madiran, and good Basque food to along with it. We took it easy on SP and only went to one place afterwards (in every arrondissemnt, there is at least one bar where he’s greeted by name–he thinks this is an exaggeration, but I don’t). So we topped the night off at Carr’s, an Irish pub which happens to be right across the street from our Hotel. What a coincidence!

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