48ish Hours in Paris

Our weekend in Paris was not what most people would plan. We didn't step foot in a museum. We only saw Notre Dame and Arc de Triomphe from afar. And this was probably the closest we got to the Eiffel Tower.

Instead, we wandered. We ate. We drank. We looked up at buildings and around marchés. 

It was perfect.   

Riding the Rails 

Ah, train travel, where the only worry about bringing a bottle of wine through security is making sure it's a screw top, so you can open it on board. We bought a feast for the journey from Sourced Market in the train station.

See how happy it made us. 

The ride itself was pretty cool too.

Hotel Joyce

Great hotel find on Chris' part — not to pricey, on a quiet street and with one of the friendliest staffs I've ever encountered.

The lobby lounge with free breakfast, sodas and snacks. 

Our room was tiny, but airy and cheerful. 

And the views were pretty great.

This contraption was the strangest hair dryer I've ever encountered. 

Croissant Chasers

One thing topped my Paris to-do list. Carbs. So we tried a bunch of them. And we were not disappointed.

One place ran out, so we had to settle for olive bread. Darn. 

Saturne

This was last-minute find—we just wanted a place with online reservations and good reviews for our first night since we know getting a table in Paris can be tough.

So imagine how nervous we were when we walked in at 8 p.m., and the place was almost empty. But we decided to stick to the plan, and I'm glad we did. By 8:30, the place was packed. And the "surprise" menu was perfect for a couple of non-French speakers. All we had to do was tell the waiter (whose English was excellent) our allergies, and he brought us food. So much food.

And really cool wines. They only serve "natural" wine. From what I can gather, that's organic grapes made into wine with really old methods and no sulfates or preservatives. One of these was an "orange wine," which is a white wine that's produced a bit like a red. I think it was from Slovenia.

Le Bon Marché

We wandered into one of the fancy department stores. 

The had a lot of ostrich displays.

La Grande Épicerie

But really, we were just there to check out the big, fancy supermarket next door. It was like a giant, French version of Central Market. I didn't take too many pictures. But here are a few. Even the pre-made cheese plates look amazing. There was olive oil packaged like giant bottles of cologne. We discovered that Marilyn Manson makes Absinthe. And we drank some amazing grapefruit juice. 

We were also proud to discover that Tex-Mex was the only regional American cuisine represented. Everything else fell under "USA."

Unfortunately, we can't say that Tex Mex was well represented in Paris based on our perusal of two grocery stores (note the Old El Paso, Newman's Own, and some random brand called Amigos) and the fact that we passed a random "Tex Mex" restaurant, confoundingly named "Indiana." This hurt our souls just a little bit. 

At least there was a Chipotle.

Au Passage Restaurant

Saturday night found us at a low-key tapas bar, where we dined far lighter than the night before. Still lots of yum. Clockwise from the big one: ceviche-style fish, radishes and chevre, fresh peas, panna cotta with honeycomb, fresh bread and truffled burrata. 

Experimental Cocktail Club

We don't normally go for chains, but we've made an exception for this trio of unique bars in New York, London, Paris. We can now say we've been to each one. Except for their underlying philosophy and general vibe, you wouldn't even really know they were part of a group. Each one has a different look and menu. 

Bastille Marche

This market makes every farmer's market I've ever been to look puny in comparison. We're talking entire butcher and cheese shops—refrigerated glass display cases and all—relocated to this plaza for the day. Plus gorgeous tomatoes and tiny perfect strawberries and kitchen supplies and clothes and falafel makers and wine vendors. It was crazy and crowded and full of smells and colors.

We made a loop around the entire place before choosing a snack. I'm not even sure what it was called, but it was like a Middle Eastern crepe—basically potato and cheese wrapped in filo dough and griddled. It was 1.50 Euros and one of the tastiest things we ate on the trip. 

Pro-tip: Avoid stands with microwaves.
Look for the guys cooking things up right there.
And always ask for one straight off the griddle. 

From there, we walked to Marché Monge in the Latin Quarter and then to the somewhat more touristy, but quite charming Rue Mouffetard (which Hemingway described in A Moveable Feast as a "wonderful, narrow crowded market street").

We popped into one of the creperies for a snack.
I don't remember which one, but I'm sure it's hard to go wrong.

pâtisserie Sadaharu AOKI

And finally, we found our way a few minutes over to pâtisserie Sadaharu AOKI, where traditional French macarons and chocolates are made with Japanese flavors like matcha, sesame and wasabi. This was our take-home treat, so I can't report on all the flavors yet, but pistachio and yuzu macarons were delightful.

Musée en Plein Air

"The whole city is like a museum." 

— Chris

The weather was gorgeous both days, so we just walked and looked around and walked until we had blisters (you haven't experienced a country until you've been to a pharmacy).

French lawn mower. It's a goat—in the park.

We did walk along the Seine, like everyone else.

We found a fantastic art and design book shop.
Note that the "Eat Me" book has a bite out of each page.

Okay lunch. Adorable jam.

Even in Paris, people embarrass themselves on Segway tours.

I love seeing how American movies get marketed oversees.
"The Other Woman" became "Triple Alliance." These posters were everywhere.

Just made us laugh.

You'll never feel back about your drinking in Paris.

And I love that this guy coordinated his man-purse with his girlfriend's dress.

Buvette

The second American-in-Paris spot we tried, Buvette is the French outpost of a NYC cafe. The food stars aligned just right on this one. Chris had been wanting to try it. We needed a light supper before the train. And it was super close to our hotel—not to mention adorable. We had a ratatouille tartine, a croque monsieur that swapped the ham for mushrooms, carrot salad, a fish rillette and, of course, wine.

Dirty Dick

About a block over from Buvette—and on my to-try list—was Dirty Dick, a relatively new Tiki Bar that felt like stepping into 1960 (even the blenders looked that old). We walked in just after they opened at 6 p.m., so we could catch one last cocktail before the train. The Hawaiian-shirted bartender switched the music to ukulele as soon as we arrived and whipped us up some fantastic rum drinks, which the menu rated for booziness from "teetotalism" to "fucked up." The non-alcoholic drink was appropriately named "betraying yourself."(We did no such thing.)