Paris may well be a movable, moveable feast, but the shops of the rue Montorgueil are fixed. Pâtisseries, bars, cafés, sandwich stands, fruit & vegetable stalls, butcher shops, cheesemongers, fishmongers, charcuteries, a florist, a news vendor, they're all on our doorstep.
Bread is essential. An ordinary croissant, pulled apart and dunked into a frothy grand crème while standing at the zinc-topped counter of a corner café tastes astonishingly wonderful. A tartine, French bread slathered with unsalted butter, is even better. The best is a long, thin loaf called a flûte, very Parisian, with Echiré butter (from a remote area of western France where the cows feed on unique local grass). The best of the flûtes is called Gana, invented by Bertrand Ganachaud over 40 years ago.
The Gana difference is a pre-fermentation process that produces a starter known as poolish, which gives the bread a nutty taste. The dough is formed by hand and baked in a wood-fired oven under licenses the Ganachaud family has granted to some 200 bakers across France. Cost of a half-pound loaf? Buck fifty.
Sounds like heaven! The French make something so simple into a artform.
Can't we all remember the glorious tastes that lie just at our doorsteps, as you say, on almost any Parisian backstreet? I guess that's why we go there.
For those of us left back in Seattle (at the moment...) to get close to the wonderful Parisian excursion described by Ron, try a walk through Pike Place market and a glorious lunch of frommage, Pate'Albigeois and a fine pichet of Rhone at the darling little French cafe "Le Pichet" on 1st & Virginia. You can also listen to some great local "free" music at 2:30 every Sunday! "La vie est chere, la musique est libre!"
How the fuck do you know all this?!!! I can't wait to have my own ;-)
I'm going to put all of your Cornichon observations into one compilation and, after editing, and settling on a catchy title, sell it and make a million. Keep'm coming.