After sleeping for 11 hours, I geared up and wandered across the Seine to the Jardin du Luxembourg, where my Dad told me that he saw many Parisians jogging. I got completely lost on the way there, but had a lovely walk, and after a good run I wandered back along a different route, taking in the sights and sounds of the city on my way back. I landed back in the ‘hood just in time to wander through the market, catching a whiff of some delectible roast chicken as I walked through. I was tempted to buy some scallops, as they were gorgeous, sitting in their shells, but I passed, and headed home for a shower.
Carlos had invited me to join him and some friends at the racetrack that afternoon. As we attempted to coordinate, I realized just how much I take my cell phone for granted. Dad and Joan had given me a calling card, so I was able to use a payphone to call Carlos’ cell phone, but of course he couldn’t call me back. He was off having brunch, so I wandered around some more, stopping for a falafel sandwich along the way, and checked in with him every so often to check on his progress. Despite the telecom difficulties, we finally were able to meet up at the Hippodrome at the Bois de Boulogne. I opted out of the gambling, but enjoyed watching Carlos and his friends lose all their money (probably about 10 euros combined).
After the races, I returned back to the apartment to warm up and got ready for dinner. I decided to take a chance and headed to L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon. Arriving at 9:30 on a Sunday night, I was dismayed to hear that I’d have to wait for over an hour for a seat. Apparently, in Paris they eat as late as we do in New York, even on school nights. After a short walk and a half a glass of wine in the adjoining hotel lobby, the hostess called me in — I don’t even think it was 1/2 hour. I sat at the sleek bar and examined the menu. I decided to stick to the tasting portions, so I’d be able to try more dishes without getting too full. I began with the foie gras (take that, Gothamist commenters!), and got a glass of sauternes to accompany it. My next course was a delicate lobster ravioli with black truffle butter atop green cabbage. I had to sop up every drop of the sauce with my bread — yum. At that point, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go for another tasting course, so I chose conservatively, and headed straight for dessert, a pair of pots au creme — one chocolate and one vanilla — accompanied with a glass of moscato. The entire restaurant is bar seating, which is nice — I ended up chatting with the couple to my right in a mix of French and English about their dining adventures in New York — Daniel, Jean Georges. Clearly I should hang out with these people the next time they come to town. The bartenders/waiters were very friendly as well, and for whatever reason, they not only comped my moscato, but gave me another glass on the house. I took a cab home and, pleasantly full, slept quite well.
As my mom pointed out in an email, I must be very busy this week since I haven’t updated the blog. She’s right — I’ve been busy and tired, so I apologize for the slow posting.
