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Eat, walk, repeat

My apologies, guys. I didn’t mean to let a whole week go by before telling you more about my Paris trip. Settling back into home kept me busier than I’d planned.

But yes, now, where were we?

One day last week, I was exchanging e-mails with a friend who is headed to Paris for the first time this summer. In the midst of our back-and-forth about this bistro and that, he said something that sums up pretty much everything I want to tell you about my trip. “The only reason I travel,” he wrote, “is for an excuse to eat more than usual.” I like that. Not that I need an excuse, you know, but France is certainly a convincing one. It’s basically a cheese cellar the size of Texas. That’s why I love it so much. Or partly, anyway.

When I go to Paris, my activities fit under three general categories: eating, walking, and walking to the next place where I’ll find something to eat. I couldn’t tell you what the inside of Notre Dame looks like, but I do know how to get, on foot, from that butcher shop on rue Oberkampf - the one with the red exterior and the especially good chickens - to that boulangerie way down in the 15th where my host mother bought her cannelés. It’s a matter of priorities. When I was last in Paris, during the summer of 2004, I was supposed to be doing pilot research for a dissertation on French social security. I knew it was a doomed proposition when I noticed that my notepad was filled with addresses for bakeries and chocolate shops, not news clippings about health insurance reform or jottings from interviews. Paris has a way of getting your priorities straight.

Mom and I headed out on this trip without much in the way of goals, aside from spending some time together. But soon enough, a couple of priorities became clear, and one of them was a homely little fruit called a nefle.

We were introduced to them at the home of our expat friends Michael and Becky, artist and writer, respectively, and fine cooks both. A few days into our trip, they had us in for a lunch of fresh fava beans and sheep’s milk cheese, a rosy roast of beef, and, to finish, a bowl of fruit. It was in this last that I found the nefle, also called a loquat or Japanese medlar in English, níspero in Spanish, and nespola in Italian. To be honest, had it not been explicitly offered, I would never have chosen it. I’m the type who will actually mope - huff, puff, you name it - when I find a piece of blemished fruit in my grocery bag. When nefles are ripe, they are essentially one big blemish, bruised and browned and gnarly. Egg-shaped, orange-fleshed, and tasty, yes, but easy on the eyes, not really. To eat a nefle, you first peel back its thin, translucent skin, starting from the “butt” end of the fruit. Then you dig your thumbs into said end and, holding your hands over a plate or sink to catch errant drips of juice, you pry the flesh into halves. Inside are two smooth, shiny seeds, which you remove and discard. (They’re poisonous, incidentally, so no fooling around.) What remains is approximately four bites of flesh with the consistency of ripe summer melon and a perfumed, sweet-tart flavor that can, if you’re not careful, get the salivary glands so worked up that a rivulet of drool shoots down your chin. It’s smart to keep Kleenexes in your bag if you know there are nefles around.

From that lunch forth, we were never without a half-dozen of them at the ready. I found them at a couple of greengrocers along rue Rambuteau, near the apartment we rented from this company, and at La Grande Epicerie de Paris, the fancy-pants gourmet wing of Le Bon Marché department store. I even bought a bagful to bring home to Brandon. Customs be damned!, I thought cheerfully, tucking them into my carry-on. When they were taken away from me at the U.S. Department of Agriculture scanning station at O’Hare, I actually wept a little. As I said, it’s smart to keep Kleenexes in your bag if you know there are nefles around.

When we weren’t busy downing nefles, we were on the chocolate beat. In the course of a single afternoon, I had us buying bittersweet bars and orangettes at Patrick Roger and trotting down rue d’Assas to Jean-Charles Rochoux, where we came away with two noisette bars and a sachet of something called durango au gianduja. Samples of the latter were offered to us upon arrival, plucked from their bowl with tiny silver tongs by a thoroughly pleasant saleswoman and extended to us on a tiny silver platter. They looked like petite, hand-rolled truffles, but upon further inspection - and consumption, with exclamations and moans - they revealed themselves to be toasted almonds coated in a crackly caramel, enrobed in gianduja, and rolled in cocoa. At eight euros per sachet, they were not cheap, but in such situations, I’ve learned, you pony up with no quibbles. Our supply disappeared so fast that I didn’t even get to photograph them. You’ll have to take my word for it. We also visited my old coup de coeur chocolate shop, A la Petite Fabrique, where the chocolates are not quite so fancy but still plenty fine. I always snatch up a few of their 85% bars, which come wrapped in red foil, and their 72% bars with whole toasted almonds and hot pink wrapping. The saleswoman in there is certifiably loony - although she seems to love me and remembers me (and my mother, and my sister, and my ex-boyfriend) every time I come in, even after years away - so consider yourself warned.

When we weren’t chasing chocolate, we were hitting some of my other old favorites. On Thursday morning, we went to the outdoor market that runs up boulevard Richard Lenoir from Place de la Bastille. My old vegetable vendor was still there, staffed by the same aimable woman and ruddy-cheeked men. We bought French breakfast radishes, gariguette strawberries, and a melon and, from the cheese stand across the way, small slices of comté and bleu d’Auvergne and a small, wrinkly goat cheese called a crottin de Chavignol. It made a handsome spread on our coffee table and a fine lunch for two.

Nearly every day, we went to Au Levain du Marais, the place I once proudly - and wishfully - called my boulangerie. We ate yogurt and fruit in our little kitchenette most mornings, but it wasn’t long before we discovered that a chausson aux pommes - a flaky, butter-laminated pastry with a slip of applesauce tucked inside - makes a great after-breakfast dessert. We took to buying one on our way out for the day and sharing it on a bench in the Place des Vosges while the morning joggers trotted past, eyeing it covetously. Sometimes we’d pick up baguette sandwiches too, and stick them in our bags for lunch. Mom is a die-hard fan of the crudités sandwich, the one with hard-boiled egg, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise, although she also made quick work once of a variety with thyme-roasted chicken. I like the jambon-beurre-fromage, the classic combination of ham, butter, and cheese shown a few photographs up. I also won’t refuse the one with a few wedges of camembert and a big smear of butter. Au Levain du Marais does them just right, with a baguette that’s crisp but not too shattery and a thin layer of filling that stretches from end to end. They also do a lovely little quiche, about 4 inches in diameter, with a filling of spinach or ham. They’ll wrap it in paper for you and tuck it in a plastic bag, and with half a baguette, it makes a perfect lunch in the park. I know, because we ate them one day under a tree in the Jardin du Luxembourg, and it was so tasty that I didn’t even care when a policeman came along, blowing his whistle and yelling, to swat us off the grass.

We also, of course, made sure to get our fill of those frilly, precise sorts of pastries that Europe is so famous for. First there was Pierre Hermé, where we came away with my favorites: an Ispahan and a Plaisir Sucré - one of his signature creations, two pink macaron biscuits enclosing a pastry cream flavored with rose water and dotted with bits of litchi, with fresh raspberries around the rim - and a Plaisir Sucré, a multi-layered confection of milk chocolate mousse, hazelnut dacquoise, and hazelnut praline, the remains of which are documented in the first photograph of this post. Then there was Ladurée, with its gold leaf and cherubs painted on the ceiling, where we bought a small tarte Tatin and six of their famous macarons packed in the most precious little pastry box I’d ever seen. For the record, the coffee flavor is and always will be my favorite macaron. Brandon had coached me on the merits of the caramel au beurre salé - the salted butter caramel flavor - before I left, but I have to say, he’s wrong. (Sorry, honey.)

And when all that eating and walking made our feet sore, we plunked down for some café-sitting. My favorite afternoon spot is Café des Phares, on Place de la Bastille. I used to live near there, and I spent many an hour reading the newspaper - or pretending to, anyway - on its terrace. I’m a shameless people-watcher - a trait I got from my mom - and if you’re into that sort of thing, it’s the best spot in town. Mom and I spent a couple of hours there on our last evening, watching a handsome Italian couple nuzzle and cooling down with some Perrier and then a glass of Côtes du Rhône. Come evening, my favorite café is Au Petit Fer à Cheval, a tiny spot in the heart of the Marais, on rue Vieille du Temple. It has an old-timey horseshoe bar, Sancerre by the glass, and a terrace compact enough to make for great eavesdropping. (I’m terrible, people. You don’t want me sitting at the table next to yours.)

This is dragging on a bit, I know, but it wouldn’t be right for me to end this treatise without telling you about Bistrot Paul Bert, where we ate dinner twice, on the second and last nights of our trip. I had read about it in a Bon Appétit piece by Dorie Greenspan, and as you might expect with a recommendation like that, it did not disappoint. Its 32-euro prix-fixe menu runs from the simplest white asparagus with vinaigrette to marinated squid with preserved lemons, scallops served in their shells with spiced drawn butter, braised pig’s foot with lentils and foie gras, dorade with fennel confit, a succulent veal steak with fresh morels and cream, a steak frites endorsed by Mark Bittman, and, as pictured above and eaten twice by yours truly, a lovely, understated piece of rare tuna with herbs and ratatouille. For dessert, they make what many consider to be the best Paris-Brest in town, a ring-shaped pastry filled with chestnut cream, but I fell hard for their île flottante, a fist-size dollop of poached meringue floating on a sea of crème anglaise. Take a look at their business card, and you’ll get a sense of the spirit of the place. I think dinner should look like that at least once a week. That’s me on the left, with the fork, only I wear less eye shadow and a smaller bra size.

The addresses for these places and more are below. May we all dream of nefles and pastry tonight.

La Grande Epicerie de Paris
38, rue de Sèvres, 7th arrondissement
Métro: Sèvres-Babylone

Patrick Roger
108, boulevard St. Germain, 6th arrondissement
Métro: Odéon or Cluny-La Sorbonne, I think

Jean-Charles Rochoux
16, rue d’Assas, 6th arrondissement
Métro: Sèvres-Babylone or Rennes

A la Petite Fabrique
12, rue St. Sabin, 11th arrondissement
Métro: Bastille or Bréguet-Sabin

Marché Bastille
On boulevard Richard Lenoir, from Place de la Bastille to rue Saint-Sabin
Thursday and Sunday mornings, until about 2 pm
Métro: Bastille or Bréguet-Sabin

Au Levain du Marais
32, rue de Turenne, 3rd arrondissement
Closed Sunday and Monday
Métro: Bastille or Chemin Vert
and 28, boulevard Beaumarchais, 11th arrondissement
Closed Tuesday and Wednesday
Métro: Bastille or Chemin Vert

Pierre Hermé
72, rue Bonaparte, 6th arrondissement
Métro: St.-Germain-des-Prés

16, rue Royale, 8th arrondissement
Métro: Madeleine or Concorde

Café des Phares
On the west side of Place de la Bastille
Métro: Bastille

Au Petit Fer à Cheval
30, rue Vieille du Temple, 4th arrondissement
Métro: St.-Paul

Bistrot Paul Bert
18, rue Paul Bert, 11th arrondissement
Reservations recommended.
Tel: 01 43 72 24 01
Métro: Faidherbe-Chaligny

And a few other spots that I seem to have run out of space to write about:

L'As du Fallafel
The best fallafel in town.
34, rue des Rosiers, 4th arrondissement
Métro: St.-Paul

Bistrot du Dôme
An offshoot of the popular Montparnasse restaurant Le Dôme, with very good seafood. If they are offering encornets à la plancha, order them.
1, rue Delambre, 14th arrondissement
Reservations recommended.
Tel: 01 43 35 32 00
Métro: Vavin

Restaurant Astier
A lovely, intimate bistro in the 11th, with a three-course, 29-euro menu and a stellar cheese platter.
44, rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud
Reservations recommended.
Tel: 01 43 57 16 35
Métro: Oberkampf

Autour d'un verre
Clotilde introduced us to this funky little gem run by an American and his Finnish wife. Great wines and home cooking, especially the fondant au chocolat, and a great place to gab past midnight with a new girlfriend.
21, rue de Trévise, 9th arrondissement
Métro: Cadet


Blogger swanner said...

There's a loquat tree in almost every yard here in Florida... In fact, the first tree I ever climbed was a gigantic one in our back yard and I did it to get to the juicy ripe fruit high up in the branches. They are grown more as shade trees than for their fruit because I rarely see people harvesting it and I've never seen it for sale, but that's fine, more for me! The season just ended down here but I'll ask my friends a bit farther north if there are any left on their trees. I bet you'd like loquat jelly, too!

6:07 PM, May 07, 2007  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

ooooh its heavenly eating loquats fresh from the tree. We have almost one in every yard in Davis, California. We even get to have free loquats(and figs!) to eat on a green belt/park that the govt graciosuly provides us with :)

6:57 PM, May 07, 2007  
Blogger Alice Q said...

Thanks for sharing Molly - I am definitely going to stash this list away for my next long-awaited trip to Paris!

7:02 PM, May 07, 2007  
Anonymous Leah said...

Since when has a single thing you've ever written "dragged on"? So wonderful to read and I can't wait to share in more adventures! xo

7:26 PM, May 07, 2007  
Blogger lisa s said...

yum yum yum and more yum!
i love loquats too.... such a great color!

8:08 PM, May 07, 2007  
Blogger sarah said...

i'm so glad you posted this! i will be in paris for 2 months - i leave in a week. i was there only once as a kid, 10 years ago. this is perfect.

11:05 PM, May 07, 2007  
Blogger Lizzy said...

I love reading about your adventures in Paris. I hope I get to go there sometime and "have an excuse to eat more than usual" or at least eat the same amount that I eat here, just more French:)

11:25 PM, May 07, 2007  
Blogger Shira said...

I feel lucky to live around the corner from Paul Bert, and I definitely rate the noisette from Cafe du Phares, although every time I go there I seem to walk through the middle of their philosphical gatherings.

11:34 PM, May 07, 2007  
Anonymous Anjali said...

Yum, loquats! I grew up eating them straight off the tree we had in our California yard. But now that I live in Japan, the treasured biwa are about $1 each, so I never eat them. Sniff!

1:53 AM, May 08, 2007  
Anonymous Allison said...

Ahhh, I have such bitter sweet feelings about this entry. You see, I lived for 5 and a half years in Italy and I, too, had my local grocers and bars and quirky little restaurants. I would so love to go back for a visit. But would they all remember me? And how am I ever going to get back with a husband and two kids in tow?

3:26 AM, May 08, 2007  
Anonymous kayenne said...

hmm... are you familiar with Sadaharu Aoki? i've heard so many good things about him. =)

3:37 AM, May 08, 2007  
Blogger Mercedes said...

Oh, brilliant, what a lovely reference! My recent to visits to Paris have only been layovers in the airport, it's time to remedy that!

5:58 AM, May 08, 2007  
Blogger hannah said...

*sigh* i am being consumed with wanderlust as i type. must.go.to.paris....

6:35 AM, May 08, 2007  
Blogger knit_tgz said...

Over here (Portugal) we call them "nêsperas" or in the North, where I'm from, "magnórios" (if you check, the tree belongs to the Magnoliopsida order). I love them, and every child has heard the parents tell them that the uglier they look, the better they are. But I don't peel them. I just wash them and eat them (peel and all) and spit out the seeds and the "tail".

There's lot of loquat trees over here on yards and gardens, but unfortunately some people do not use the fruit and leave them on the trees, and I haven't worked up the courage to knock on the doors and ask if I could harvest them (I should also get one of those harvesting sticks with a basket, as I don't think I could climb those trees safely!).

6:40 AM, May 08, 2007  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I will go to Paris in the end of May and I will defenitly visit these places! Thank you for the list of adresses :)

7:33 AM, May 08, 2007  
Blogger christine said...

Wow, thank you for this post! If I ever get my butt back there I'm definitely printing this out and taking it with me. Really enjoyed reading this, and so glad you had a wonderful time! :)

7:52 AM, May 08, 2007  
Anonymous Marvin said...

Thanks for this beautifully written post. My wife and I are visiting Paris for the first time exactly one month from today! Yay! I will definitely keep your list of addresses at the ready.

8:16 AM, May 08, 2007  
Blogger amisha said...

i am dreaming of fruits and pastries and cheeses now... thank you for this lovely mini-vacation. i agree with your friend about traveling and eating! it is the highlight for me too. sometimes i feel guilty about this but then i think, you know, it's okay. absorbing culture a different way :)

8:43 AM, May 08, 2007  
Anonymous Sarah McColl said...

When Sebastian and I were in Paris for New Year's we started every morning with a cafe creme at Au Petit Fer à Cheval. Thanks for reminding me how lovely it felt to be there.

9:06 AM, May 08, 2007  
Blogger V Smoothe said...

I am just dripping with jealousy. And hunger. Perhaps once the cookbook is finished, you can start writing The Orangette Guide to Paris. It would be the best travel guide out there.

12:19 PM, May 08, 2007  
Blogger Max said...

I love this: “The only reason I travel,” he wrote, “is for an excuse to eat more than usual.”

It's so perfect! In fact, my picture on the About Us page of Recipe4Living is me and my friend (cut out of the pic) devouring our last baguettes on the EuroStar heading back to London from a weekend in Paris. Did you have any palmier??? Those are my absolute favorites!

12:49 PM, May 08, 2007  
Blogger Caterine said...

you know so much about good place in paris... i'll note some of them for my next visite.
now, i have a question : parles-tu français? if you do so i'll comment in french :)

1:16 PM, May 08, 2007  
Blogger BipolarLawyerCook said...

Gee, you really got your meat in, hmm? J/k, I wish I was more of a vegetarian. I have been dreaming on sausage and butter and ham sandwiches ever since reading your post, however. If you've never read Elizabeth David's Italian Cooking (and I am sure you have) she says that the only way to eat prosciutto is "with the very best butter." Of course! Thanks for the memory.

6:46 PM, May 08, 2007  
Blogger Sui Mai said...

I adore your blog and have been reading it since I was in Hong Kong. I moved to the Marais at the end of Jan and know all the lovely places you mentioned! In fact, I'm surprised I didn't bump into you as I live very close to Rambuteau and go to the Bastille market on Thurs!

I'm so glad you had such a yummy time with your Mother!!

Come back soon!

3:52 AM, May 09, 2007  
Blogger dc365 said...

I have been seriously toying with taking the Boyfriend to Paris for a long weekend, once I get a bonus check I'm expecting from work in a couple of months. I think this just sealed the deal.

5:12 AM, May 09, 2007  
Blogger Ales said...

sounds like a great trip! I might go to Paris this weekend, but it is a very last minute thing so I won't know until Friday (!). btw, we have three tree of nespole in our garden and I adore them. I am working on a nespole chutney at the moment but it is such a pain to clean them : )

5:40 AM, May 09, 2007  
Anonymous David said...

Interesting description of the saleswoman at A la Fabrique, as "certifiably loony".

Another word comes to mind to describe her...(which is not so polite.)

But the welcome at M. Rochoux is nice & friendly, and those bars with the caramelized hazelnuts are indeed spectacularly delicious.

10:04 AM, May 09, 2007  
Anonymous Maija said...

I too am a big fan of the "eat, walk, walk to eat" vacation. Just returned from NYC where much of my time was spent doing that - the first night there, a goat cheese & fig crepe, 2 slices of fresh mozarella pizza, a cone of pomme frites, a Max Brenner mexican hot chocolate, and several rounds of sake was shared & consumed by my friend & I.

4:04 PM, May 09, 2007  
Blogger Deborah Dowd said...

If I ever get to Paris, I will know exactly where to go! Thanks for the wonderful tour and pix- the radishes look so beautiful.

3:41 AM, May 10, 2007  
Blogger Aleza said...

loquats are called 'shesek' in israel, where i first encountered them. they were sold in the market, but the best (tarter, more flavor) ones were on a tree that was on the corner of my block. it was sort of in somebody's yard, but they didn't seem to be eating them, so i felt justified grabbing one of them each time i walked by. so good. so so good. i'm actually going there soon, and i look forward to eating some. or rather, lots.

also, in central america, i think a 'nispero' was a different fruit... and apparently in cuba, they call 'nispero' what i would call a sapodilla. interesting.

10:22 AM, May 10, 2007  
Blogger Molly said...

Guys, I'm a disaster at keeping up with comments these days. Please bear with me! Replying to you never seems to happen as quickly as I wish it did.

Swanner, I am so jealous. A loquat tree in every yard? If I didn't like Seattle so much, I'd be very, very tempted to hop the first flight to Florida...

Anonymous, you have them in Davis?! I'm headed to the Bay Area for a quick visit next month, and I'm going to be prowling the place for loquats...

My pleasure, Alice Q.

Aw, Leah, thank you! You're dreamy. xo

Lisa S., can you find loquats easily in SF? I'm salivating at the thought...

Sarah, I'm so glad I posted this too! I hope it leads you to some memorable meals. Have a great trip.

Thanks, Lizzy! I hope so too.

Shira, you live around the corner from Bistrot Paul Bert? I'm so jealous. Grrr.

One dollar each, Anjali?! That's crazy. I'd be saving up, if I were you...

Allison, if Paris is any indication, I'm sure they'd remember you in Italy. I was stunned by how little things had changed at some of my favorite spots. I say you find a way to go back there soon, though, and see for yourself. Don't you think? Maybe a solo trip? Or a quick getaway for you and your husband, sans kids? Hop to it...

Yep, Kayenne, I am familiar with Sadaharu Aoki, although I must admit that I haven't tasted any of his pastries. I did ogle them through the pastry case at Lafayette Gourmet, though...

Mercedes, it's definitely time to remedy that! Definitely.

Yes, Hannah. Must. Go! And when you do, I'm coming with you.

Oh, Knit_tgz, I love the thought of all those loquat trees, just waiting to be picked! Sigh.

You're welcome, Anonymous. It's my pleasure. Have a great visit.

Thanks, Christine! I loved writing this post. So much fun to relive all those moments and meals...

Have a wonderful trip, Marvin!

I like that, Amisha! "Absorbing culture in a different way" - like, um, ah, through my digestive tract?

You and Sebastian had the right idea, Sarah. How fun to know that you two were there!

V Smoothe, I'll see what I can do...

Max, that picture is so cute! Love it. But as for the palmiers, you're going to hate me. I didn't have one. I do love them, but I was distracted by the chaussons aux pommes and croissants and tartes and so on! You know? Ack.

Mais bien sur, Caterine! Je parle francais. Vas-y!

Bipolarlawyercook, you'll have to wait for the next post, when I write about blood sausage. Best food memory of the whole trip!

Thanks, Sui Mai! Hope you had a good morning at the Bastille Market today...

Go, dc365! Goooo! Do it!

Oh Ales, what I wouldn't do for some loquat chutney! That sounds so, so good.

David, I think I know just the word you have in mind. Does it start with a "b," perhaps? Hmm?

Maija, that sounds like my kind of night! Wow. Makes me want to go to NYC right this minute.

I hope you get to Paris soon, Deborah! In the meantime, go get yourself some radishes.

Aleza, I wish someone on my block had a loquat tree! Although we do have lots of blackberry bushes around here, which I suppose are good in their own right...

11:01 AM, May 10, 2007  
Blogger Alex said...

I've always heard about loquats, growing up (from my grandmother, and it always seemed such a farcical name), but never had the pleasure of eating them. Seems I'll have to remedy that as soon as possible!

Molly, I'm a newish reader (a few months now), but I've never commented before. I had to break the drought to ask you: You've mentioned the times when you lived in Paris, but what did you do when you were there? Did you work? How did you find a place to live? I have an EU passport, so that part's easy at least, I think!

I travelled to France two years ago for the first time since I was a little kid, and I fell back in love with the place. I speak some French, enough to get around okay when I was there last, but I'm not fluent. No one else I know has moved to Europe, so I'm turning to you. Help?

11:14 AM, May 10, 2007  
Blogger Nat said...

GAAH! Loquats!
Growing up, there were a couple of loquat trees in our garden, I love them. I spent many summer days eating those things straight off the tree, still warm from the sun. They don't last more than about half a day off the tree, they go grainy and dry.
Now I'll just have to go travelling in France again to relive my childhood memories!

12:45 PM, May 12, 2007  
Blogger Molly said...

My apologies, Alex, for taking so long to reply! I've got my fingers crossed that you'll stop back by and see this. To answer your questions, well, I've done several different things on my stays in Paris. The first time was as a student, from 1999 to 2000. I lived with a host family and was there for about six months. When I finished college in 2001, I went back there again, this time to work. This is what my job was. It doesn't pay much, but if you can afford to do it, it's really a pretty sweet gig. I was assigned to a high school in Saint Cloud, a small town to the west of Paris, not terribly far from Versailles, but I lived in Paris proper, in the 11th arrondissement. I rented a furnished studio apartment, which wasn't cheap, but I made do. I found it through a company called Lodgis. I was there for about 10 months that time, and because I was technically an employee of the Ministry of Education, I had a carte de sejour and health insurance and was "legal." I went back in 2004 to do research, and then this year for pleasure. Let me know if you have any more questions. Happy to help!

Nat, you're killing me! A loquat straight from the tree, and still warm from the sun?! I WANT ONE.

12:06 PM, May 17, 2007  
Anonymous Sylee/Berlin Reified said...

Your post was such a gift! I'd eyed and dismissed nefles since I arrived in Paris, sharing your aversion to the bruised, but after reading what you had to say I promptly bought a punnet and devoured the rather baffling fruit according to your helpful instructions. Many thanks!

12:50 AM, May 18, 2007  
Blogger Molly said...

My pleasure, Sylee!

2:03 PM, May 18, 2007  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

If I may just give you Jean Charles Rochoux's website: www.jcrochoux.fr. It is almost as delightful as the shop, but you can't taste!

5:23 AM, October 21, 2007  
Anonymous rachel said...

Molly, I know just what you mean! I plan my travel itinerary around restaurants, coffeeshops, delis and cookware stores! When we lived in Edinburgh, my husband would show our visitors round the historical sites while my landmarks were all food-related!

12:53 AM, July 10, 2009  

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