I love Paris in the springtime: the entrée

If the previous post was the amuse bouche, then we'll call this the entrée. That's French for appetizer, by the way, not the main course. But you savvy readers knew that already, didn't you?

Whenever I travel, I get my bearings by visiting local food markets, from corner grocery stores to farmers' markets, bakeries to butchers. I like to believe these forays offer a glimpse into the every day world of the locals. But perhaps that's just glossy food magazine drivel. Regardless, there's really no better way to start the morning. And no better way to whet one's appetite for a 3-course lunch.

One of my favorite memories of this Parisian trip was Friday morning's trek across the city to buy just picked artichokes and cauliflower from a farmer named Joël Thiébault, whose family has been growing heirloom vegetables since the Middle Ages (well before "heirloom vegetables," légumes retrouvés in French, were "rediscovered"). I crawled out of bed at dawn, leaving N safely tucked under the sheets. On my walk from our apartment in the Marais, I marveled at the sight of Notre Dame in the morning sunlight. Then I joined the sleepy school children in matching uniforms and climbed aboard the RER commuter train to the 16th arrondissement to a farmers' market across the river from the Eiffel Tower.

Not all market excursions were as picturesque. Other days we visited more typical markets where, presumably, real working Parisians shop.

One morning, for example, N and I stepped into the future and visited the frozen tundra of a branch of Picard ("2 to beam up, Jean-Luc."). If you spliced the DNA from the frozen food aisles of Trader Joe's with the embarrassment of riches of Dean & Deluca and the sterile strangeness of Woody Allen's Sleeper, you might come up with something like Picard: gourmet frozen food. Our visit prompted the burning question "when is my local Safeway gonna start carrying frozen escargots de bourgogne, foie gras canard entier cuit au torchon, choucroute garnie au riesling, and macarons caramel au beurre salé?"

Another day N and I found ourselves wandering the opulent aisles of excess at La Grande Épicerie de Paris on the ground floor of the Bon Marché department store, Paris' answer to Harrods Food Halls in London. We ogled the terrines and mousses and fromage and the best butter in the world, favored by 3-star chefs like Alain Passard. The selection is dazzling. They even sell horse milk. What kind of nut job would drink such a thing?

But for me the most fun and lasting inspiration are found at local farmers' markets. As an aside, the term "farmers' market" isn't exactly apt in most of the street markets I visited in Paris. Local? Organic? What's that? At this time of year, much of the produce seemed to be grown well outside of Paris or abroad, usually in Spain or northern Africa. With few exceptions, the people selling the fruits and vegetables were most certainly not the ones who grew it. This is not a criticism, just an observation. To be fair, a fair percentage of the produce at my local Ferry Plaza market is grown beyond the arbitrary 100-mile radius that die hard locavores refuse to cross. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to refer to the markets of Paris as "outdoor markets," rather than farmers' markets? Correct me if I'm wrong, Parisian readers.

In seven days in Paris, I visited 3 different outdoor and covered markets. With David as our guide, N and I explored the oldest covered market in Paris, the Beauvau Market on the Place d'Aligre in the 12th. Unlike many of the other markets in Paris, this one is open every day except Monday and is even open evenings until 7:30, except Sunday. Highlights included meeting some of the characters that frequent David's blog, including the famous fish boys (sorry Matt, no photos), a spice seller where we bought Tarbais beans for a future cassoulet and emerald green Sicilian pistachios, a cheese monger who sold us cheese and butter so good I nearly wept when I tasted them, and a stop for an apéritif at Le Baron Rouge, a scruffy wine shop and bar where they still sell bulk wine from the barrel.

Another morning we meandered through the sprawling Bastille Market, which takes place along Boulevard Richard Lenoir in the 11th on Thursdays and Sundays, 7 am to 2:30 pm. There we bumped into David again. This time he was leading some friendly Americans on a market tour. We snacked on crêpes, sighed at the sight of pristine fish and eels, and snapped up some fleur de sel de Guérande and impressive flavored salts (like cinnamon salt, which would be a perfect garnish for an autumnal pumpkin soup) from another of David's friends, Régis Dion the salt seller.

I saved the best for last. My favorite market of the week, the one I started to describe at the opening of this post, was the smallest. It reminded me of my favorite market in the Bay Area, the Tuesday market in Berkeley. My destination Friday morning was the Gros-La-Fontaine Market in the 16th (Rue Gros, Tuesdays and Fridays 7 am-2:30 pm).

The attraction at this tiny market was the aforementioned Mssr. Thiébault, the one farmer whose name graces the local menus of many of the best Parisian restaurants. Mssr. Thiébault and his family seem to be the exception to the rule. According to Louisa Chu of Movable Feast and food writer Patricia Wells, generations of Thiébaults have been growing vegetables on the same plot of land 4 miles from the Eiffel Tower since the Middle Ages. All of the vegetables in the above photos are from Mssr. Thiébault's stand. His produce was far prettier and fresher than most of what I had seen elsewhere in Paris. Based on the dinner I cooked later that day, his cauliflower, artichokes, green garlic, spring onions, and dandelion greens were every bit as flavorful as the ones we find at the Ferry Plaza market in San Francisco.

Mssr. Thiébault also sells his produce at the Président Wilson market on Wednesdays and Saturdays from 7 am to 2:30 pm. You can even buy a book featuring his vegetables and recipes from top Parisian restaurants, translated from the original French into English. And, if you don't have a kitchen in Paris, you can sample his vegetables at 3-star restaurants Pierre Gagnaire and L'Astrance if you're in the mood for a splurge (and have taken out a second mortgage), or at more modest and reasonably priced "neo-bistros" like Mon Vieil Ami, Ze Kitchen Galerie, and Le Severo.

More on bistros in my next installment, the plat principal.

Food|and Drink|Paris|Farmers' Markets

Comments

[matt]

Oh, how I'm enjoying your reports on your fantastic trip right now! I feel as if I'm there with you guys!

And I suppose I can get over the lack of images of a few certain fishmongers. I shall survive. Darnit!

[Tracy]

Brett, can I be so bold as to ask that you remove the link to Amazon and support a small local business. We have a website that folks can order from too, and here is the link to the book you mentioned. It looks amazing!http://www.covertocoversf.com/NASApp/store/Search?s=results&initiate=yes&ks=q&qsselect=KQ&title=&author=&qstext=2080305115&x=0&y=0

[Brett]

Matt, I'm glad you're enjoying my Parisian stories! There's more to come.

Tracy, no problem! I changed the link in my post. As someone who's about to open a small business, I want to support other independently owned local businesses, especially one that's right across the street from my future restaurant!

[laura @ cucina testa rossa]

are you stil here?!?!?!?!

[Daniel]

I noticed you didnt' mention the market at Gare Montparnasse...it's no longer there? I used to go there everytime I visited Paris.