Letter From Paris

By Harriet Welty-Rochefort

Paris Kiosque - September 1997 - Volume 4, Number 9
Copyright (c) 1997 Harriet Welty-Rochefort - Used with permission.

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It's summer in Paris and like everyone else in this city, I was feeling the itch to get away. (The great thing about living in Paris is that it's so easy to get away for the week-end - the Loire Valley and Burgundy are but a few hours away and you're guaranteed a total change of scenery and a break from the fast pace of Parisian life). A friend of mine agreed that it was High Time for a Trip, made the plans (I'm good at wanting to get away but terrible about making the arrangements) and soon we were on the road, first speeding down the highway to Burgundy, then driving slowly down little secondary roads through primly arranged vineyards to the tiny town of Chablis (of Chablis wine fame). A stop in a wine-celler for a first tasting of the famous beverage, then a second. The verdict: good. Delicious! We bought a few bottles to savor when back in Paris, then strolled down what seemed to be the Main Street of Chablis and found ourselves admiring a display of the town's specialty: andouillete (chitterlings)

Are you still with me, dear readers? Ok, I know that your stomach may be churning and you may not approve of eating the intestines of animals and I would further agree that an andouillete can be DISGUSTING if it is not top quality. When good, however, it is sublime (that is, for people who can stomach - pardon the pun-that kind of thing). We stared at the andouillette display a minute, then walked in. The owner cut off a hunk of = it and solemnly offered us each a slice to taste. It was so good that we bought an entire one to eat straightaway. She sliced it for us and carefully placed it in a piece of paper. We walked out the door and strolled down the street again, this time sharing our sliced andouillette the way most people share a sack of candy. By then it was time for lunch so we crossed the street to a friendly looking but simple restaurant where we each ordered... andouillete. Then into the car and down other roads into little fairytale looking towns with castles and caves.

The next day we happened upon the little village of Flavigny, home of pretty little anis-flavored candies made there since the ninth century and sold in charming old-fashioned tins which are so pretty that some people (me, for example) buy the candy just to collect the boxes. It was getting toward lunchtime and we weren't in the mood for one of those wonderful but interminable provincial Sunday meals - nor did we hope to, or want to, happen upon a "fast food" (not much chance of that happening outside the big cities, thank heavens). So we were absolutely delighted to stumble on a farm right in the middle of town where farmers wives were selling their products which people could consume right there on long tables. I can't remember eating such tasty food - at such a price. After gorging on rabbit (à la moutarde), quiche, a fresh lettuce salad straight from the garden, a regional cheese (Epoisses) and , a superb pie composed of blackberry, apple and rhubarb (the best I have EVER had) along with some good red wine (Burgundy of course), we sat back, yawned with content, and totalled the bill which came to 307 FF or about 76FF apiece. Our heads and hearts and stomachs satisfied, we drove back to Paris with visions of castles and rabbits and andouillettes swimming in our heads, happy with our week-end and already planning our next getaway.

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Harriet Welty-Rochefort, a bona fide Midwesterner from Iowa, visited Paris for the first time while in college. She became so completely enamored of France that she stayed - and has been there ever since. Married to a Frenchman and the mother of two Franco-American boys, Harriet Welty-Rochefort writes on business, lifestyle and travel for major U.S. publications. Her book - French Toast - is a lighthearted look at French manners and mores. Online orders as well as telephone/fax orders (1-800-387-8992 in the USA only) are possible. It is also available at all major English language bookstores in Paris. Writes Leslie Caron: French Toast includes the most delightful barbs at France's subtle but deep-rooted codes of behaviour...I read the book on the EuroStar between Paris and London and wished the train had not reached its top speed of 300 kph! Harriet can be contacted at 101676.467@compuserve.com.