Words and Photos Candolin Cook
Last fall, under the pretext of celebrating my fortieth birthday, I went to Paris for the first time and ate like I wouldn’t see forty-one. My husband and I rolled through the arrondissements like cartoon snowballs gathering size and steam with each boulangerie, pâtisserie, and corner bistro we passed. We tried all the French culinary clichés: elegant escargot and rustic boeuf bourguignon; a simple jambon beurre and an intricate tarte tatin; delicate chocolate crepes and flaky croissants. There were strolls through farmers markets, sojourns to très hip wine bars, and even a Michelin-star dinner cruise down the Seine—from which we still haven’t recovered financially. With so much incredible food, it was difficult narrowing down the following list, but these are the bites beckoning this desert girl back.
Fresh figs, Marché Bastille. To me, there’s nothing better than a plump, ripe fig, and the pint of Black Missions I picked up at the Marché Bastille, an open-air market in the Marais district, were truly the best I’ve ever had. Their vibrant magenta interiors tasted of sweet jam—the texture juicier and the flavor more concentrated than any I’ve found in the States. At the nearby Place des Vosges, I ripped the fruits in half and piled them onto a fresh baguette slathered with triple-cream brie, also purchased at the marché, for the perfect Parisian picnic.
Small plates, Bouche. Nestled on the outskirts of the 11th arrondissement, this under-the-radar (to American tourists) spot feels like a cool natural wine bar in Brooklyn. Bouche offers an ever-changing menu of creative small plates, such as tuna tartare with trout roe and gim bugak (seaweed chip), and artichoke leaves sprinkled with dukkah. Each dish tasted fresh and balanced with ample acid—a nice change of pace after all the butter and rich sauces we’d been consuming.
Grand Marnier soufflé, Joséphine Chez Dumonet. No trip to Paris would be complete without a classic bistro experience. Joséphine Chez Dumonet in the Montparnasse neighborhood has the perfect old-school vibe, with yellow walls, warm wood accents, and grumpy waiters. Signature dishes like the duck confit and terrine de foie gras taste exactly like you’d hope and imagine. But their Grand Marnier soufflé is a showstopper. The ethereal pillow pops out of its baking dish as high as it can stretch without toppling over. Its cap is golden brown and its custard-meets-air interior tastes faintly of citrus. A small glass of Grand Marnier comes on the side for pouring or sipping. (Be sure to order it at the beginning of your meal so that it’s ready by the end.) Bon appétit!
Candolin Cook is a historian, writer, editor, and former co-editor of edible New Mexico. She recently received her doctorate in history from the University of New Mexico and is working on her first book.
