A blog about the smoke (and elsewhere)
The Marais has some jewels - especially the Musée de la Chasse et Nature (also bereft of vittles) - but you have to pay for them in the tedium of expensive crapshops, chainshit and a swarm of arseholes, some on scooters.
We took the salad of the day and a big planche of cheese with a couple of glasses of Chablis on the side. The salad turned out mostly to be pesto-stirred pasta with a few bits of veg secreted within. Palatable but not exactly what we were looking for. The cheese on the other hand was five varieties of the runny shiznit with a generous helping of rustic bread alongside - definitely a better option. The wine was too warm.
Great pizza, bored staff, tedious customers.
Good food, poor choices. I have to say that eating tête de veau isn't something I'll do again in a hurry. The meaty bits were ok but the gluey bits were ... gluey.
Professional waiter, cold beer and massive salad with big lumps of salty goat cheese au Cadran du PMU. Recommended.
The Marché St Germain. It has an Apple store, a Marks and Spencer and an arcade. But it's not Covent Garden. Oh no, there's none of your stick riding Yodas here. Or tedious shouters with flamesticks shoved facewards, gurning for a jaded mob of tourist cretins. This is left-bank Paris and they're too civilised for that crap.
A fun part of the production has been assembling props - a 40s Woodbine astray, an old-fashioned bottle of scotch, a cigarette case and a whiff of 40s in the costume of the characters. And the cast - Anna Rogers, Matt Griffin and Ruari Johnson - have been extraordinarily successful at bringing Musset's characters to life in a faux-Fitzrovian setting.
