Soupe du jour

 

 

With le confinement in force we've been making a different soup almost every day.

Above: soupe de poisson à la provençale with its grated gruyère, garlic-paprika rouille and croûtons

***

Recipes in April newsletter

Pietons

Pedestrians only.

Staying connected

 

Cellphones are indispensable but living in Paris, I've learned, and more than once, that one never knows when a sector's wi-fi, taken for granted, will go down or worse, how long it will take to be up and running again. Years ago we decided to always keep a ligne fixe - landline - just in case, and for emergencies. And right now, as most commerce is closed and many have fled the city (meaning: neighbors are scarcer than you think), it is important to have some kind of communications backup to turn to.

In our Montmartre quartier with its vibrant café lifestyle, the sudden lockdown produced withdrawal symptoms in some, made not that much difference for others and, as the French are self-declared individualistes, le confinement seemed to have changed lives little.

Even so, during these times it is more important than ever to stay connected and make an effort to connect with those who might find themselves living on their own. In a neighborhood café we frequent, almost every afternoon around the same time, seven days a week, a small group of elderly pensioners would occupy a few tables in *their* corner, cajoling over pots of tea and coupes des glaces - multi-favored scoops of ice cream - discussing everything from the day’s politics to why a splash of Pernod enhances fish soup. Among them: two sisters, a retired monk (do monks retire?), a once-famous French singer's music arranger and a former Russian dancer. All regulars, they'd descend at the same time from nearby senior living facilities and shared apartments. When I'd look up from my laptop, there they'd be, reassuringly, day after day, some with canes, some nodding to me as they'd hobble past my table in single file, others planting the now forbidden bises on each of the owner's cheeks, and each other's. But now, the sudden closures have put an end to it.

In France, so many in this advanced age group don't have or use computers. They've never been on much less seen a group video chat unless their grandchildren set one up and today, along with those with pre-existing medical conditions, they find themselves at the top of the French Ministry of Health's "most-vulnerable" list.  Those in retirement, senior living and nursing homes have been abruptly cut off from outside visitors and, confined to often small living quarters, have yet to receive that promised ipad. A simple phone call now and again could make all the difference. - BPJ

Deserted

Place du Tertre, bustling cradle of portrait painters, artists, cafés, galleries and tourists, yesterday.

Most essential

Not long before our stay-at-home orders became de rigueur I met a friend for a drink on the Left Bank. We got into a conversation about the now legendary toilet paper panic buying in the U.S. and I noted that a friend in Brooklyn informed me that TV therapists have been attempting to explain this behavior. While supermarket chariots in Paris have been fuller than usual, we haven't seen toilet paper hoarding. So I turned to the bartender who'd been listening and asked her, if she could name the one item that the French are stocking up on more than others, what would it be? Without hesitation she said, "Butter." We all laughed and you know something, I agree. You should see our freezer. - BPJ 

Above: a salt-studded hunk of butter from Brittany

 

L'Avant Comptoir de la Terre

3 Carrefour de l'Odéon 75006

Storm clouds

The Basilica of Sacré Coeur from Place Dalida, a one-minute walk from chez nous.

 

Love in the time of corona

 

 

Boulangeries remain open.

 
***

As countries across the globe restrict travel, close borders and put cities and towns on lockdown, most everyone will be huddling indoors for what might become a long haul, perhaps as much as four months. France is starting with two weeks, with a wait-and-see clause in reserve.

Already, on an ecological level, we are seeing what might be: satellite images show large metropolitan areas from Wuhan to New York spookily pollution free. In Venice, some claim that waters are running clear as fish return to canals, something not seen for decades. Our Montmartre apartment, thankfully on a side-street with a great choice of food shopping (not to mention a Thai takeaway) just downstairs, overlooks a quiet interior courtyard with trees, and while we usually wake up to birdsong, this morning sounded like we are living in the countryside.

For couples and families, being confined together brings its own challenges. At the end of last week, as glasses clinked one last time at our now closed local café, ideas were shared of what to do and what not to do, in the hopes that when this all blows over, we will all be better off for it.

What came up again and again: respecting each other's space - harder to do than it sounds. Obvious culprits: leaving a mess for others to clean up; high noise volume - whether loud phone chats, late night TV, Pavarotti belting out "Nessun Dorma" or thumping rap tunes with windows flung wide. We agreed that lots more cooking at home will be inevitable, and that immune-boosting soups and cutting out sugar, which lowers the immune system, made sense. It turns out that for now, meal deliveries will stay in operation - Deliveroo, Frichti, UberEats... - and will be left at the door to respect distancing.

Before/after-the-lockdown photos of thin-to-obese have been making rounds, but as France is not (yet) a country of fridge-raiding and pancakes and popcorn, this remains to be seen.

Habits to acquire: removing shoes upon entering the home, using cleaning products that disinfect surfaces, door handles, on/off switches, daily; keeping a gel soap within easy reach of sinks and of course washing hands (think Lady Macbeth) but surgeon-like, farther up the arm. Even in buildings with cleaning crews we talked about a need to take individual responsibility for wiping down banisters, elevator buttons, street door handles. It's believed that the virus clings to metal and glass surfaces - change, cellphone screens, elevators, supermarket checkout counters - for hours. And to clothing.

We see this as a chance to catch up on much - side-lined reading, projects, films (providers such as Orange are offering its customers free unlimited movies til the end of March), organizing closets, shelves and neglected caves - as well as to re-connect, cuddle, get into parlor games (chess anyone?), long talks, soul-searching. 

 

A post on Instagram said, "Your grandparents were called to war. You're being called to your couch. You can do this!" Happy hunkering. - BPJ