Persian rice

...is very nice.

With home-cooked meals on the table every night, I've been varying cuisines, veering from my usual repertoire of what I call "Mediterranean French," influenced by much time spent in the South of France, living in Spain and of course, my father, who loved to cook - and loved to cook Caribbean rice, its crisp gratin at the bottom of the pot the most coveted bit.

Back when I was at college in the U.S. a group of Iranian students, homesick for their favorite dishes, would get together and prepare feasts almost every week, and no matter what else appeared on the table - exotic salads, roasted meats, flatbreads from scratch - one dish, Tahdig, was always present, and always stood out. Fast forward to Paris, and for this crunchy buttery rice dish I took the liberty of adding dillweed, an ingredient whose odor brings back a flood of memories associated with those days, and with this cuisine. On this night, the rice paired perfectly with caramelized souris d'agneau (below - click to enlarge), chopped parsley salad and a full-bodied AOC Côte du Rhône. - BPJ

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Recipes in April newsletter

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

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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.