Parisiennes, like New Yorkers, are accustomed to foreign visitors, expensive cigarettes, public transport, dumbly cooing pigeons and jaywalking.
And there are avenues steeped in luxury. Le Rue Royal and Place de la Madeleine are home to Coco and Christian, Dolce, Gucci and the original L'Oreal. The grocery store displays designer food, too shiny and flawless to touch, let alone desecrate by eating.
There are long eclairs garnished with gold nuggets, blinis topped with roses of creamed crab and dabs of black caviar; lacquered dark chocolate tarts with pink marzipan filigree, salads stacked in 12 colors, framed and set on glass shelves like edible art for sale. The salmon comes from Sweden and the water comes from Norway. Baby-pink prawns swim in dill cream with orange zest and rustic loaves blush beneath a vain layer of white flour powder. Royal crabs lie tamed, cold on chipped ice under spotless glass. The girls behind the counter look like models and they sweep their manicured hands over their goods displayed like jewelry, precious mouthfuls pressed into perfect shapes.
Abonner på:
Kommentarer til indlægget (Atom)
1 kommentar:
What are you doing to the rest of us who can't be there, too? I want to go back to Paris! I want to look at food in window displays that is too expensive to eat. I want to go in restaurants and eat cheap food that is still too expensive to eat, thanks to the strong euro, and be so glad for the French who have spent centuries refining the art of eating. Hope you are having a grand time. Eat a baguette for me with some butter, have some cheese and a glass of red table wine. Then some really good coffee with heavy cream. Hope there is a flower blooming somewhere for you to enjoy!
Ginger
Send en kommentar