There’s always something new to learn in the French language and I recently came across juilletiste et l'aoûtien (yes the French label you depending on when you prefer to take your holidays, and there is fierce debate). I’m a strict juilletiste as I prefer to be out of town in July and think Paris in August is simply wonderful. Quiet streets, empty shops, nowhere to be and nothing to do except flâneur and relax, it’s almost like a secondary holiday as no-one expects anything productive to happen and even if they do I can shrug my shoulders like a true Frenchie and mutter something about “les enfants sont en vacances”.
We touched back down Sunday afternoon and (after running the washing machine multiple times) walked over to the 7th arrondissement for Noglu’s hotdog and sundae party as I couldn’t bear missing out on matcha soft serve with tiny gf croissants on top. The children were completely confused by the concept of a hot dog, eventually rejecting them completely (more for me) but the ice-cream worked it’s magic and the outing did us all good after a long travel day.
We headed over to the ménagerie in the Jardin des Plantes to see the wallabies, snakes and tarantulas (the kids are very into old videos of the Crocodile Hunter at the moment, my little Aussies), had our gouté in front of the leopards and watched a fluffy grey baby flamingo trying to balance on one little leg. The chouette à lunettes (owl with glasses) was the biggest hit because the kids loved the name but the baby mountain goats were a close second.
The long evenings mean we’ve had time to take family strolls around the Jardin du Luxembourg with Noisette in tow (she loves the walk, hates the bath after her low tummy sweeps up nests of leaves). As we pass the far corner where the conservatory orchard is I wonder each night if this is the year I finally sign up for the free gardening classes run by the Sénat… does anyone want to do it with me?
With the Seine accessible again after the opening ceremony my friend Sonja and I went for a huge walk along it’s banks in the late evening sunshine, feeling happy amongst everyone else out and about enjoying themselves. She’s recently back from an artist’s residency in Spain and it was such a treat hearing all about what it’s actually like (not just waking up whenever and doing a little art here and there apparently) until eventually the sun set and we headed home, my friendship cup a little fuller.
The local market was quieter than usual but there was still a ridiculous queue for croissants at Maison Isabelle and we managed to round up a decent selection of produce for the week. The farmer held me back on strawberries, warning me they had to be eaten same day and that 2 punnets was probably enough, so I made up for it with bags of fresh tomatoes, herbs, lemons and stone fruit, trundling a full trolley home.
As we woke to the dulcet tones of a jackhammer outside on Sunday morning we knew it was best to get out for the day so decided on a picnic in Versailles. A few quick stops on the train and we passed by the chateau into the centre of town, stopping at the Sunday market along the way for provisions (excellent quesadillas for me, sandwiches for the rest). We circled around via fields of beautiful horses until we reached the Grand Canal where we settled in to eat, in the company of splashing giant carp and rather direct swans also ready for lunch.
After a little persuasion my family agreed to don lifejackets and go for a spin in the rowboats so we piled in and pushed away from shore, adding to the comedy sketch of tourists rowing in circles with no clue whatsoever. The kids went on strike on the way home which was fair as we’d talked plenty about the revolution and French values along the way, but an extra packet of biscuits secured a renegotiated contract and eventually we all made it home for naps.
Have a great week,
- Emily
Cheese we’re eating this week:
Hollumi - a ‘squeeky’, salty cheese from Cyprus made with a mix of goat and sheep milk, perfect for grilling and adding to salads.
Morbier - a cow’s milk cheese with a distinctive layer of ash separating it horizontally in the middle, which separates the layer made with morning milk and the layer made with evening milk.
Mimolette - a hard cow's milk cheese that was produced by defiant French subjects in response to the banning of products from Holland in the 17th century.
All three cheeses were bought at Marché Maubert.
Buttered toast with Anchovies
I found my dream gf bread in Italy (I brought home 6 packets - it’s good til 2025 🤣) and immediately made this with it, again and again and again. You can also make it in the toaster and spread the bread with butter instead of pan frying it in oil.
Sliced white bread
Olive oil
Anchovies
Pan fry the bread in a generous drizzle of olive oil until it’s beautifully browned on both sides. Cut into 2cm fingers.
Lay an anchovy out flat on each slice.
Bon appétit!
Real Life Paris Photo
The only Olympics I caught but impressive all the same.
Do the 2 layers in Morbier taste different?
juilletiste 🙋♀️