How much is that doggie in the window…

Following a grand yet wearisome trek to find my hotel, I discovered my eagerness to freshen up would be postponed for my room was not quite ready. After a quick brush of my teeth I left my bags in the charming hotel lobby to seek out Charles. Introduced through my good friend Nancy, Charles met me at his favorite market in Paris, luckily only a short walk from my place. We perused the market, visiting his favorite cheese vendors. Surprisingly I was quite familiar with many of the beautiful dairy treasures. I love the weight Europeans put on the food industry, from salaried barista's to the cheese shop employees.

The fellow pictured {well his apron is pictured} attended a year long cheese school. After visiting this cheese heaven we went to yet another where I was only even more in awe. With *Raclette for six with some Morbier to join we left quite brimming with excitement. {*Note for those who are not familiar with Raclette, it is both a cheese as well as a dish. Coming from the french word ‘racler’ meaning scrape, one places said cheese in front of an open fire or heat source thus melting the cheese. Once there is a decent gooey layer it is then scraped onto a plate, over veggies or meats, or directly into ones mouth. Jokes, I am sure you would suffer a rather burnt tongue. I sold quite the lot of Raclette during my time as a Cheesemonger yet only just had my first ever traditional Raclette the other night here in Paris. That being said I am sure I will circle back to Raclette in a later post. If interested in Morbier check out my La Jeune Autise post} 

After an Espresso and quick chat over politics we caught the subway for Charles wanted to take me to a flea market. I was unsure of the nature of this market and why he seemed so eager to take me, but I followed in wonder as we embarked through the 18th ARR. Nearly jogging we barely made lunch at a favorite spot of Charles’. A quaint brick restaurant, with the chairs half on top of the tables, we quickly consumed couscous and legumes talking of politics again, food, films, and the decrease in tourism since the attacks in Paris. The market consisted of winding routes past antique cabinets, leather chairs, a taxidermy zebra head, clothing and shoes from the early 1900’s, Art Deco decorations, paintings, headless dolls, shops full of silver cutlery, china sets set on china sets, a whole shop devoted to my favorite: light fixtures, it was extensive and captivating. I could have walked around and touched things all day. I rather felt like this pup {pictured at top} in the window, attentively observing the passing world around me taking it in bit by bit. 


I cannot let yesterday pass without noting The Bon Marche’s food market. 'Twas the Nordstrom of food stores. The Dior. The Jimmy Choo. Amongst the cheeses, charcuterie, 20 types of apples, there was water. Water? Yes, Water. What I assumed the free standing wall of shelves was vodka…I stand corrected. The beautifully lit towering shelf showcased water. I am now aware of the fact, for Charles’ informed me, that one can greatly tell the difference between Spanish, Argentinian, and Fiji water. I guess I could have gathered that would be the case, but oh my how much more involved it is than I have ever thought of before. I spotted VOSS, which is the water my boyfriend occasionally purchases for me, which always makes me feel like a princess. So there you go I guess that is it right there. Water, like any other food or drink, has the capability to make one feel special, thought of, take them to a new place or an old one filled with precious memories.