After our usual breakfast...
We took the train out to a suburb to the
Basilica of Saint Denis. We weren't crazy about the neighborhood - a lot of street vendors selling cheap plastic goods, but the visit was worth the trip.
As we approached it, we thought it was strange that such an historic cathedral, dedicated to a patron saint of France, would be surrounded by modern, utilitarian ugliness, such as this weird plastic cone:
And the grotesque glass and cement building behind the creepy, lonely carousel:
The inside of the cathedral was striking, lit in sections with blue light:
The most interesting part, for us, was the crypt - a royal necropolis like Westminster Abbey. Here's a map:
The tombs were fascinating, with so many little details.
M spent some time with Marie Antoinette.
Also quite striking was the exhibit of photographs taken of some of the tombs:
After we finished exploring, we headed back to Paris - it was late lunchtime and we were starving! We made our way to
Le Relais de l'Entrecôte on Rue Saint-Benoît. It was on our list of restaurants to check out, but we couldn't remember why. There was a bit of a line, but we waited.
Once inside, we were seated in the crowded dining room along a mirrored banquette. It smelled great. Our waitress, dressed in a black dress and frilly white apron, brusquely asked us something in French. We thought she was taking our drink order. We asked for the wine list. She handed it to us and we quickly chose the house red. She repeated her question, but this time it was in slow, yet impatient English:
"How do you want your steak cooked?"
"Um, medium-rare?"
"Non [BIG SIGH] - à point, saignant, ou bleu."
If we'd been prepared, we would have remembered/realized this:
Menu? What menu? One question: how do you like your steak prepared?
No menus will be handed to you when you’re seated. Your waitress in her classic black dress and white apron will rattle off some incomprehensibly fast French as she places a plate of baguette slices on your table. She is asking how you’d like your meat cooked. That’s all you need to know when dining at Le Relais because they only serve one dish: steak-frites. Simply inform her bien cuit (well done), à point (medium), saignant (rare) or bleu (nearly raw) and she will write your orders on your paper table liner.
From
here. I asked for mine saignant and I think M asked for à point. We still hadn't quite grasped that by saying these things, we'd ordered our lunch. As we looked around, we saw that everyone had the same things in front of them.
Simple salads tossed with a tangy mustard vinaigrette and topped with walnuts and perfect, chewy bread:
(Note the handwritten scribble in the upper right corner. That's our order.)
The house wine is a bit chilled and quite tasty:
The salad is followed by sliced steak with an indescribably delectable sauce and hot, crispy frites:
We happily emptied our plates. Then a magical, magical thing happened - just as we were saying how good it all was, and that even though we were satisfied, we wished we could have just a little bit more.... our waitress came over, silently took our plates, and returned them with the SECOND HALF OF OUR LUNCH! That's right. The portion of steak and frites is split in half, so the second half is kept warm for you. Magic!
The place was full of all kinds of people - tourists, young families, business-lunchers, solo diners. Next to us was possibly the rudest man on the planet. He refused to speak to, or look at, our waitress. He ignored her queries, demanded wine, and was cringe-inducingly brusque with our brusque waitress. Thankfully, when his son got there, he demanded a different table.
We waddled out of there - our heads still spinning with the delicious simplicity of our lunch. Our next plan was to make our way over to the Eiffel Tower, since we had a reservation to go up to the top at 4:30.
Perhaps that's enough to digest (sorry) for now. Stay tuned for the Eiffel Tower.
