The Last Parisian Supper

Even though lunch at Aux Lyonnais was technically our last meal in France, we employed an old trick of buying dinner in Paris and taking it back to London. A plan somewhat complicated when our dinner companion indicated that she was trying to avoid wheat... What is France if not bread and quiche? Especially if you're avoiding charcuterie and cheese (grr)

Serendipitously my quest for maternity clothes in the 19th arrondisement led us to a delightful pedestrian mall of food shops on Rue de Levis. The strawberries and cherries looked divine so we grabbed masses of yummy summer fruit.

We had also been drooling over the prepared dishes on offer in the French delicatessan, so we loaded up on some yummy looking meatballs, a beautiful looking gratin and a tasty eggplant dish. Not the most convenient things to transport on the metro back to the Eurostar, but well worth the effort.

Unable to completely ignore our boulangerie urges, we stopped in and bought some baguettes, eclairs and slices of quiche.

Suddenly time was of the essence. For a moment it looked like we might be done for, when Le Gourmand's last metro ticket would not work and we had spent our last Euro at the boulangerie. Le Gourmand does not like to be late for planes or international flights so he was not happy but luckily we made it to Gare du Nord with (a little) time to spare, dinner in hand.

Such a delightful way to finish a trip to Paris, we gorged on the food later that night, cognisant that in Australia we wouldn't have been allowed to carry half of this food between Sydney and Melbourne, let alone Sydney and Auckland, thanks to our customs restrictions.

Pour Le Gourmand. I had left him in the fromagerie unsupervised with the instruction to buy some hard cheeses. He had managed to explain using gestures that he was buying cheese for a pregnant woman. The fromagère apparently understood but sold him a soft cheese. I am assuming it was pasteurised but was unwilling to trust the language barrier (plus debate rages as to whether pasteurisation is sufficient to avoid listeria in soft cheeses) so while the others finished their meal with what they assured me was a delectable brie (or camembert? noone was sure), I ate some macaroons contributed by our hostess. Bruce will have to try French cheese another time.

La Belle Paris

Going to France when you're pregnant and love to eat French food can be a somewhat cruel opportunity. The red wine, brie and charcuterie are suddenly off limits. Even if there was a point to eating steak bien cuit, would any self respecting french chef deign to prepare it in such a way? However this was likely to be our last opportunity for a decadent few days in our favourite country (gastronomically speaking) so I booked our favourite hotel and the Eurostar tickets as a present for Le Gourmand with barely a second thought. I could still eat quiche and pain au chocolat after all.
Le Gourmand was delighted when he received the gift in April. However he advised me with some seriousness that as the trip would be brief, that we would need to plan our meals with precision. I tended to agree. We both remembered a merely OK meal in a touristy restaurant on our last trip and a morning spent aimlessly hunting for crepes on our last trip to Paris. Spontaneity, which had served us so well on previous occasions, had to be sacrificed when time would allow for only one dinner and two lunches. Research was done and reservations were made. On the Eurostar early Tuesday morning we discussed the plan of attack - early lunch and late dinner so that three courses could be consumed at each sitting. Concern was raised and noted that my stomach, a stalwart in the past, was reacting suspiciously to pregnancy and did not seem to be able to consume as much as it had in my gluttonous past. I determined to soldier on!