We checked out of Colmar and grabbed the train to Paris. Before we left Colmar, we stopped at a French bagel chain restaurant called Bagelstein’s. Before my bagel-eating friends book tickets to France, let me warn you: These are not real bagels. These are bagel-shaped dinner rolls. They are not boiled. If you want the real deal, stay on the North American continent. Julian got a smoked salmon sandwich, while I got a pastrami sandwich. Another difference between Bagelstein’s and American Jewish delis: the meat portions are more reasonable, demonstrating the concept of assez.
We’re renting an apartment near the Rue Cler, not far from the Eiffel Tower. The last time we were in Paris, Rue Cler was clogged with American tourists carrying their blue Rick Steves travel guides. Given that it’s mid-December, we may have fewer fellow Americans in the neighborhood. We walked around the corner to a restaurant called Brasserie PTT for dinner in the rain. I had salad Auvergne with beef cheek pot roast, Julian had a black eyed pea and sardine salad with a duck dish. The dinners were quite reasonably priced by Paris standards. The Brasserie seemed to be a neighborhood joint. Julian was greeted by one of the regulars, a pudgy Pug named Henri.
More news to come.
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