Day 8: The Pig and the Cow

The verdict is in. Rome wins with the pig. They know how to cure pork. From pancetta, to porchetta, to bacon, and prosciutto. I could have cured meats on everything, all day. The bacon was unlike anything I've ever had in the US. The best bacon was in a carbonara dish we had on the first day in a tiny place called Cacio e Pepe. I wanted pork on everything: bacon on my eggplant pie, prosciutto on a sandwich, on pizza, over veal.

Paris knows all things cow. The milk is fresh, dense, and rich. The cheese is creamy. The beef carpaccio is refreshing and tender. I've had lovely meals in both countries but I believe my favorite food was in Rome. I'm a salty and savory gal so Rome's food was perfect for me. However, I really need to return to Paris so I can still eat cassoulet, escargot, duck l'orange, and somewhere on this continent I will eventually have horse meat. I haven't found it yet and was looking forward to tasting it. The rumors are true about Paris: the croissants are out of this world. Since this is just about the only pastry I like, this is a happy fit.

After downing some croissants, cheese, and salami for breakfast, we visited the Musee d'Orsay mid-morning. For a Saturday the crowd wasn't bad at all. We may have only spent an hour in the museum, but I was pleased to see the famed works of Cezanne, Manet, Monet, Renoir, Toulousse-Lautrec, Van Gogh, and Degas. The museum itself is a beautiful piece of architecture occupying a former train station, and from the top floor we could see across the Siene to Montmarte and Sacre Couer. We didn't have enough time visit this area, it's on the list for next time. There is a lot we missed (and that I didn't eat) so coming back in the beautiful springtime would be a proper forgiveness for this cold weather. The last stop before returning to the hotel was at the Arc de Triumph. It is a massive monument, including the tomb of the unknown soldier which was installed at the end of WWI.

Per tradition, we had a spectacular final meal. This time we were fortunate to get reservations (made well in advance) at the #19 restaurant in the world, 2 Michelin star L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon. The restaurant is set up more like a sushi bar where diners sit on bar-height chairs along a counter that wraps around the open kitchen. From behind the bar the wait and bus staff work together for dinner service. Diners side side-by-side. We could see the chefs in the kitchen working with speed and efficiency. Between the bar and the kitchen is an open counter on which was a large Iberico ham leg, hoof and all. I ordered this jambon and it was practically paper thin. Salty, flavorful, naturally greased, and served with a side of crostini with diced tomato, olive oil, and herbs. I walked to grab the ham leg, tuck it under my arm, and make a beeline for the front door, figuring out later how to stuff it in my suitcase.

For dinner I opted for the special, the Dover sole with butter and parsley, and a side of the world-famous mashed potatoes. Honestly, I chose the sole "solely" because they came with the potatoes. I heard about these and couldn't leave without tasting them. Carrie wanted the spaghetti with black truffles, but when they told her it was €100 she asked them for another suggestion, which was the ribeye, rare. I had a piece of this and it was beyond perfect. As for my Dover sole, it was a full large fish which they filleted at the bar for me, served with a half of a lemon that had to the brightest yellow and juiciest lemon I have ever set eyes on. The fish lay in a lovely light butter with a mildly crispy topping and melted in my mouth. It was a lot of fish, but I ate is slowly just to savor it. Carrie also ordered the fois gras, which was good, but I far more enjoyed my Iberico ham.

About the mashed potatoes... It was as if they were filled with as much butter and cream as one could squeeze from one cow, then whipped into submission. Dense yet soft, rich, succulent. There has been no equal. After I cleaned my plate completely, and finished the potatoes, the waiter asked if I wanted more potatoes. Well, my fish was gone, but okay, sure! He brought 2 more bowls. Now Carrie isn't into potatoes. I ate my second bowl. Then I ate hers. Forget dessert, I didn't need it. Remember what I said about not having a sweet tooth? I considered the THIRD bowl of mashed potatoes my dessert. Don't judge, just be jealous.

A few other Americans, a Spaniard, and another French tourist were in there and at least half the crowd was taking pictures of each dish, including Carrie. I've never been into photographing my meals. I feel cheesy whipping out a camera in restaurant. I topped off dinner with a small espresso-like coffee. I was full, satisfied, pleased, yet not overstuffed.

I am ready to go home now. I am ready to BE home. A much as we did, it was still a very hard week between my illness and the frigid weather. I am tired of juggling bags, cameras, coats, gloves, hats, scarves, and maps. I am tired of being outside. I am tired of walking. I want to come back and relax and eat, maybe stroll, when it's warmer. But right now, I miss friends back home and I miss my cat Jude. Can't wait to just be home, order a pizza, some Coke, and watch Sunday night TV with the cat curled up next to me then my very large, warm, comfortable bed and Ambien for the jet lag. Realizing I have to work immediately the next day might be a little rough, but I miss my home and my life across the pond.