PARIS - Day 7

We slept in today and had a leisurely breakfast of bread and pastries. We planned our morning around our lunch reservation at Christophe Restaurant. We finally set out on foot to locate the restaurant to avoid previous stressful experiences. It was located behind the Pantheon and was unremarkable in its exterior. We then wandered the back streets of the western Latin Quarter and found gorgeous alleys and markets in full swing. We had no idea the area existed and were happily surprised by our find. Locals lined up to by fresh fish and vegetables from markets that were set at the junction of the lanes and alleys. The smells of freshly cooked chicken filled the air and the cafes were full. If we did not already have plans, we would have happily enjoyed our lunch here. As the time approached, we made our way to Christophe but it was still closed. Without our knowledge, France had slipped into its daylight saving phase the night before and we were any hour early. This only strengthened our appetites and increased our expectations. We finally arrived and were seated in the tiny restaurant. We counted only 19 seats and were the first to arrive. The décor looked plain and sparse and reminiscent of certain Beaumont Street eateries that have come and gone. The owner was a bald gruff man with his own distinct body odour. We were not fazed, it was obviously caused by his hard toil in the kitchen. We ordered from the set menu and waited for our dishes to arrive. We sipped our delicious organic cote de Rhône and prepared our palates with high expectation. Entre arrived and was greeted eagerly.  My pastry covered pork belly rissole was fine if somewhat bland. Karin’s smoked salmon was simple but good. The kids chewed on bread while awaiting main course. We ordered sausages and garlic mash for the kids, with veal for me and pureed Cod for Karin. We asked the owner if we would like the sausages and he said ‘oui, tres bon’! Our meals arrived first with the sausages to follow. Again, our food was very simple but well cooked.  And then the pièce de résistance. The sausages arrived before they hit the table. The aroma was dense and pungent and my immediate reaction was someone had stepped in shit. It was unmistakably human and was like being hit in the face with a bat. It was impenetrable and created a wall of olfactory pain around the table.  I swapped my veal with Stella and bravely cut into the log. To compound the situation, it actually looked like a well-seasoned turd. It took more effort than I had envisaged as the rubbery contents were only partially cooked. It quickly became apparent that this was no ordinary sausage. A later review on the internet explained the situation. The (in)famous Andouillette Sausage is sourced from a pig’s colon. The review from the UK Times said the sausage is; “an acquired taste and can be an interesting challenge even for adventurous eaters who don’t object to the taste or aroma of faeces”. Being an eater who does object to the aroma of faeces, with no memory of ever tasting it, I was not obviously up to the challenge, As a write this, I continue to experience the gurge reflex I repelled at lunchtime. While I hitherto considered myself an ’adventurous eater’, I have now been humbled into submission and look forward to the bland stodge of eastern Europe to regain my equilibrium. Good-bye Paris, you win this round.