So ... the weather has turned foul but certainly not our moods.
Last night Brittany and I went to a Gregorian Chant concert in Notre Dame. Indeed, it was hard not to well up when the angels opened their voices. The nave seemed to vibrate with an ancient holiness. I was transported back in time and couldn't keep myself from imagining the monks from centuries ago wandering the arched halls.
After all that "goodness" we needed to balance ourselves and so on our walk home stopped at our little cafe the St. Regis and enjoyed some white beer with lemon (okay lots of it). Our favorite waitstaff Jean Pierre and Stephanie took good care of us -- even providing us with leftover bread and a drink on the house. We laughed heartily with our bubbly Jean Pierre (even though his English is as awful as our French) and Stephanie suggested we consider a house/apartment swap sometime this summer. I think we managed to get home before 2.
Today -- the rain fell hard and cold. But we made it to two very important foodie stops. Our first was here. This place rocks (yes a poor joke to include the note that this is Lenny Kravitz's favorite falafel place). We ordered a Falafel Special and a Schawarma. The wind whipped up and the rain came down and we happily sat on a bench and woofed these two mountainous pita pockets of goodness. We hear the place is just jammed on Sunday afternoons.
After an afternoon of rest and drying off, we headed back to the Marais to satisfy our crepe adventure. We aren't talking nutella street crepes here -- we are talking buckwheat galettes filled with anything from salmon, egg, cheese and cream fraiche to well just about anything delicious you can imagine. We went with a traditional Breton (cheese, mushrooms, bacon, egg, butter in a buckwheat crepe) -- like heaven wrapped in a blanket. We followed up with 2 sweet crepes from the blackboard crepes of the day -- filled with a drizzle of chestnut sauce, a scoop of chestnut ice-cream and creme fraiche. Oh and another filled with caramel, vanilla ice-cream, apples sauteed in butter and creme fraiche. The chestnut crepe was worth the 3300 miles alone. The name of the place is Cafe Breizh -- reservations recommended though we were lucky enough to grab a last minute seat on the high stools in the front of the restaurant and watched more than a few folks without reservations get turned away.
My camera is not being nice today and I am not getting any photos uploaded so a web photo will have to do for now. Our days are becoming numbered and I'm starting to get anxious....