The Catacombs

On my last full day in Paris, LH and I tried again to go to the Catacombs. We met and got in the queue, and a mere two and one half hours later, we were at the entrance. 2.5 hours on line, in front of a group of Swedish tourists. SHEESH!

 The anticipation worked its magic - we were almost giddy to actually go in and get our tickets.
 

The Catacombs are part of the vast underground network of quarries and tunnels that range underneath most of Paris. What is special about this part, is that they took the remains of about 6 million humans and stacked them artistically along the walls of the tunnels. 

Why, you ask? Well, the graveyards of Paris had been gathering dead people for centuries....I mean, Christian churches had been burying their dead in the land adjacent for 10 centuries (until around the year 1000) before the population boomed and suddenly the putrefying bodies began to cause a major problem in terms of polluting the water and air. 700+ years later, they instituted a whole new plan for the dead of the future, and began removing the remains from the old cemeteries. Someone thought of artfully arranging the bones in this section of the quarries.

103 steps down into the depths....

The lighting was dim, and tunnels were long...we weren't sure at what point we would see actual bones and skulls, so the anticipation grew....around each bend we would gingerly peer to see the walls were rock, or human remains. Creepy!

We didn't need to worry - a doorway announced the entrance to the sensational part....

Stop! The empire of death is here...

Yes, it certainly is.

When we first encountered the skulls and femurs, we were a little jumpy and silly...but that wore off as we went past an enormous amount of human remains. 6 million people are down there, it is wild. The ultimate democratization of a populace...the people here were rich and poor, nobility and peasants, men and women, mean and nice, funny and grumpy, scholars and butchers and artists and sailors and maids and farmers and...well...you get the picture. Ultimately, our earthly selves all share the exact same fate.

The innocuous exit from the subterranean depths

 We headed up to St. Germain-des-Pres, once a hotbed of intellectuals, philosophers and artists, now a very active tourist mecca.

  Lunch at the famous Cafe de Flore, right across the street from Louis Vuitton.

Lovely LH. The guys right behind her got really drunk, and were flirting equally with the posh ladies sitting next to them, and the prostitutes who came by more than once.

I had to have a proper French omelette. I mean, I have watched Julia Child and Jacques Pepin make their wondrous omelettes, and I have never mastered the technique - I usually wind up with a yummy scramble, rather than an evenly cooked, properly folded omelette. Well, sorry to say that this omelette aux fine herbes was a disappointment. Flat, uneven, and the "fines herbes" was roughly cut parsley that was all clumped up in one spot.

LH's croque monsieur was tasty...

...and  the adorable little chocolates were a nice touch.

 Good food karma returned for my last meal in Paris. Right on my corner is an old-school bistrot, called La Grille. Chowhounds were back and forth on it....Souphie blasted it, but then posted a picture of the boeuf bourguignon that looked amazing. So, I rolled the dice, and was happy I did.

 
 First, they bring the "ardoise" to the table. along with a delectable little pot of pork rillettes.

I chose a dish I had been obsessing over, even if it did push my egg quota way over the USDR.  Oeufs Mayonnaise. Anthony Bourdain got this SO wrong in the No Reservations episode in Paris (the 100th episode, not the first). Someone (a well-respected chef, IIRC), mentioned this old school bistrot classis, and Bourdain deduced incorrectly that it was deviled eggs. Now, I love me some deviled eggs - hard cook the egg, mix the yolk with some Hellman's and Grey Poupon, dash of paprika. That has very little to do with this heavenly creation.

Hard cooked eggs, yes. Sliced in half, then covered by the lightest, lemony-est, frothiest mayonaise, made freshly in house. Topped with a sprinkle of fresh chives and parsley. Mache on the side, in a proper, proper, delicious vinaigrette. I loved this. This was a mayonnaise revelation for me.

The boeuf bourguignon was very good - hearty, robust, soul-satisfying. I mean, how could it not be, with giant lardons of bacon peeping out from the tender hunks of stewed beef? Yummy.