You Can Burp In Peace

photo, cheese, fromagerie, marche daguerre On Daguerre, cheese first after the métro.

Stinky Food Time Again

by Ric Erickson

Paris:– Saturday, 14. October–  After a long pause it is stinky food time again. Instead of going to the Luxembourg to sniff the plants I strolled down Rue Daguerre to take a look at the folks getting their daily necessities. They could go to the Monoprix like most of us poor people – anybody can shop there – but since they have a bit more jingle in their designer jeans, not all purchased at Tati – they can skip the cheap – say, "populaire" – butchers at the beginning and grab some cheese.

You never know. They might be weak and needy and they say a shot of stinky cheese is a power pickup. Thus fortified they have a choice of getting fruit and veg or fish. All the fruit has high–end prices for so–so, depending on the season – who's on strike – so maybe fish is a better bet. If it lives in water the fish place has it. No seals of course, on account of the fur crazies.

photo, mushrooms, fruit and veg, marche daguerre Goodies from deep in the forests.

Monday night's TV–news will say that fish has become a lot more expensive. Think about it. Nobody feeds the fish but everything about them is more expensive. Gas costs a fortune and the EC sets quotas, which means less, fewer fish, so the market says "pay more!"

What the darn hell! So with a couple of kilos of sardines then you might as well get the fruit and veg. Grapes and wild mushrooms are in season. Some of them look terrible. Don't look if you eat them. Not expensive if you consider that most were found free in the forests and under bridges, snatched from the greedy clutches of trolls, by average civilians who augment their pitiful pensions by gathering mushrooms and – what's that real pricey stuff? – ah, truffles!– like Little Bo–Peep. These are folks with second homes in Rio.

photo, wine shop, nicolas, marche daguerre The drink part of the food.

Then there's a Greek joint. Greeks are all over the world selling olives, that I think must come from Spain. The only reason I don't shop there is because olives in the Monoprix are often on sale and still not worth it – probably Greek olives after all – and it's next door to the Chope, a café I was in once in 1999. A lot of people like the Chope once, but nobody I know.

There's another little supermarket, named Franprix. I lived out in a suburb and a local Franprix was the only place around. I did it for eight years and that's enough for a lifetime. Somebody else can have my place there.

People come from all over Paris to eat at the Enfer but I've never been in it, not even in 1999. There's probably nothing wrong with it if you don't mind sitting on small chairs and tables that are very close together. Body heat is probably welcome in winter.


I have always meant to try the red–meat butcher. Just as soon as my craving for raw meat returns, if it is the same time as I have something to cook it with. Otherwise I can get a hot chicken full of water, anytime, for six euros. Actually there's two Chicken Heinz places. One is the horse meat butcher and the other is a Asian guy who specializes. He has roast potatoes too. Cool people get the chickens instead of pizza.

photo, shrimp, moules, clams Shrimp, moules and clams, I think.

There are several places to get drink. Peret, Nicolas and th yellow place that reminds me of Spain. Any one is better than taking a chance at Monoprix, unless it is the time of wine sales and you know your stuff, which I don't anymore. Peret has good café. Some say it is the best on the street, maybe the best for several streets around, if you don't feel like walking all the way to the Comédia two blocks away. It costs the same in both places, the same as it costs in all the places in town with bad coffee. It's democratic.


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