Day Trippin’ to Paris

After a painful 4am wake up call, my mate and I excitedly boarded the 6.55am Eurostar and two and a bit hours later, hopped off at La Gare du Nord, slightly bleary eyed and in need of coffee and a map. This being a day trip and all, we squared full up to the challenge of fitting in as much as possible and so one caffeine injection and a couple of wrong turns later, headed off in the direction of the Eiffel Tower – we would nip up and see what all the fuss is about while working up an appetite for lunch in the process.
I already knew I wasn’t a huge fan of heights but seriously, I had no idea I would suffer the full on nauseating confusion of vertigo. At first I thought it might be my lack of fitness making me feel sick as a dog as we hiked up to the first viewing platform but as my knees started to tremble and dizziness went from nagging to overwhelming I guessed something might be awry. We panted and huffed it to the second floor where they wanted more money to go right to the top – a downright cheek. I can’t say I was disappointed when we decided they could stick their view. We got the lift back to sweet, sweet ground level and decided to hunt down some lunch at Le Repaire de Cartouche.
　　At the end of lunch, the bistro was still bustling. The space is small in a cosy way with lunching diners crammed in upstairs and a formal dining space visible down a narrow wooden staircase. The crowd was reassuringly lacking in tourists. We seemed to attract some attention from the locals inside what with our pathetic broken French and our cameras (the close quarters made any attempt at discretion completely pointless) but we ploughed on and ordered a bottle of rosé and whatever we could decipher from the (14 euro) lunch menu and our stilted interaction with the waiter.
I chose the terrine de campagne which arrived in a good hefty slab atop a well dressed herb salad. The terrine had a satisfying coarse texture, a good porky hit, generous seasoning and a melty layer of fat on top. I spread it on the toast in obscenely huge wadges with forkfuls of the salad which, being heavy on the tarragon, complimented the meat perfectly.
Hardcore carnivore that I am, I ordered steak haché and green beans to follow. The flavour of the beef was good, although not amazing but my main grumble was that it was over-cooked. The waiter hadn’t asked how I wanted it but to be honest, I can’t blame him, our French is awful. We did notice however that the same dish at the next table was gloriously pink and we speculated whether they had assumed the poor English girls might be scared by the sight of raw meat, bless ‘em. This may well be an unfair assumption on our part. The fact that the whole thing was doused in an immodest amount of butter helped take my mind off the problem somewhat.
Overall, the meal was simple, rustic, delicious and cheap. Le Repaire de Cartouche got our stamp of approval and we headed out with smiley faces to walk off the pork fat and booze fug. A look at the Pompidou, a cheeky Leffe and a stroll down the banks of the Seine to the Louvre later and we were running fast out of time. We managed to squeeze in a glimpse of the Champs Elysees too before a short (and brilliantly efficient and easy to navigate) Metro ride towards our next food destination, a wine bar called Racines, recommended by Time Out.
Alas, the trip was a wild goose chase as the bar has closed down. Somewhat despondent and incredibly fatigued we skulked over to a nearby bar to be day light robbed of 8 euros each for a pint. Sometimes the ‘go with the flow’ approach kicks you in the backside. Heading back towards the station a sudden wave of desperation to cram in another meal took hold and we ducked into a nearby pharmacy to ask some local gals if they knew anywhere nearby. They pointed us in the direction of a bistro round the corner of which, amazingly, we never checked the name. As Lizzie says in her write up, “it’s opposite a pharmacy around the corner from a wedding dress shop by Le Gare du Nord,” if that helps.
I started with a salad of boquerones. I adore anchovies and these were silky soft and delicately herby. The salad itself, although threatening to teeter the wrong side of generously dressed, was fragrant with herbs and the beans had soaked up all the salty juices. A welcome light starter after so much meat and beer.
My main course, the mullet with remoulade, was equally delicious; the remoulade light, not at all gloopy with a subtle yet confident kick of wholegrain mustard. A crispy skinned, flaky fillet of mullet on top and I was a happy lady, albeit a happy lady with indigestion as we wolfed down the lot plus beers in 30 minutes and darted for the last train home.
I think you’ll agree we crammed a huge amount in and although truly knackered at the end of it, I am now a full convert to the idea of day tripping to Europe, particularly with this Leisure Select Class deal – champagne on the journey home is incredibly effective at soothing weary feet. If you want to do a city ‘properly’, you undoubtedly need to stay there, but for a kick ass change of scenery? Do it. You get out what you put in basically. I’ve done Lille, I’ve done Paris and next I’m going to get me a big steaming bowl of mussels in Brussels.