Cafe life in Paris is a huge part of the social scene of the city. It's the place where people come together. You go to meet others and chat, to sit and people watch, or to read, write, or work on your computer. You can sit just long enough to down your little shot of coffee or can stay all day and linger over a glass of wine.
Cafe Nemrod is my new local cafe. I sat down and had a drink the other day as I waited for my laundry to twist and turn in the machine at the laundromat. I picked this place mainly because of it's proximity to my apartment and the laundromat, but also because I loved the name. I pronounce it as nimrod, which is what I feel like most of the time here. (I've decided to pretend I'm mute, and just point to things instead of speaking. I'd even thought about getting little cards made that says, "Je suis muet," but decided against it). So, Nimrod, I mean Nemrod (probably pronounced something like Nehm-row) is my new hangout. I can sit, eat and/or drink, and watch Paris go by.
Today, I went to Cafe Nimrod (oops) Nemrod for lunch. And, the waiter happily spoke to me in English. Some might be offended, but long ago, I came to the realization that I must have "American" stamped all over me. I'm tall, not petite, smile too much (I guess), and whatever else makes me look so American (a waiter in Italy said it was my face that gave it away, but couldn't explain exactly what about my face it was). I try to blend in; wear a lot of black with my tres chic scarf, a different one to match my the color of my shirt, and wear European-looking shoes, but for the most part, everyone knows I'm "etrange" (meaning both strange and a foreigner......hum). The waiter was actually friendly, joked with me, and even gave me a menu in English, without huffing and puffing as he handed it to me. When I asked about the plat du jour (plate of the day), he told me it was on the chalkboard but only written in French. I explained I can read and understand French but just speak it horribly. He seemed happy to hear this and then started speaking French to me, and was completely fine with my responses in English and bad French. It's rare to find a friendly, even joking, waiter in Paris. They all seem so serious and uptight, but this guy wasn't; he was fun.
The plat du jour was steak and gratin dauphinois (aka scalloped potatoes). Each layer of potatoes was surrounded by a layer of thick rich cream and it had a crusty, cruncy top. It was a lot of food and rustic, not the haute cuisine of the famous 3-starred Michelin restaurants of Paris, with dishes that are plated like art pieces, but it was good and well-priced. There were three plats du jour for the day ranging from 17 to 18 euros each. Their salads were 10 to 12 euros each. After my lunch, I sat back and enjoyed an afternoon at the cafe.
Nemrod (on the corner of rue du Cherche-Midi and rue Saint Placide in the 6th arrondissement) is actually a brasserie; it serves food---lunch from Noon to 2:00 and dinner in the evening, usually starting after 7pm. Between the meal times, it turns into a place you can go to have a drink and sit. There are many of these cafes/brasseries all over Paris. Sometimes I go to meet a friend, sometimes to rest my blistered fee, and sometimes I go just to people watch. The best way to pick one is to choose one with a view you like and where you hear more French spoken than any other language.
.jpg)
Cafe life seems so romantic. A nice place to people watch and see the joy on the faces of those who love being in Paris. Your blogs are so descriptive and enjoyable to read. Keep up the good work. Jozee
Posted by: Jozee Pizzurro | May 10, 2009 at 12:04 AM