Tea For Two In Paris
Introducing my little girl to the gustatory delights of the world's greatest city
Tonight I watched the 2014 movie Chef with my daughter Nora. It’s a sweet movie in which Jon Favreau plays Carl, a high-rolling L.A. chef who burns out, and who rebuilds his career by starting a food truck in Miami. He and his sous-chef (John Leguizamo) drive across the country back to L.A. with Carl’s young son, Percy (Emjay Anthony), healing their father-son breach one Cubano sandwich at a time.
Nora is 14, and loves to bake bread and pastries. She became seriously good at it over Covidtide. Me, I like to cook, but not bake, so we have never really been able to share the kitchen together. Still, watching the movie made me think about the most special time we had together around food.
It was at the end of October, in 2012. I had a good advance for The Little Way of Ruthie Leming, the memoir I wrote about the life and death of my younger sister, and decided to splurge by taking my wife and kids to Paris for the entire month. We rented an apartment near the Panthéon, and spent four glorious weeks rambling around my favorite city. Here’s a photo of Nora, then six, and me celebrating our arrival in the city with a taste of apple cidre from Normandy (please forgive me for altering the photo a bit, but I don’t like images of my children’s faces circulating on the Internet):
Our apartment was small but lovely, overlooking the rear of L’Eglise Saint-Jacques du Haut Pas.
Julie and I chose this apartment because it was close to the Luxembourg Gardens. Here’s Nora and me after gallivanting there.
I’m telling you, Paris in October is very heaven. My little girl was très chic everywhere she went. Here she is outside of the Pompidou Center:
In Montmartre:
Shopping for postcards on the Boulevard St-Michel, near our flat:
But she was also silly too. Here she is in a bookstore:
Nora, her mom, her two brothers, and I ate lots of crêpes with powdered sugar, drank cups and cups of cidre, and tried all kinds of delicious things. Like chocolat chaud at Angelina:
Ice cream at Berthillon on the Ile St-Louis:
Macarons at Ladurée:
But the best thing of all was going to the Mariage Frères tea salon in the Latin Quarter for a father-daughter tea. Nora learned to drink tea in Paris, and she fell in love the Mariage Frères, which really does sell the best tea in the world. On one of our last days in Paris, my daughter made a proposal. This is exactly how the dialogue went; I wrote about it on the same day.
“Daddy,” said Nora, “I think we should go to tea at Mariage Frères. Just you and me.”
Done.
I ordered for us a pot of Rouge d’Automne, and for Mademoiselle, a large chocolate macaron and a madeleine.
I loved those times alone with her, because she and I would talk in ways she didn’t when around her brothers.
“Daddy, I really love Lucas,” she said, of her brother.
“What do you love about him?”
“I love how he likes to play games with me, and he knows just how to do it. But when he gets sad, he gets really sad.”
“Yes, that’s his temperament.”
“It is. Everybody has their own talents and their own skills.”
“What’s your talent?”
“I can make air come out my eyes. But one of my friends told me that everybody can do that.”
We put milk and sugar in our tea, and felt all grown up in the fancy tea room.
“Would you like some of my madeleine, Daddy?”
“No, Baby Girl, it’s all for you.”
“Well, I don’t think I can finish it. That was a big macaron.”
“OK, I’ll finish it for you.”
After we paid and were descending the stairs to the shop down below, Nora said, “I think we should visit the Tea Museum in the basement. So we did.
We went back upstairs, bought some tea leaves for friends back home, put our coats back on, and walked back towards home, hand in hand.
“Daddy, you know what? You and I haven’t done enough shopping for clothes for me.”
Oh no. There she goes.
“Well, Mom took you shopping a lot. I know she bought some things.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t the same as shopping with you. You always know what I like. You always bring home the best presents.”
I made a note to myself: when Nora turns 16, and you bring her back to Paris, leave the credit card home with her Mom, because you’ll buy this one whatever she wants. But not today.
We crossed the Boulevard Saint-Germain, then wound our way through the Latin Quarter, up the hill, holding hands.
“Daddy, did you know that even bad people, no matter how evil they are, they have a little spark of goodness in them, and God tries His best to make that grow into a big flame?”
“Yes, that’s true, Baby Girl.”
“So no matter how bad you are, you could be good.”
“You’re right about that.”
“It’s like you could sit at the right hand of the Father.”
“Yes, baby.”
“And if somebody dies, it’s not God’s fault. He didn’t want them to get sick. It’s just the cycle of life. God didn’t want Aunt Ruthie to die. It was just her time.”
Pause.
“How old are you, Daddy?”
Nora and I have been devotees of Mariage Frères tea ever since. I never go to Paris without bringing some home for her. Fortunately, you can mail order it here in the US. The Cultured Cup in Dallas has a great selection, but I ordered this winter’s teas from Market Hall Foods, because they not only had the Esprit de Noël cinnamony blend, but also Mariage Frères robust and peppery version of chai. Believe me, there are few pleasures as cozy and cherished by me than sitting by the fire drinking a steaming cup of one of these teas, and reading silently with Nora.
