In the past 36 hours, we have visited every tier of French cuisine from boulangeries to street snacks to cafes to brasseries to haute cuisine. The experiences and takeaways have been surprising and at times emotional. Yesterday's brunch at a small cafe/creperie and tobacconist in the Latin Quarter was good for me (they made a nice galette), okay for Sennen (decent eggs) and terrible for Ailyn (runny, so-so omelette). Our afternoon snack - our French street food – at the Christmas Market in the Tuileries was a win for all with Nutella dipped churros, Nutella crepe and hot roasted chestnuts.
Our dinner was something I planned as a special New Year's treat – a six course prix fixe meal at a well reviewed, relatively new creative haute-cuisine restaurant – Comme Chai Toi. We had a 7pm seating that was expected to be done by 8:45 so they could accommodate a second New Year's seating. However, we were fortunate enough to not have a second seating for our table and the time to linger. We were also the only party with kids – this was a very grown-up experience for Sennen and Ailyn.
While they both seemed to enjoy the presentation and service – only Sennen joined me in enjoying all the courses. Ailyn found four out of six outside her liking – which in some cases suited Sennen just fine as he swooped in to nab her uneaten duck breast, for example. To be fair, there were certain courses that I could not only not describe or explain – like the amuse bouche that had some kind of clams, some kind of nuts and a bunch of other stuff. The difference between Ailyn's approach and Sennen and mine seemed to be that we were more apt to just go with whatever it was the chef came up with and enjoy the textures, flavors, colors and smells as a sensory experience. I absolutely would not order half of it if given an a la carte menu. But it the seafood tartare with sliced, roasted smoked celery running through it was interesting all the same. The creativity and elevation of food is one of the great art forms of France. At the same time, we don't all enjoy all kinds and every piece of art. I was very glad they had the experience and can say they went to a proper French restaurant.
Nonetheless, we enjoyed a wonderful dinner overlooking Notre Dame amid a relaxed, warm, glowing ambiance – a wonderful way to end the year.
Of course, when we left at 9:30, Ailyn who mostly clung to the amazing bread the restaurant offered – left hungry and so while we walked around, killing time until midnight, we wandered down a small street off the Place St Michel where Ailyn found many tantalizing options including gyros, crepes, pizza, kebabs and gelato. To my surprise, she settled on a chocolate milkshake from a gelateria.
Our tour de food continued this morning when we turned to the only open – but excellent all the same – Boulangerie down the street for pains au chocolates (the kids) and an almond gallette (me). It was buttery, flaky heaven – as expected. Come mid-afternoon when we were done exploring the July monument at thee Place de la Bastille and revisited the Place St Michel, Sennen and I decided to wander back down that street from last night and get some of that great smelling street food for ourselves. Sennen wanted the very authentic looking chicken gyros – which he said were ALMOST as good as Patmos. I love nothing more than walking with a hot cheese, turkey and egg crepe – and mine was as good as any I've ever had. Ailyn held out to finally try what I had been pushing off this entire trip: McDonald's in France.
I want to be clear – McDonald's is a business I have long refused to patronize on both moral and personal taste grounds. It has been at least 15 years since I have patronized a McDonald's – and even then, it was taking my then teenage cousin Josh for a burger. I haven't eaten in a McDonald's in more than 20 years. But the kids heard a lot about how much better McDonald's is in France from our former au pair Baptiste who used to work at a McDonald's here. I also have heard how much better the local MacDo's is - and knowing the EU has higher health standards – reluctantly said they kids could try if they want. While Sennen changed his mind about MacDo's – Ailyn held firm and so with gyros and crepes in hand, we walked to the nearest location.
Ordering at a touchscreen kiosk was easy. The McDonald's menu in France was extensive and at least appeared higher quality. They even offered three flavors of McEau – flavored sparkling water. Between the ease of ordering and the options, it seemed like everything we heard was true. We ordered Ailyn a Royale with Cheese meal which came with fries and a beverage. She chose the McEau Citron (Lemon). We didn't super size.
Then came the downward spiral. The kiosk at first offered us a number to use for table service – then rescinded it saying table service wasn't possible right now. Ok. It also wouldn't allow me to pay despite a built-in POS device. Instead, it printed a ticket and said I needed to get in line to pay. Ok. Then we waited for almost 50 minutes for our order. We could track it on a screen showing orders in progress. We learned with time that only certain kinds of orders appear on the screen. McCafe and other varieties of orders worked more like the Supreme Court Shadow Docket – they just got in there, were processed quickly and left our standard food order to wait.
Ailyn remained steadfast in her desire to get her McDonald's, so we endured. Then, our order fell out of the on-screen queue. That created angst with the kids. I checked at the counter – and again with a manager – and was told that onscreen or not, our order was not lost and would still be coming. Then people with numbers just before and right after ours received their orders. The tension began to rise. Each kid had moments of crying. I reminded them it's just a burger. We could leave – I didn't care about the 10 euros. McDonald's isn't my thing anyway. However, the closer delivery of our food seemed, the more Ailyn was willing to double-down.
When it finally came, the kids were at their breaking point and wanted to rush upstairs to have Ailyn eat her prize. Only there were no seats for three of us. I felt the meltdown coming and managed to spot two stools at a counter and put the kids in them. I could stand – no issue. The first complaint came – the fries were not hot and tasted so-so. Their mood was precarious and I could see this going badly. Luckily, the burger was proclaimed excellent, as was the McEau – and the day was saved. The "fry sauce" which was sort of an herbed mayo also went over well and we pulled back from the brink of emotional chaos.
All the same – the final conclusion was that McDonald's food was not especially great in France and their service and operations were far worse. As we walked back down the street, both kids wished not to return to a McDonald's. It occurred to me it might have been like teaching your kid not to smoke by making them smoke a cigarette. I can only hope the lesson sticks. If it doesn't, they're not getting back to a McDonald's with me – that was a horrible experience.
To give some context, I was concerned about emotional meltdown because it also happened last night. After our milkshake wandering and tourist store shopping, the kids and I made our way to the benches/bleachers in front of Notre Dame. Ailyn was cold, tired and didn't want to walk – and we had an hour until midnight. What I read online said the midnight fireworks would be visible in many places including anywhere along the Seine. Notre Dame is on the Seine and my recollection of previous New Years' in Paris was fireworks filling the sky.
We spent the hour having a lot of fun – calling loved ones, sending texts, taking photos and videos, enjoying the street performers' music and dancing in the square. Ailyn was excited she had made it to midnight when the countdown began. And then nothing appeared in the sky. The entire crowd looked as confused as we were. We heard what sounded like fireworks, so I rushed us down to the riverbank. There, looking southward down the river, we could see burst of fireworks coming just about roofline level. It was hard to see most of the bursts – they were aimed surprisingly low. Sennen began crying because all he wanted was to see the fireworks on New Year's in Paris. Then a few higher flying fireworks shot up, and he grew happy – deciding he had in fact seen fireworks in Paris.
That's when Ailyn lost her shit. She had stayed up, in the cold, despite being tired, with her legs numb for NOTHING. Why had she gone through all that for fireworks she couldn't see?! In fairness, she signaled she was tired out at 11 but Sennen so wanted to see fireworks, we asked if she could hang in until midnight and she graciously did. She actually seemed to have a very good time for the next hour – so I was surprised at the strength of her reaction, except that Ailyn was genuinely tired and couldn't really emotional regulate once she lost it.
"I hate 2024! Everything has gone wrong. Now I have to wait a whole other year for things to go right!" she wailed.
Pointing out that it had only been five minutes of 2024 and that sometimes there are moments that just don't go to plan didn't do much in her fatigued state. So once Sennen said he'd had enough – we grabbed an Uber (who happened to be right there) and shot out of the Ile de la Cite back to our apartment and got Ailyn to bed. All the while she cried and complained how 2024 was ruined and why had she suffered in the cold for nothing?! She even called Emily to tell her the same thing.
Luckily for us all, this morning it turned out 2024 might be redeemed. I just became worried that the McDonald's incident might be more proof of a cursed year – but she didn't go there.
All of that said, we agreed that New Year's Days are usually lazy days. We didn't get out until 1:30 and we came back to the apartment by 5:15. So much was closed anyway, and Ailyn clearly needed the rest. So it's movies, take out and an early night for us. No haute cuisine, no McDonald's, no fireworks, no Notre Dame.
But a promising, redeemed 2024.
Bonne Fete Anee!
