A real day in Paris, chez Miznon.

by Durime Hoxha (Italy)

Making a local connection France

I could look the sky from the flat of the second arrondissement in Paris where I spent my two last nights, so kindly received by a modern charming prince, a French guy. It was covered and cloudy as you can except it, once down in the street we actually understood that those tiny rainy drops were also there and kept us company for long hours. Passing just under the house where Colette lived for decades until her death, you can arrive at the Palais Royal’s park. I could admire for the first time those light sea green chairs all around the fountain and also spread with the trees all around the park, and actual readers occupied them, turning their pages without knowing to be part of the most perfect painting. It was the scene of the most real French film, those seen with the light turned off keeping the screen just near to you. It wasn’t the first time for me in Paris, I had already crossed the Louvre and went on and off the Parisian’s bridges, but our direction was another one, or better his direction was another one, le Marais. We’re headed there to eat, that was the main raison. My guide was a travel lover, any part of his apartment was a piece of the roads that he’d joined. The idea was to use Paris to travel together with just a few hours in our disposition, travel through our sensations. Paris is filled with all these tiny airports called bistros. Le Marais is an open kitchen, one of them when you can see the chef choosing which sauce he’s putting in that plate that you’ve been dreaming for long minutes, the flavor accompanies your steps, your envies decide where to turn and where to stop. What forced me to stop was the beauty, the window of Miznon made a strike on me. It was simple but filled with red mature tomatoes just putted one upon the other staying there and hitting to who looked from the other side of the glass, near to them another pile was made by cauliflower, the real specialty of that street food restaurant. The green and white of the cauliflower next to the red of the tomatoes where the perfect colors of an endless valley with her thick grass filled with poppy’s that my mind made me see. The decision was made, once the door was opened a whole universe was attending us. A universe made by perfumes, flavors, music, colors, green herbs on the tables, dancing cooks on their positions screaming loud that it was ready, and all was served under a shy light all over the place. We managed to find a table, everyone who has visited at least once Paris has noticed their ability to eat in those extremely tiny bistro’s tables where all you need to eat and use for your meal must enter perfectly in that extreme little space that you dispose, it’s a miracle which happens every time a meal is served, so it was for us. At Miznon eating was making love, every little slice was an explosion of flavor, it was possible to hear every thought just reading the expressions on the faces of the other lucky ones around us, the air was thick and tired filled with all the pleasure released after each bite. Once finished we left the table for the next Miznon’s lovers, we stepped out closing the door behind us leaving the dancing waiters and the enchanted restaurant to keep on with his service. The rain has stopped but the clouds were still there, we left rue des Ecouffes and headed to Place des Vosges.