When I left you yesterday the sun was setting as mum was doing this…
Having hopped from pillar to post in the Palais-Royal, we started to get a little chilly and a little peckish.
So made our way back to the Champs-Élysées.
This time we stayed at the Fouquet’s Barrière which was recommended by a very old friend of mine.
He raved about the service, the spa and the location. We were sold.
He didn’t even mention the deliciously squidgy beds!
We pulled our boots off and sighed with relief as we wriggled our toes into the thick carpet.
Huge mugs of tea and a pack of French biscuits brought us back to life a little.
I left mum to have a snooze and headed down to make the most of the spa (and swim off some of that cheesy lunch).
After a little nap of my own it was time to get ready for supper.
PJ had booked us into one of his favourite places. At 8pm there was a knock on the door and he was there waiting to escort us.
A quick taxi ride later and we were standing outside Palais de Tokyo, the famous and rather beautiful contemporary art museum.
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PJ led us inside where there was a large, silver box.
He climbed the ramp and pulled open the door, using a handle I hadn’t even seen.
Like Narnia at the back of the wardrobe, we had found Monsieur Bleu.
We took our seats and were quickly presented with cocktails.
Mum started with crab.
While PJ & I both opted for the pâté, which tasted better than it looked. Honest.
PJ followed it up with a true beast of a burger.
Mum had the scallops.
And I had the most unbelievable Iberico pork with truffle mash (sadly it didn’t photograph terribly well).
In fact, with the cocktails and wine flowing, photography spiralled down hill fairly rapidly!
We shared a selection of puddings.
My favourite, as always, was the mille feuille.
Layers of crisp puff pastry filled with crème pâtissière and dusted with icing sugar.
It’s the perfect combination of crunchy, smooth, rich and light. The most delicious of contradictions.
Having eaten ourselves to a standstill we took a stroll through the glittering streets, back to the hotel.
Said our goodnights and our goodbyes to PJ and fell into a deep, happy sleep.
Which only got happier the next morning when we were presented with breakfast!
(No-one EVER said Paris is good for the waistline.)
The juice bar.
Generously cut, wild smoked salmon slices.
The French can find an excuse to have cheese with absolutely every meal… and I love them for it.
The fruit & yogurt station and last but not least…
Carb heaven!
The best bit of all?
Teeny tiny Tabasco bottles for your eggs!
Later in the day we stumbled across some graffiti that seemed rather fitting…
But I’m getting ahead of myself again.
More on that tomorrow!