Paris_ The Collected Traveler - Barrie Kerper [186]
Across the boulevard Montmartre the Passage Jouffroy, dating from 1845, beckons from beneath the weight of the Hôtel Ronceray. It has an Oriental flavor, thanks to two of its largest shops, the Palais Oriental and La Tour des Délices. The former is ideal if you have to cancel a trip to Marrakech, stocking almost everything to be found in the souks. The latter is full of delectable sweetmeats made of honey and almonds and coconut, which it serves up with mint tea.
France takes over farther down under the skylight with Pain d’Épice, a shop specializing in tiny, shiny toys to fill a stocking as well as the miniature batterie de cuisine and provisions for the larder of a dollhouse Cordon Bleu. Galerie 34 and Abel are treasure houses of parasols, umbrellas, walking sticks, and canes, dating from the seventeenth century to the end of World War II. And I never fail to stop at La Boîte à Joujoux at the bend of the passage opposite the exit of the Musée Grévin to select a fifteen-franc bag of bonbons à l’ail (garlic hard candies) from among the jokes.
The Librairie Vulin operates in a more serious vein, promising “toujours de belles occasions” (always good bargains). The shop’s bins of books line the passage, making Vulin a bouquiniste without the hazards of Seine-side rainstorms. Opposite stands Cinédoc, a mecca for film fanatics questing for posters, postcards, magazines, black-and-white studio stills, and books, including biographies of stars from Bud Abbott to Loretta Young.
Across the rue de la Grange-Batelière the Passage Verdeau entices from between Corinthian columns. Its skylights, divided into small squares, its peeling cream paint, and its stony floor make the passage seem more tenebrous and bleak, but its restaurant and specialist shops assure it a following. Most prominent among the boutiques is Photo Verdeau, the source for rare cameras. Its ample stock of nineteenth-century matériel—objects like stereopticons—is complemented by a selection of silent films starring Harold Lloyd and Charlie Chaplin. Cheek by jowl, two good bookstores, the Librairie Farfouille and the Librairie Le Comédien, offer delicious scents to the bookhound. Postcard collectors flock to La France Ancienne. A good postsearch lunch is available at either the Restaurant Martin Malburet (aka Drouot Verdeau) or Les Menus Plaisirs. The first is more ambitious, with its collection of enameled promotional signs spread over two stories. I spied one vaunting Brasseries du Katanga while enjoying the gigotin d’agneau en croûte (lamb in pastry) and the marquise au chocolat extra bitter et moka (dense bitter chocolate and mocha mousse).
Another day I sampled Les Menus Plaisirs, a restaurant name with a double entendre, referring to both the pleasures of the carte and the small pleasures enjoyed by a king when he ruled the land. In the case of this small restaurant the pleasures take the form of such offerings as good salads and pastas with smoked salmon, foie gras, basil, or garlic.
The fate of some of the other passages has been less happy. Some, like the Passage du Caire and the Passage du Havre, have capitulated to the worst excesses of commerce. In the case of the Passage du Caire this is a shame, for it is the oldest extant, with an exceptionally elegant, bright glass skylight. Its entrance on the rue du Caire still bears three stylized retour d’Egypte pharaohs. Unfortunately the wholesale garment district seized the neighborhood, and today the poor passage is hostage to neon-lit tenants who supply display wares, mannequins, and wrapping materials to small shops across France. I have long