More Paris - the Brocante

I've been saving these pictures because this was both J's and my favorite part of the trip. The Clignancourt Brocante (which I think just means "bric-a-brac") is like if all of, say, the Garment District consisted entirely of semi-permanent stalls, each of which having a very specific focus. Such as my favorite category, old kitchen stuff.

I think J took this one. He knows much more about photographizing.

And, the bestest thing that I was so delighted to find out even exists: glass French rolling pins.


Yeah. They are glass because it's pretty, and also because you can fill the rollers with hot water and cork the ends, so they become hot and make the dough easier to roll out. I want the white one in the top row with the little flower details.




Makes me wish I were focused enough to be a collector of some really specific, too-beautiful to be truly useful item. I can see it happening with the rolling pins, or maybe with the copper gelatin molds that were everywhere. They'd look so pretty all on one wall.

We also became a little obsessed by vintage French postcards like this one:

from merci-facteur

We loved that they just wrote one little line on the back. It seems that just getting a picture in the mail was the special thing. The cancelled stamps on the picture side make them even prettier.

One thing they really get right at these flea markets is the food. At the end of the lane at Clignancourt, we found the perfect, bustling, amber light-filled bistro we had been searching for the whole week.

Everything was perfect: brusque waitress who dropped everything, a bottle of perfectly adequate wine, and chicken and vegetables in a Staub pot. I still can't get over the simple, hot wonderfulness of this lunch.

I want to feel all the time like I felt walking out of this place: tipsy, warm, and so happy.


At the other market we stumbled into (snuck might be a better verb... we were supposed to pay 8 euros to get in), there was a corner with hot chocolate brewing in some Charlie and the Chocolate Factory contraption, and an oyster stand directly across from that.


I'm so glad J insisted on getting a half dozen. We sat on a bridge over the canal and sipped Muscadet out of plastic cups.

Stocking Up

I swear I wasn't trying to make a pun when I though of this title. But I'm keeping it, because it really is the mood I'm in this week. After several days of post-vacation, no-food-in-the-house existence, I was humbled when J expressed nostalgia for the childhood days of a fridge full of fresh produce and leftovers.

I realized I had fallen into my collegiate habit of a few small trips to the market every week for the odd baguette, wedge of cheese and a couple apples. I think I thought there was something French about this.


But things are different now. Living with someone means thinking about the future. Like, next week. So it was time to make good on my promise to use up all the baggies of chicken parts (a collection augmented by our recent passion for butterflying chickens correctly! We've been doing it backwards this whole time) and carrot stubs waiting in the freezer.


I used the pasta pot with built-in strainer, which works great in theory as you don't have to put everything in a bag or cheesecloth. Ours is a little stupid, though, since the straining holes go all the way up to the top and you have to leave several inches of room in the pot so the liquid doesn't seep out the sides.


15 minutes of assembling the raw material + 4 hours of simmering while roasting a big batch of beets and cutting up a whole buncha kale and mushrooms = a mise en place for the whole rest of the week and a sense of plenty upon opening the fridge.

Chicken Stock (adapted from kitchn)

Place chicken parts (I had necks and backbones. Some recipes want you to put whole chicken parts in, but to me the point of this project is to use up scraps), vegetable bits (root ends of carrots are ok, as are wilted greens like celery tops; just no onion skins and I think cabbage is a no as well), a chopped up onion or two and a couple cloves of garlic plus whatever fresh herbs you have around (my oregano, rosemary and parsley have survived!) and a pinch or 2 or 3 of salt in a pasta pot or in a cloth bag. Add enough water to cover.

Bring to a boil and then turn down a little so the stock is just bubbling. If someone walks in and says "It smells amazing in here!", make sure the pot is covered and turn the heat down a tad. The yummy smell is flavor compounds being released.

Read a book, listen to a podcast. 4 hours of simmering should be good. Strain, let cool, and refridgerate stock overnight. Skim the congealed fat if you want, discard it or save it for cooking. Put in bags or tupperware (I also filled an ice cube tray) and freeze.