Baguette Musings

"Merci"

"Merci, Salute"

As the owner continued barking orders to the help in French, I glanced at the queue for waffles.  I would love a fresh waffle with honey but not while both my hands were clutching tightly onto something else.

As I walked into the underground tunnel, I sank my teeth into the roast beef, lettuce and tomato baguette with dill pickles and Dijonnaise.  The golden-brown bread was crunchy, the roast beef a touch dry, the dill pickles sour-sweet enough to temper the mustard-spice coming from the Dijonnaise.  I was reminded of the chewy pale Dench bread that Earl's Canteen offers, and that incredibly crispy roast pork rind that came with its now-famous juicy pork belly baguette with apple and fennel coleslaw.  Should the filling of a baguette be better than the bread itself?  I did wonder.

I was dropping crumbs and the odd bit of tomato everywhere as I looked into the shop windows in the underground.  Not that I was worried about losing my way around in this now-familiar underground shopping haven.  If only I can actually afford one of those fantastic pieces...

I paused to grab an Ethiopian Yirgacheffe espresso at Cup of Truth.  It seemed rather fitting, carrying a red messenger bag, holding onto a paper bag with a half-eaten French baguette in one hand while sniffing and then quickly drinking a good short black in the other.  A smile and wave to the barista, and off I went into the sunlight.  Back to the baguette. 

By the river, the crumbs had stopped falling off but there went a good slice of tomato for the birds.  As  I passed by the spot underneath the pedestrian bridge where the Ghostrider first uses his Penance Stare in the 2006 film, I thought about the few baguettes I had during my limited time in Paris.  They were basic, nothing flashy, and certainly I had to remind the staff more than one time to remember the dill pickles.  I was always bemused by their stunned looks then.  They must really think that people who do not speak French therefore do not eat dill pickles.  I wonder what they would have thought of the queue on Centre Place for the four-dollar petit baguettes filled with smoked salmon salmon red onions and capers, roast chicken lettuce and mayonnaise, ham cheese and tomato etcetera.  Of course, not for me the petit baguette. I much rather pay for a proper full baguette, the kind that tells you how freshly baked baguette is meant to taste and smell like every time you grab a bite.

Scrunching up the now-empty bag, I see the office worker crowd packing up its BBQ mess by the giant pigeon house and the waiter idling by the new crepe place on the riverbank.  I am rather full, really, so no French crepes for me either today.   Besides, work awaits.  The kind where an understanding of France, the French language or the French cuisine is not required. :) ##