Scallops and Spas On A Frigid Sunday

January has had the most bone chilling bitter cold that I can remember since living in Paris.  With a knee injury,  I have not been sailing around this gorgeous city like I am use to.

Having already missed an important march Saturday, I was determined to get up to Montmartre for the scallop festival and wing through the spa salon at the Carrousel du Louvre.

Sunday,  the temperature at least climbed above freezing, and with a bright sun, it felt warmer than the previous two weeks.  Fête de la Coquilles Saint Jacques et Saint Vincent was taking place in Montmartre on Place des Abbesses.

Saint Vincent is the patron saint of winemakers and traditionally throughout winemaking regions of France, there is a big village celebration.

As the vines of Montmartre are basically the only Parisian ones, except for some within the walls of a hospital on the hill, they decided to combine the two celebrations.

Place Abbesses is usually where most tourists exit from the metro to ascend the winding streets towards Sacre Coeur.

I was hoping that the elevator that takes you to the surface from the deeply buried line 12 was working, as the thought of climbing up all those stairs with my  knee would have been a deterrent, even though descending stairs is painful  rather than climbing.

As soon as I exited the elegant Art Deco filigree metro awning of Hector Guimard,, I could hear the celtic music of Brittany. Brittany is the major producer of sea scallops, specifically the northern coast of the teapot looking spout of land that juts into the blue Atlantic and joins the English channel.

Sea scallops are indeed one of the finest delicacies to be found amongst the myriads of excellent seafood here. The best ones have the bright orange coral or roe, which is delicious to eat.

They are priced like jewels in a shell to boot, bought whole and freshly shucked in front of you or already shelled for even more per kilo.

Six in a shell goes for about 10 euros and already shucked 42 to 50 euros a kilo. Fortunately for me 3 is enough, especially if they have the delicious orange coral.

My favourite way is to either grill or pan sear them briefly  and serve with a beurre rose as seen in the photo, sprinkled with pomegranate seeds.

The fish stand had little left and was selling several specimens with the head removed, a dubious sign for me.

Rare to find any poissonnerie(fish monger) that sells headless fish, as most French would never think to buy headless and  seeing how red the gills are is  a sign of freshness.

The sweet smell of grilled skewered scallops permeated the air and there was a long line of hungry customers.

The oyster bar was doing a brisk business selling 6 oysters for 8 euros.  Very briny Brittany oysters remain my favourite, besides those from Ile Oleron near Bordeaux.

The only wine produced closest to Brittany  is Muscadet, from vines  near the Loire border around Nantes and goes well with oysters due to its crisp acidity.

Of course there was Champagne for sale as well, though the department is well removed from the Atlantic shores. The bottom line is you can’t have a party here without its bubbles!

Steaming hot fish soup was also on the menu, or you could buy cans of it to take home; something that I would much prefer to make myself with all the wealth of beautiful seafood available here.

Brittany is famous for all sort of crepes  and galettes made with generally either white or buckwheat (sarrasin) flours.  The buckwheat ones make for a delicious meal folded over ham, cheeses, sausage, eggs and what not, while the  plain crepes are general served sweet with sugar, Nutella, jams and various other toppings.

Every region is France has their own pork products called charcuterie and sausages, so plump ones were browning up to be tucked in buckwheat crepes, along with eggs and cheese.

 

 

 

 

I did see something “new” to my eyes   and it was called “tagliatelle” of buckwheat crepes.  Slivers of these galettes were browned on a grill then smothered with grated cheese.

Apple cider is deemed the most appropriate beverage for crepes, but though many come from Brittany, they are mostly associated with Normandy that borders the area.

Apple cider made here is slightly alcoholic, ranging between 2 to 8 percent, and is effervescent.  Industrial ones can be very good, but the artisanal made ones can be a real treat to try.

Apple cider is made from special cider apples, not your regular eating varieties. Like the majority of French, I prefer the brut , or the very dry ones.

Scallop fishing is highly regulated here as to when they can be gathered and how much time the boat can stay out fishing, along with quotas. If the captain is caught heading out of the harbour even one minute before legal departure time, he can be fined.

There is fierce competition with fishermen from the English coast.  I often read of fueling  French fisherman chasing the English boats away, accusing them of pilfering from designated French scallop beds.

The French scallop fishermen also complain that English laws are more lax than the French ones, giving them a financial advantage.  The shells are raked in with large steel meshed bottom scrapers, a small one seen in the photo.

The commanderie de Clos de Montmartre with the bright red and blue ceremonial robes were there too, which was more for show other than selling vin chaud.

 

There was a stand selling a beverage of Brittany that I was unfamiliar with called chouchenn.  Made with fermented buckwheat honey and apple cider, it is aged in barrels for around two years.  I did not taste it, but it is said to resemble a type of mead.

 

 

Place Abbesses has a permanent merry go round and they were full of kiddies when I peaked in.  The balloon man was loaded down with balloons bobbing left and right as he walked along  looking for a buyer.

Although the idea is cute to showcase regional specialities in one place, I walked away rather unimpressed as the vast majority of what was offered, with the exception of skewered scallops, galette tagliatelle, and song and dance of Brittany can be found in multiple places throughout Paris and usually better priced as well.

Before I left, I stepped inside Saint Jean de Montmartre, whose interior was like no other church I have ever seen done with concrete arches a la Art Deco.

The winter sun was so bright, the glare was almost blinding as I walked down Rue Houdon towards Pigalle to catch bus 67 that would take me directly to the Louvre.

The Carrousel du Louvre is an underground shopping mall and has an exhibit hall.  It is an extension of the Louvre’s ancient underground buildings, including remnants of the original moats and circular stone foundations.

They have now added lighted wording, which takes away from the sobering feel of walking next to such historic elements of construction.

Les Thermalies was  a marketplace to find thermal spas, either medicalised or not from Europe or elsewhere.  Most of the famous drinking waters of France have their own, such as Evian, Vittal and etc.

Spas are big business throughout Europe, as Europeans have traditional gone to them, often paid in part by national health care.  Each ones specialises in cures for just about any ailment or for beautification.

I love going to them for the sheer relaxing pleasures of being immersed in bubbling hot waters.  I prefer to seek out ones with outdoors pools, preferably with snow-capped mountain landscapes or in baroque settings like in Budapest.

Most of the presenters were French ones, but I was glad to see Roumanian offerings for the first time. I have not been to Roumania yet, but had already been interested in taking in a spa experience there.

The Italians had a huge stand showcasing several regions of Italy, each replete with luxurious spas.  The one I have been most interested in, Pre Saint Didier, in the Alps near Courmayeur, was not presented.

Various as sundry stands were selling energy and magnetic bracelets,  crystals and snail saliva cosmetics.

I was surprised to see a hawking of a cryotherapy tank here.  Much cheaper is a DIY outside sprint  in your bathing suit with a brisk wind or snow bath.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I much prefer thermal baths in freezing weather because of the wonderful sensations of feeling snow or sleet fall on your head while the rest of you in underneath bubbling hot waters.

With steam vapors swirling around your head, it makes for an unforgettable transcendental experience.  The indoor pool baths, can be lovely too, but not as fabulous as an outdoor one in frigid surroundings.

I left wondering why the Scandinavian countries weren’t there promoting their own.  My own experience with thermal pools in Iceland was mind blowing beautiful set against such unusual volcanic landscapes.

You can read about my adventures there in my post: https://www.cherrychapman.com/2016/02/22/icredible-iceland   and about the thermal baths of Budapest in .www.cherrychapman.com/2013/01/25/hot-bubbles-in-the-snow

The French have famous coastal spas and many dot the mountainous regions of the  Alps, Auvergne. and the Pyrenees.   The mud of Dax for example is reputed for its healing properties coming from the banks of a river near the foot of the Pyrenees that empties out into the Atlantic.

With my bum knee, I wished I could have been transported to a bubbly vat on the spot.  I did at least come home heavily laden with brochures  to contemplate which spa  to try next.

Though Paris does have several  Turkish baths, none are in picturesque settings, or in scope of the magnificent ones in Budapest.

For whatever Paris lacks in thermal baths, she makes up for all the absolutely gorgeous architecture and beautiful scenery and art everywhere, even at the Carrousel shopping and exhibit hall!

Paris is the most wonderful immersion of beauty of all the cities in the world, bar none!