My Favorite Place in Paris
I told Mimi that I was saving the information on this place for people who tell me I am wonderfully witty. So if you are reading this, and you have not yet told me I am wonderfully witty, you need to stop and go post a comment to the effect of my wittiness right now. Before you read any further. If you do not and you read about this place without telling me I am wonderfully witty, you will have cheated. And I don’t know for sure, but I think it is highly likely that bad karma would follow such a cheater for all of their days.
Maybe we should do a scientific study. Maybe everyone who cheats and reads this without posting praise of my wittiness and everyone who plays fair and showers me with compliments can keep a record of their karma for the next ten years, and then, in January 2017, everyone can rendez-vous here to compare their decade of karma and see.
I am a little hesitant. I feel maybe I should wait for the wittiness praises before posting, that otherwise it’s a bit like the cow/barn door thing. But then I saw that Mimi has another blog, and that this one is called FRENCH CHOCOLATE KITCHEN. And she has been making truffles! And I am hoping I can lure her into sending truffles to ME, as opposed to me sending them to other people for committing murder or not committing murder, which, I would like to point out, I have NEVER promised to do, even though the rumor seems to be persisting. (Although in this latest persistence of it, I must say homicide sounds justifiable.)
So…keeping my fingers crossed that this works…my favorite place in Paris…is…:
La Charlotte de l’Isle. I love La Charlotte de l’Isle the way you love a magic ring you find in the forest that whispers it will take you away into whatever dream you choose. I love it because it has the best hot chocolate I’ve had anywhere, outside maybe a couple of places in Madrid and one other place in Paris that has since closed. I love it because sometimes when you go there, they have a giant chocolate seahorse hanging so low over the display case that people hit their head on it when they get too close to the tempting homey-looking chocolate tartes on display. I love it because sometimes the window is full of a Black Forest of dark chocolate trees through which swoop dark chocolate witches riding broomsticks of dark chocolate and orange peel. I love it because of the antique silver bowl containing crystallized mint, with an antique silver spoon dipped in it just so, with just the right carelessness, as if a witch was using crystallized mint in her next potion and she had her supplies strewn all around her. I love the pointed hats that fill its back room, witch hats and medieval princess hats and New Year’s hats and birthday hats, but they’re all conical. Every single one. I love the cuckoo clock out of which a witch pops instead of a bird, like Hansel and Gretel’s house. I love this place. It is like magic that is real. It is like Paris at its very best, it is the type of place that is the heart of Paris and the reason why–beyond the bridges and the museums and the Eiffel Tower and the black and white photos of kissing couples–so many people love this city. It’s on l’Ile St. Louis, not too far from Notre-Dame.
Go to Paris, go have some hot chocolate there and see how it’s served, study the menus and the backs of the menus and see all the hundreds of tiny details I haven’t told you about. If there’s a spot to see in Paris, this is it.