Veal’s head and steak tartare . . . vraiment, a Parisian day.

Woke up late. By the time we got moving it was close to 11. Walked up to the 18e arrondissement—home to Montmartre, the Sacré-Coeur, and the Moulin Rouge—on our way to Parc Monceau (saving Sacré-Coeur and the “village” for another day). By the time we reached the park it was almost 1 p.m. If we wanted lunch (we are on Paris time), we had to find a place immediately or be stuck with something quick.

We decided upon Chartier, a 112-year-old working-class restaurant . . . filled with tourists, yes, but a throwback in the best of ways. Great food? How about decent food at a good price in a marvelous setting? The Wife started with six escargots in the classic garlic parsley butter and I the saucisson l’ail. Shortly followed The Wife’s steak tartare (DIY) and my tête de veau sauce gribiche. I can’t vouch for the steak tartare, but the tête de veau was properly tender and fatty, without the slightest hint of fussiness; to every juicy bite I added a slice of boiled potato and a dollop of sauce gribiche (though it didn’t provide enough acidic bite to truly cut the fattiness). Add a carafe of house red and the bill came to €40 (not bad for a brief trip through time).

Next, we headed to the 9e and Galeries Lafayette and then the 7e and Le Bon Marché to wander their food courts and pick up a few tidbits for our stay.

From Le Bon Marché we meandered through the 7e.

Day’s end had us back in our neighborhood, sipping Ricard at a sidewalk café, and people watching. For me, it was a feast for the eyes. For The Wife, not so much.

By eight o’clock we were at the apartment for a light salad and the ol’ standby of fromage, rillettes, pâté, baguettes, and wine; and plans for another wonderful tomorrow.