May Flowers

Last weekend, as I was loading up the car to drive back to the city from Darlington House, I found a basket of spring flowers waiting for me on the brick terrace in front of our kitchen door.

Boy had filled the basket, a trug really, with purple and white lilacs cut from our property and a dozen parrot tulips bought the day before at the farmers market in the nearby town.

I was so taken by the flowers' simple beauty that I asked Boy to photograph them, so I could remember them.

Lilacs are probably my favorite flower—well, at least they are among my top three favorites, which would also include peonies and garden roses.  I admit I am also rather partial to parrot tulips—so lush and elemental, verging upon the bizarre.

But how could one choose favorites among these lovely flowers?  They are so beautiful and plump, and heady with perfumed fragrance.  One is grateful for them, and for one's life when one is so fortunate to have their company, however fleeting it may be.

photographs by Boy Fenwick

The Simple Pleasure of a Chiming Clock In One's Bed Chamber

As readers of this blog well know, Reggie is a somewhat old-fashioned fellow.  While he appreciates the conveniences and advances of the modern world, when it comes to how he lives his daily life his feet are inclined to be planted in an earlier time of rotary telephones, winding clocks, and monthly calendars.  In England he might be considered a Young Fogey, except that he has long since passed beyond what anyone (except for those of a very advanced age) might consider to still be young.  Sad, Dear Reader, but true.

Reggie's carriage clock
sitting on a chest of drawers at Darlington House

As a boy I had a fascination with carriage clocks, which I first came across in the houses of my little friends and also those of our neighbors.  Developed in France around 1810 by master clock-maker Abraham Louis Breguet (1747-1823), carriage clocks (also known as "officer's clocks," or pendules de voyage) are compact traveling timepieces that were fashionable among well-to-do Europeans and Americans throughout much of the nineteenth century.  Their appeal was both visual (they are pleasing to look at) and practical, as the clocks' mechanisms were cleverly designed to keep ticking (and thus telling accurate time) on bumpy carriage and train rides.

An early French carriage clock, with its original leather carrying case
Image courtesy of the Clock Workshop, Winchester, England

As I grew into adulthood I considered buying myself an antique carriage clock, but refrained from doing so (even though sorely tempted in several instances) because of a (perhaps unfounded) concern that finding someone to skillfully refurbish said clock to modern timekeeping standards would be challenging and expensive.  In other words, I was concerned that the purchase price of the clock would merely be the entry ticket to a long and costly project that might not, in the end, produce the desired result: a well regulated clock that keeps accurate time.

"The London to Bath Coach" by John Charles Maggs (1819-1896)
Image courtesy of Wikimedia

But that all changed a decade or so ago when I was fortunate to find myself on holiday in London.  I had recently received a substantial bonus at the Investment Bank where I work, and—as they say—money was burning a hole in my pocket.  (I note that this was back in the days when Investment Banks still paid handsome bonuses, which is today but a sad (albeit sweet) and (increasingly) distant memory for those of us who remain employed in what is left of that industry.)

"The New Steam Carriage" by George Morton
Image courtesy of Wikimedia

In any event, Reggie was in a shopping mood on that particular trip, so where do you think he made his way to in order to indulge his desire to spend?  Asprey!  Yes, the august English bespoke jeweler, silversmith, leather goods and timepiece purveyor to royals, aristocrats, and moneybags the world over.

I didn't go to Asprey to buy a carriage clock, mind you, but it was there that I serendipitously chanced upon the perfect one to bring home with me to Darlington House, as a souvenir (well, a trophy, really) of our trip to London.  While strolling through Asprey's New Bond Street store I came across a display of handsome clocks in a room that included a modern gilt brass carriage clock made in the traditional form.  I wondered: "Could this be the fulfillment of my desire (finally) to own a carriage clock that actually works?"  After giving the glittering timepiece a look over, and having the saleslady demonstrate its features to me, I decided to buy it.  Yes, it was rather costly, Dear Reader—I was shopping at Asprey, after all.

Asprey's store on New Bond Street in London
Image courtesy of Wikimedia

The carriage clock I acquired that day has stood ever since on a chest of drawers in our bedroom at Darlington House, where it pleases me whenever I see it, or hear it.  For, you see, Dear Reader, my little clock softly and mellifluously chimes the number of hours at every hour and a single note at every half hour, so it is not only a visual reminder of the passing of time, but a gently aural one too.

The clock's works are a marvel
of elegant engineering

I had never before known the pleasure of a chiming clock in one's bedroom, and I have come to be a great appreciator of mine as the years have passed.  There is something quietly reassuring of hearing its chime strike softly as one wakens, either during the night or in the morning, and to learn what time it is.  When one has such a clock in one's bedroom one needn't grope for one's bedside clock to find out the hour, but rather one's clock sweetly and quietly announces it from across the room.

There's no place like home, Dear Reader.

Photographs of Reggie's carriage clock by Boy Fenwick

An Afternoon at King Manor

After having spent a most enjoyable visit at the Bartow-Pell Mansion in the Bronx, Boy and I decided to fire up the family jalopy again and drive out to the far reaches of Jamaica, Queens, to explore King Manor, another one of New York City's historic house museums.

The approach to King Manor, located in Rufus King Park, Jamaica, Queens

King Manor is named after the Honorable Rufus King (1755-1827), a signer of the U.S. Constitution, a senator from the State of New York, the nation's first Ambassador to Great Britain, a land owner, and a gentleman farmer.  The house sits in Rufus King Park, an eleven-acre public space in what is today a working class residential and commercial stretch in Queens, New York.  The house is about a forty-minute drive from the UES.

   

Rufus King and his wife, Mary Alsop, purchased an eighteenth-century farmhouse with ninety acres in 1805, and they spent the next twenty years improving and enlarging the house and property, which today is known as King Manor.  The Kings also maintained a townhouse in Manhattan, where they lived during the colder months of the year, when they weren't in residence in Washington, D.C., or London.

An etching of the the Rufus King Manor
Jamaica, New York, ca. 1930
Image courtesy of Keith Sheridan Fine Art

By the time of Rufus King's death in 1827 the house had grown to twenty-nine rooms and sat in an estate of one hundred and twenty-two acres of gardens, fields, orchards, and forest.  Subsequent generations of the King family lived in the Manor until 1888, when the house and much of its contents, along with eleven acres of land, were sold to the city of Jamaica.  The property came under the jurisdiction of the New York City Department of Parks & Recreation in 1898.

King Manor in 1950
Image courtesy of N.Y. City Department of Parks & Recreation

Within several years of King Manor being sold, houses and apartment buildings were built around the park's periphery.  Today the surrounding area is a combination of small apartment buildings and two-family houses, and large municipal buildings.  

The view across Jamaica Avenue, looking to the west

The entry to King Manor is from Jamaica Avenue, a busy thoroughfare that follows what had originally been a trail (known as the Yamecah Trail) established by the area's Lenape Native Americans long before Europeans colonized these shores.  The English, who took control of the area from the Dutch in the 1680s, named it Jameco, which was later changed to Jamaica.  There is no link between this part of Queens and the island in the Caribbean of the same name; that they share a name in common is entirely coincidental.

The view across Jamaica Avenue, looking to the east

Today there is little left on Jamaica Avenue from the time when the Kings lived in their house.  In the above photograph one can make out two towers of a brownstone Gothic Revival church standing between two hulking municipal buildings.  According to the young woman who gave us a tour of the house, it was in this church that the King family worshipped.  Well, not really.  Reggie has since learned from one of his perspicacious readers that the Kings worshipped in a different church, Grace Episcopal, that stands nearby.  Nonetheless, the church shown in the photograph is one of the few remainders of buildings that stood when the family was still in residence. 

The view into Rufus King Park from the rear of the house

Rufus King Park, which spreads out around and behind King Manor, is popular with and heavily used by residents of the surrounding area.  There were a lot of people in it the day we visited the house, running around and playing soccer and other ball games.

Architectural rendering of front elevation for the 1984
restoration of King Manor by Gibson Bauer Associates
Image courtesy of King Manor Association

King Manor underwent an extensive and careful restoration in the 1980s, and today the house is well cared for by the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation, with financial and other support from the worthy non-profit Historic House Trust of New York City.  King Manor is not one of the city's most popular historic house museums, given its location and the relative obscurity today of its once celebrated owners.  We were the only visitors to the house the afternoon we made our journey there.

An early twentieth-century postcard of King Manor.  Its Victorian
buff-and-brown paint scheme survived into the 1950s
Image courtesy of King Manor Association

In researching this post I came across numerous images of King Manor from different eras.

By the 1960s, the era of this postcard, the house was
painted white, with black shutters.  Note foundation plantings
and colorful flowerbeds full of annuals
Image courtesy of King Manor Association

It is interesting to see how the house and landscape evolved over the years, reflecting the changing tastes of the times and advances in historic restoration knowledge.

The house today, as painted in a scheme from the 1980s
restoration.  The foundation plantings are gone.

So, let's go inside and look around, shall we?

The main hall of the house features a handsome
Federal staircase with a mahogany banister

What strikes one when entering King Manor is that it is not a particularly "fine" house with articulated moldings or plasterwork that one would expect to see in a city house of its size.  It is a large country house that has been expanded over the years, and it functioned both as the seat of a family of consequence and as the hub of a large working farm.  The King's townhouse in Manhattan would have been a more refined dwelling, I believe.  King Manor's principal rooms are large and well proportioned, and overall the house is quite pleasant.  Were it not for the urban surroundings it sits in today, one could easily imagine living in it (assuming one had the substantial wherewithal required to do so).

The front parlor contains a marble fire-surround installed by the Kings
and a few pieces of Federal-period furniture

King Manor is only minimally furnished, and many of its secondary rooms have been set up as teaching installations, focusing on Rufus King's political activities.

Rufus King portrait by Gilbert Stuart, ca. 1820
Image courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery

A copy of a portrait of Rufus King by Gilbert Stuart hangs in the house's front parlor.  The original is in the collection of the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C.  Here is how the NPG describes the sitter on its website:

"Rufus King was one of the last of the Founding Fathers. A delegate from Massachusetts to the Continental Congress, an active framer of the Constitution, minister to Great Britain, opponent of the War of 1812, senator from New York, and the Federalist Party's last candidate for the presidency (overwhelmingly defeated by James Monroe in 1816), King had a public career that extended through the administrations of the first six presidents of the United States. His portrait was painted in 1819-20, a time when he tried to rouse opposition to the admission of Missouri as a slave state, defending before the Senate 'the natural liberty of man and its incompatibility with slavery in any shape.' John Quincy Adams recorded: 'He spoke with great power, and the great slaveholders . . . gnawed their lips and clenched their fists as they heard him.'"

In other words, Mr. King was a Very Big Deal in his day, and a man who did not shy away from controversy.

Turning back to the house, I rather liked the pretty cream jug and coffee can and saucer seen in the preceding photograph that were sitting on a desk in the front parlor.  Perhaps if I were to actually follow through on my "Coffee Can of the Week" series promise, I might do a post on the coffee can . . .

The house's commodious dining room was remodeled by the Kings to have an oval end, which our young docent said seated musicians for dances at the house.  The doors on either side of the window lead to small closets.

"The Dinner Party" by Henry Sargent, ca. 1821
Image courtesy of the Museum of Fine Arts Boston

King Manor's dining room's decoration has been loosely based on the interior depicted in the well-known painting "The Dinner Party" by the artist Henry Sargent.  I know of at least two other Federal-era historic house museums that have also looked to that painting for inspiration for their dining rooms: Homewood House in Baltimore (the subject of an earlier post of mine) and the Harrison Gray Otis House in Boston.

King Manor is notable for its library, shown in the preceding photograph.  At one time it held over 3,500 books, of which approximately 2,000 remain today behind the room's curtained cases.  A book collection of such size in America in the first decades of the nineteenth century would only have been possible for a person of substantial wealth.  To put it in perspective, Thomas Jefferson's library of 6,500 volumes was the largest library in private hands in America when he sold it to the U.S. Government in 1815 for the then staggering sum of $23,900.  It formed the nucleus of what is today the Library of Congress.

The woodwork and walls in King Manor's library were grained when the house was restored in the 1980s to approximate their original decoration.

A late-nineteenth or early-twentieth century
view of the library
Image courtesy of King Manor Association

The photograph of the library in the preceding photograph shows the room as it probably looked in the years leading up to when the Kings sold the house to the city of Jamaica.  I wonder where Rufus King's "favorite arm chair" is today?

The house's "gift shop" in the upstairs hall

Our tour ended in the upstairs hall, which has been somewhat haphazardly set up as a gift shop.  None of the upstairs rooms were open to the public when we visited the house.  We peeked into one or two of them, however, and saw that they were mostly filled with furniture (perhaps including the elusive "favorite arm chair") stored under protective sheets.  Assuming much of the covered furniture was sold to the city of Jamaica by the Kings when they vacated the house, I suspect a subsequent reinterpretation of King Manor's interior may bring some of it back into the rooms, which would have been furnished during the Kings final days with a mix of period furnishings, as seen in the early photograph of the library.

With our tour completed, we bid our guide goodbye and left the house through the door seen under the porch in the preceding photograph.  The dependencies in the rear of the house were once devoted to service activities, notably cooking and laundry.

Architectural rendering of the east elevation for the 1984
restoration by Gibson Bauer Associates
Image courtesy of King Manor Association

In its day, King Manor would have been supported by numerous barns, stables, and outbuildings required to house the horses, carriages and buggies, livestock and farm equipment necessary to manage a large working country estate.  These have long since been torn down.

A view of the rear of the Manor, ca. 1936
Image courtesy of N.Y. City Department of Parks & Recreation

And with that I leave you, Dear Reader, with this charming old photograph of a view of the rear of King Manor.  We enjoyed our visit to the house and appreciate that we are fortunate today that it still stands, a stalwart reminder of the dignity and beauty that the countryside surrounding New York City once possessed.

Reggie's appreciation for King Manor, and the preservation of it and other historic house museums found in the public parks of New York City made possible by the philanthropic Historic House Trust of New York, has motivated him to make a donation to the Trust in support of its worthy and laudable efforts.  Should you be so fortunate to find yourself in New York, Dear Reader, Reggie encourages you to set aside an afternoon to visit one of the city's historic house museums, and to consider leaving a contribution when you do so above and beyond the modest admission price in order to help support their ongoing existence.

King Manor Museum
King Park, Jamaica, New York
(718) 206-0545
www.kingmanor.org

New York City Department of Parks & Recreation
www.nycgovparks.org

The Historic House Trust of New York
830 Fifth Avenue, Room 203
New York, NY 10065
(212) 360-8282
www.historichousetrust.org

Reggie's Rules for the Considerate Management of One's Presence When Riding In Elevators

Dear Reader, I realize that it has been rather a long time since I last posted a Reggie's Rules piece.  It's not that I haven't been planning or formulating any such posts, mind you, but rather other subjects have taken the forefront of one's consciousness of late.

"I hear my cellphone ringing!  Should I
answer it, or wait until I've gotten off the elevator?"
Image courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

However, something so egregious happened the other evening while your sainted author was riding an elevator that it has caused him to reconsider his temerity on such matters, and thus resume this series, post-haste.  I cannot remain a stoic silence any longer!  Rules are rules, Dear Reader, and must not only be understood, but also obeyed!

What? you might ask—is there anyone left on the planet who does not understand the rudiments of riding elevators?  How hard can it be?  Surely this cannot be the case, Reggie, as Mr. Otis perfected said vehicle of efficient vertical travel more than 150 years ago!

"No more passengers!  Step to the rear please!"
Source: LIFE Images

Well, one would have hoped the Young Miss who I had the misfortune of sharing an elevator with several evenings ago in the building where I live would have known better than to loudly carry on a tiresome personal conversation on her cellphone for all (notably Reggie) to unwillingly (and begrudgingly) overhear.  Not only was she complainingly blabbing into her cellphone while a group of us assembled to wait for an elevator in the building's lobby, but our Young Miss carried on her tedious conversation while entering the elevator and throughout the journey (but at a higher decibel rate so the person on the other end of the line could hear her better), and continued her honking without pausing for so much as a breath of air upon exiting the elevator and walking down the hall to her apartment.  Those of us who remained on the elevator after her (blessed) departure looked at each other with a mixture of relief and irritation once the doors closed, and agreed that our Young Miss was a thoughtless cretin, indeed.  My only consolation for her rude behavior, Dear Reader, is that it was the inspiration for this edition of Reggie's Rules, for which I owe said annoying cellphone blatherer a debt of gratitude (and a sharp rebuke, I might add, should I ever be subjected to her rude behavior again).

And with that I now share Reggie's Rules for the Considerate Management of One's Presence When Riding in Elevators:

1. When waiting for an elevator, stand to the side so those exiting it may do so unimpeded

It is inconsiderate to block their path by standing in front of the doors, which requires those exiting to "excuse me" their way around you.

Courteous elevator lobby behavior is to be encouraged and emulated
source: LIFE Images

2. When waiting for an elevator, allow those wishing to exit the elevator to do so first before barging in

It is basic good manners to allow them to do so, and eases the flow of traffic.

3. When entering a crowded elevator, say "excuse me" when seeking to find a space

Do not shove your way in, it is not a subway car at rush hour.

"Sorry, Pal, no more room here.  Would ya
 mind waitin' fer the next one, please!"
Image courtesy of United Artists

4. When seeking to enter a crowded elevator, use common sense and judgement in determining whether there is sufficient space to enter it.  Wait for the next one if there isn't

Again, elevators are not subway cars.  Another will come along soon enough.

5. While it is considered polite under certain circumstances to allow ladies to first enter and exit elevators, it is technically not a requirement to do so  

Elevators are akin to stairs and escalators in this consideration—efficiency of movement trumps precedence of the sexes, particularly during busy times of day such as morning and evening rushes, or during lunchtime.  When a crowd of men and women are waiting for an elevator, it is in the best interest of all concerned to resort to a first-come-first-served precedence in order to aide the efficient movement of people on and off the elevator.  On the other hand, if a single man or pair of men and a solitary woman are waiting for an elevator, it is common courtesy for the man/men to allow the lady to enter and exit the elevator first.  Use judgement in such matters.

6. When entering or exiting an elevator in an office building or store, it is not necessary to verbally acknowledge the other people on the elevator, unless one already knows them or the elevator is being run by an elevator operator (a great rarity these days, but it still happens in such places as the flagship store of Tiffany & Company in New York)

When riding elevators in such buildings one should only feel compelled to acknowledge fellow riders one already happens to know (such as a fellow employee or acquaintance), or the elevator operator, since one is expected to inform said operator of the desired floor.  While it is not improper to acknowledge other riders in a public elevator, Dear Reader (particularly if one has made eye contact upon entering said elevator), it is not a requirement to do so.  Again, use judgement in such matters.

"Which way is up, baby?"
Image courtesy of United Artists

7. When entering or exiting an elevator in an apartment building, one should always politely acknowledge the other people on the elevator with a simple "good morning" or "good evening"

Particularly if they live in the same building as you do.  Have some manners, please!

8. Prior to entering an elevator, should you be speaking to someone on a cellphone, end the call with a simple "I'll call you back later, I'm getting on an elevator"

Do not keep up your cellphone conversation while riding an elevator.  It is rude and thoughtless to those who are trapped listening to you (and this applies to you, too, Young Miss!).

"Help! Get me out of here!  She won't stop talking on her cellphone!"
Image courtesy of Universal Pictures

9. Should your cellphone ring when you are preparing to enter an elevator or are riding upon one, either do not answer it, or tell the caller that you will ring them back afterwards

For the same reason as noted in 8, above.

10. When riding a crowded elevator with a loved one, spouse, or friend, do not carry on a personal conversation, but rather wait to resume it once you've exited the elevator

Similar to cell phone conversations, the other passengers on the elevator are not deaf.  You are not riding in a cone of silence!

11. When riding an elevator while listening to music on headphones or ear plugs, do not have the volume turned up to such a high level that others riding in the elevator are forced to listen to the music as well

For the same reasons as in rules 8, 9, and 10.

This woman knows that it is best to wait to speak on
one's telephone until after one has completed one's elevator journey
Image courtesy of Paramount Pictures

12. When riding an elevator with a pet dog (or child for that matter) do not allow it to lunge at the other riders in the car

It can alarm them.  Restrain your dog (or child) for the duration of the ride, please.

And last (but certainly not least):

13. When riding an elevator, one should do one's utmost not to perfume the air with one's flatulent gases, a practice vulgarly (but aptly) known as "crop dusting"

While it may be a relief (and even a source of amusement) for the perpetrator, it is inconsiderate to those who have the misfortune to involuntarily share in such aroma.

And there you have it, Dear Reader, Reggie's Rules for the Considerate Management of One's Presence When Riding in Elevators.

Tell me, do you have any good elevator stories?

Reggie's Five Favorites: Dining in Paris, Part II

This is the second part of a two-part series on the five restaurants in Paris we enjoyed eating in the most during our holiday there in the week leading up to Easter.  I hope you will consider finding your way to one or more of them during your next visit to the City of Light.  If you do so, Dear Reader, please raise a glass to dear old Reggie.

Le Café de l'Esplanade—Chic, of-the-moment café serving an Asian influenced take on the French classiques

The exterior of Le Café de l'Esplanade

One evening, while en route to a different restaurant, we chanced to walk by Café de l'Esplanade.  We were intrigued by its glamorous exterior, with its black facade, white awnings, and café chairs lighted with large black and gilt carriage lanterns.  This was worth a closer look, we thought . . .

The view though the window into the interior of l'Esplanade

Peering through the windows, we saw a dramatic, beautifully-lighted, theatrical interior.  "We must eat here!" we exclaimed (because for us a restaurant's decor is almost as important as the quality of its food).  We slipped through the door, took one of their cards, and made a reservation there for lunch the following day.

The main dining room, a series of enfilades

Café de l'Esplanade takes its name from the Esplanade des Invalides, which it overlooks from its location at the corner of Rue Fabert and Rue de Grenelle in the swell 7th arrondissement.

Of course one must begin one's luncheon
with flutes of pink champagne!

l'Esplanade is an "of-the-moment" place that draws an attractive, well-heeled clientele from the surrounding area, augmented the day we ate lunch there with expensively-dressed business people from the nearby offices.

New York isn't the only city where most of the inhabitants wear black

The restaurant's super-stylish, Napoleon III-infused decor takes its inspiration from the nearby Les Invalides—a complex of magnificent buildings built by Louis XIV and dedicated to celebrating the military history and glories of France.  l'Esplanade's main dining room is a series of enfilades separated by gilt arches with columns in the form of cannons, and chandeliers made to resemble clusters of cannon balls.  So chic!  The originals are found but steps away on the grounds of Les Invalides.

A welcome break from the national cuisine

The food at l'Esplanade is delicious, and more than lives up to the restaurant's marvelous decor.  It features an international menu that includes dishes inspired by those found as far away as Vietnam and closer to home, too.  I started with a delicious appetiser of spring rolls (one of the house's signature dishes) and happily tucked into a lobster and tomato pasta that had more lobster meat in it than I knew what to do with.  I couldn't finish it!  Rest assured, Dear Reader, one can also find the French classiques there, as I espied a nearby table dining on one of the most beautifully-presented steak frites I have ever seen.

Oh, now I get it!

When it came time for coffee, I was not surprised to find the accompanying paper roll of sugar was printed with the word "Costes," given the restaurant's chic interior, eclectic menu, and superb service.  The waiter confirmed that l'Esplanade is indeed part of the Costes Group, famous for its glamorous hotel on the other side of the river favored by movie stars, moguls, fashionistas and late-night denizens of the demimonde.

Le Café de l'Esplanade
52 Rue Fabert
75007 Paris
+33 1 47 05 38 80

Restaurant Paul—Tasty traditional bistro fare in a storied location

The facade of Restaurant Paul
overlooking the Place Dauphine

Restaurant Paul is a charming, quintessentially Parisian bistro tucked away on the Île-de-la-Cité that serves dependably delicious fare of the sort that would have more than appealed to members of the Bon Appetit! generation, and still does in spades to those who beat a path to its doors today.

The front room and bar at the entry of Restaurant Paul

I first ate at Restaurant Paul thirty years ago, and I make a point of returning to it every time I visit Paris.  The grand-mère who once presided over the register up front has long since been replaced by a younger, more winsome host (as has the register been replaced by a laptop), but the food remains dependably tasty, old school bistro fare, and just right.

A sublime first meal in Paris

I enjoyed settling into Paul's comfortable embrace during our first lunch in Paris, when I dined on a highly satisfying meal of oeuf mayonnaise followed by a perfectly roasted halibut served with spinach and sauce hollandaise.  Restaurant Paul is the ideal place to stop into for an unhurried lunch when visiting the nearby Cáthedrale Notre Dame or Sainte-Chapelle, or any of the other surrounding sights for that matter.

Looking out into the back room at Restaurant Paul.  In the "old days,"
when Reggie first dined there, the waitresses wore uniforms, unlike
the young woman in the white sweater who was reciting the day's specials

Restaurant Paul is also just far enough off the beaten path (if you can believe it, given its location) that it is mostly filled during weekdays with regulars from the surrounding courts and law offices, rather then tourists.  If you request a table in the back dining room—seen through the archway in the above photograph—you will be assured of a memorable view out the windows of boat traffic on the Siene.  It doesn't get any more Parisian than that!

Restaurant Paul

15 Place Dauphine

75001 Paris

+33 1 43 54 2148

Please note, Reggie has received nothing in return for these reviews and he doesn't expect to.  He is sharing them with you, Dear Reader, for the sheer pleasure of doing so, which is why he writes this blog in the first place.

All photographs by Reggie Darling