This last June and July, my wife and I spent a month in Paris, based in a charming apartment located in the 16th arrondissement in the Passy neighborhood on the west side of the city. We dined out daily, were visited by friends, shopped like locals, and in general tried to get a feel for what living in this magnificent city (as opposed to merely visiting it) would be like. Herewith, a journal of our stay, followed by a personal survey of restaurants we’ve loved for years, as well as some new discoveries. See also Bastille Day (and night) at Airelles Chateau de Versailles; When You’re Tired of Paris, You’re Tired of…Paris? and A Parisian Conundrum: Cheval Blanc vs the Ritz.

Friday, June 20.
After we missed our American Airlines connection from JFK to Paris due to a three-hour delay out of Columbus, we switched to Air France the next night, retrieved all the million-plus miles I’d spent on our American tickets, and had a delightful night in New York, stayed at the Lowell and had a wonderful dinner at Majorelle. Best way to make lemonade out of lemons. (Though one hour each way from/to JFK.)

Saturday.
Easy, quick, comfortable flight from JFK to Charles de Gaulle (now being rebranded “Paris International Airport”). Met by an efficient meet-and-greeter from the Ritz, we zip through immigration and wait about 15 minutes for our embarrassingly enormous checked bag (never again). Again, a full hour’s drive from CDG to the Ritz.

Disappointing room, supposedly the same class as the ones we’ve had before, but much smaller, and poorly laid out. Literally no place to store our enormous checked bag (never again). We see our server friend Nicolai at breakfast, then crash for a few hours’ rest, then to dinner at Jean Imbert at the Plaza Athene’ — amazing food, beautiful atmosphere, excellent staff. Fun evening.

Sunday.
After breakfast, who should we see strolling through the lobby of the Ritz but Michael Cohen, Trump’s former lawyer. Pleasant walk through the Tuileries and around the Left Bank. Lunch at the fondly-remembered Les Antiquaires, the Utah Beach oysters not quite as amazing as on our last visit (it’s a Sunday, so perhaps they’re not as fresh). We meet a nice American couple (Max and Gina, from Seattle) at the table next to ours, then back to the hotel for a nap. Dinner that night at Les Parisiens on Rue de l’ Universite’, delightful (see capsule review below). Quick ride home in a Mercedes, check out the wonderful Solstice music festival across the plaza, a Fernet Branca in the bar (after we’re greeted by old friend Philippe (or is it Mohammed?)), and to bed.

Monday.
I feel a sore throat coming on in the middle of the night, and sure enough I’m in the leading edge of some kind of cold the next morning. Always happens. Force myself to eat breakfast, then we’re off to wander down St. Honore’, past the Palace of the Madeleines and the interesting eateries that line it. We end up in the caviar place for lunch, which is a wrong choice. I throw up the vichyssoise in the tiny men’s room, which fortunately allows me to sit on the john at the same time. Awful, but not the restaurant’s fault. I compose myself, finish our meal (the salmon carpaccio goes down a lot easier than the vichyssoise, for some reason), and we stagger home for a nap.

The concierge lady has arranged for dinner at Siena, a nearby Italian place. Thoroughly disappointing, bad pasta, pretentious guests, including our friend Michael Cohen and his family entourage. We leave early, stop at the Ritz bar for a FB, and to bed.

Tuesday.
Moving day. We’re headed for our apartment in the 16th. We repack the enormous suitcase (did I say never again?).

Easy short ride over to the 16th, except the driver ends up at our building number on the wrong street (he blames the Uber app). But he’s helpful and patient as I establish that the unprepossessing structure I’m trying to enter is not, in fact, our apartment building. We drive over a block and voila’, the door opens and there’s Natasja, very tall and perhaps French, to greet us. Very pleased with the stylish, well-appointed apartment, especially the large kitchen and the separate LR and DR, all cleverly and tastefully decorated.

We unpack, and go for a quick walk around the immediate neighborhood, including the delightful pedestrian Rue de l’Annunciation, full of charming shops and restaurants. We end up at the Aero restaurant, opposite a McDonald’s, and just as corporate, for lunch — forgettable.

Home for nap, then off to Le Recamier for dinner — crowded and disappointing, inattentive service and just okay food, not at all what we remember. But perhaps we’re that jaded. Home to TV, FB, and bed.

Wednesday
Tour of the neighborhood this morning, conducted by Karina Clarke, who is personable and fun, if a bit scattered in her approach to introducing us the the lay of the land. A highlight is the RER train station in a nice, park-like setting, where we buy two Navigo passes, though for the life of me I can’t remember where the entrance is afterward. We tour the amazing Rue de Passy, including Passy Plaza, a true French shopping mall, and the “covered” Marche’ fish, meat, and cheese market.

We bid adieu to Karina, and have lunch at the little sushi place up the street from our pad. Okay. Then some grocery shopping, a nap, and dinner at the charming, nearby Bistrot Des Vignes. Delicious Andalusian gazpacho, and pork belly. We’ll be back.

Thursday
We take a delightful walk to the west end of Passy and, on a whim, to the Musee Marmottan Monet, at the edge of the vast Bois Bologne. Easy entry with prepaid tix, much like the Frick in scale, delightful exhibits of every Impressionist known to man or woman.

Then lunch at the so-so, Latin-influenced Andia — bad service in a charming space, good gazpacho and delightful carpaccio of langouste (how is that possible?).

Home to rest, “nap,” then a wonderful private dinner prepared by Brian DeFehr, a charming, handsome Canadian via Chicago and Paris. He brings everything in knapsacks on his motorcycle. Delicious pea soup, followed by a pesto-crusted sea bass with bulgar in tomato, and chocolate cake with strawberry demi-glacé. Relaxing and delightful, he does everything quietly and seamlessly. Later, nightcap FB while I read a long interview between Ross Douthat and Peter Thiel, and to bed.

Friday
A walk to the eastern end of Passy is the centerpiece of our day, with some detours for views of the Eiffel (closer than one would think) and shopping (a polo for me, a couple of blouses for C).

The highlight, though, is an ancient cemetery, the Cimetiere de Passy, near the Trocadero, completely empty but for us, where Debussy and other French luminaries are buried (but not Jim Morrison). Beautiful and humbling.

Then a delightful lunch at La Rotonde — great upscale corner bistro. I get a fix on where the “C” train station is — about a block from our house. Home for a nap, then dinner at the delightful Le Pre Catalan. As refined and welcoming as we remembered, deep in the Bois Bologne, with a lovely courtyard, and new buildings for events. We have a prized table, wonderful service, fabulous 9-course tasting menu.

Saturday
Adventure day: we take the C train (just tap that Navigo pass on the top of the turnstile) from our block to Invalides (as far as it goes on this day, apparently); beautiful double-decker train, a lot of it above-ground, especially as you cross the Seine. In familiar territory once we wend our way to the street (NY habits help), we walk all the way down l’Universite’ to St. Germain de Pres, find the sweet Black lady at the Gien store (like a family reunion), buy some place mats for Brian’s return fete’, and have a great lunch at yet another corner bistro whose name escapes. Some false turns on the way back down SGDP Boulevard, but we find the C train again, wait for its departure, and make it home, quite tired.

Quick nap, then to Fontaine de Mars in an Uber that must take a circuitous route to get around the Champ de Mars, which has been closed for some kind of construction. We’re 10 minutes late but no matter — kindly, overbusy staff seats us at “our” table, and we have a perfectly adequate meal in a charming, if over-childed, atmosphere. Home to bed.

Sunday
Quiet, cool morning. Let’s see what’s open! Surprisingly a lot, but only in the morning. We walk toward the Trocadero, find an amazing, ancient graveyard, including the grave of DeBussy. We have an early neighborhood dinner (La Rotonde) and to bed.

Monday
Our friends arrive tomorrow, so we confine ourselves to a quiet day straightening the apartment, exploring the neighborhood, and provisioning. Many shops closed on Monday as well as Sunday — the French are evidently easing themselves into a four-day work week.

Tuesday
Our friends’ plane is on time so they arrive at the apartment around 11 am. Nice to see them, but they’re exhausted, and the heat wave is moving through Paris. We take them on a tour of the neighborhood, including a peek into the ancient Catholic church, then a nap for all, and a nice if lamely serviced dinner at Bistro des Vignes.

Hot night, we buy an extra fan at the hardware man in the Marche’, throw open all the windows, and sleep fitfully through the steamy evening.

Wednesday
Hot as hades again today. We’re off on a walk to the Musee Marmottan Monet, which we all enjoy thoroughly. Lunch at the new mainstay, La Rotonde. Just okay. Home, nap, then dinner at L’Astrance, delightful, creative food, with a humorous, understated maître d’.

Thursday

Morning of the dog on the balcony across the street. Armed with our Navigo cards, we’re off on the short ride to Musee’ D’Orsay stop on the C Train. First, across the Tuileries to the Place Vendome so B can seek out a bracelet she’s been coveting at Van Cleef and Arpels. High security, but they let us in the non-appointment portion, where we’re hosted by a nice man who declares himself to be in his 40s, is clearly having some sort of midlife crisis, but takes B seriously, researches her bracelet, and finds there is only one in all of Paris, at a VCA branch somewhere in a mall in another arrondissement.

We’re heading back toward the Left Bank when B receives an email from her new jeweler friend, who’s confirmed the bracelet is at the remote branch and hers for the taking. This is too much, so she and J are off on that quest, B asks if we’d like to join it, we decline, and continue on to St. Germain de Pres, vowing to meet there for lunch. We have a nice respite in the Church, then on to a bistro we know. Our guests arrive in due course, and B shows off her beautiful bracelet.

Home on the train, nap, then to Le Recamier in an Uber van (nice). Huge traffic jam trying to get across to the Champ de Mars (already prepping for Bastille Day). On our belated arrival, the restaurant has no record of my reservation (I may have cancelled it inadvertently — too many reservations), but they accommodate us indoors, where the table is lousy and the service indifferent (kind of like last time). We’ll strike this one from the list.

Friday
To the Isle de la Cite’ today, this time via the ever-reliable C train to the Notre Dame stop, visit the restored cathedral (outside only, as it’s thronging), and have a long lunch at a bistro on the Place Dauphine — nice waitress makes it fun. Then back across the Seine to Musee’ Des Artes Decoratifs, less impressive than remembered, and being set up for what turns out to be one of Sophia Coppola’s summer balls. Home in an Uber van.

A niece-in-law of our guests is playing singles at Wimbledon, so I rig VPN and Apple TV to broadcast US ESPN to our big TV. Big success.

Dinner that night at the Meurice, very nice but not quite as memorable as previous visits. Highlight for me is the beautiful bar with live piano-bass duo. Stay here in the future (as I have on business trips past)? As we depart, B takes a pic of the amazing Jules Verne balloon, left over from the Olympics, rising over the Tuileries.

Saturday
Today, the Marais. Train to Notre Dame stop, then a crowded, long, but fun walk into the district. Much shopping. Eventually we get to Place de Vosges and have a nice lunch in one of the place-side bistros. C and I check out the hotel La Pavillion de la Reine, highly rated and looks quite inviting. Back down toward the left bank, but our guests want to see the Luxembourg Gardens, so we split up at the Seine and we come home on the C train, which stops at a Invalides and forces us onto an Uber for the rest of the way home. (Summer work on the RER line!) I run out for some grocery shopping, and there are our dear friends, just off their Uber, coming down the aisle.

Dinner that night was for Fontaine des Mars, but it’s at 7, so I try to cancel but can’t find the original res (turns out Karina made it for us, and emails later to warn me I may be charged). We go instead for an unassuming dinner at La Rotonde. Once again, ridiculously chaotic execution of requested cocktails. On the way home, B spies some old books sitting atop a utility box, waiting for us. She takes one, I photograph another, about Leon Blum, French politician and bon vivant who ended up in, but survived, Buchenwald. Must read more about him.

Sunday
Rainy day. Wonderful mass at the Eglise Notre Dame de Grace around the corner. Like another century, kids screaming and running up and down the aisles, but beautiful.

Lunch at Bois de Vent, a new fav, then packing for our guests, nap, and off by van to dinner Le Petit Retro, retro in every way, and not in a good way. Terrible service and passable food in a cute room that they’re relying on way too much.

In the van to the restaurant, B receives notice that their flight the next day has been cancelled by United, so they get on another one leaving at 9 in the morning, which means departure from the apartment around 5. Casts a bit of a pall over the rest of the evening, but not before a nightcap in the apartment highlighted by battling smart speaker demands for bad 80s music.

Monday
Cool, rainy day. We sleep late, and our guests are long gone when we wake. Some grocery shopping, including dinner ingredients (salmon, string beans, potatoes Dauphinoise) from the Epicerie (formally, La Grande Epicerie de Paris, a three-story Dean & DeLuca on steroids). Lovely “nap” in the afternoon, nice dinner, watch Wimbledon after. To bed; we’re exhausted.

Tuesday
Quiet, cool morning. Hawaiian music on the Google speaker. Louis Vuitton Foundation is tomorrow, not today. So we decide to check out the Brach Hotel up the hill for lunch. Charming decor, good Middle Eastern-influenced food, nice staff; interesting looking hotel in yet another discovered sub-neighborhood of the sprawling 16th.

Dinner that night at Epicure, the superb haute cuisine segment of the Bristol Hotel in the 1st, down the street from the Ritz. From welcoming hostess to funny, charming waitstaff, an unstuffy, fun evening, punctuated by remarkable food. I’ve already waitlisted us for a return before we go home.

Wednesday
A brisk walk east on Passy on another brilliant, weather-perfect day. C buys bras, and I abscond next door to (yet another) Monoprix and find, to my astonishment, the colored pencils C has been seeking everywhere and not finding. I buy two sets, return to surprise her with them in the bra shop, which has turned out to be underwhelming (if underwired). Lunch at the cute La Favorite bistro, good food, would go again. Then off by circuitous Uber through the Bois Boulogne to the Fondation Louis Vuitton, in an enormous Frank Gehry structure in the woods. We’re early, so walk the trails for a bit, then line up for timed entry via rather intense airline-style security. Big crowds. The David Hockney retrospective is immense, immersive and fascinating, multiple huge rooms, each more amazing than the last. The “moon room,” full of dark, beautifully presented nightscapes, is perhaps our favorite, but all of it wonderful.

Easy Uber back to the apt, then, to get in our steps, off to Chanel on the Rue Passy for a different kind of “foundation.” Two hours and 600 euros later, we escape back to the apt for a quick “nap”. Then dinner at Bistro des Vignes, where our nutty waitress attempts to instruct us on how to order a vodka tonic. (Une verre du vodka sur glace et tonic?) Good, solid meal again. Home to FB, TV, and bed.

Note: Summer, we’re concluding, is an utterly amateur time to go to Paris — tourist tsunami, things closing for August soon, the occasional heat wave — but the light of the long, long-lingering dusk — still light at 10 pm — is something we’ve not seen here before, and it’s wonderful.

Thursday
I intend this to be a writing day, but it’s so beautiful out that we must get in our steps. Lunch at the Japanese place, Kura, on the Rue de Boulainvilliers. Just so-so sushi. Home for a little writing and a nap, then to a repeat dinner at L’Astrance. As charming and gastronomically delightful as the first time, with a more diverse crowd and “Mr. Peepers” (later known to us as Dimitri) presiding impishly over it all.

Friday
C discovers an exhibition of Charles Francis Worth and the Origins of Couture at the Petit Palais, so we’re off on the appropriately-named “C” train to Invalides, across the glorious Pont Alexandre’ III to the Grand and Petit Palaises. Beautiful warm day. We’re early, so we rest on a bench and then walk over to the Champs Elysees, all decked out and cordoned off for Bastille Day on Monday. Back to the Palais, and after a short wait on the glorious stairs we’re in this amazing space, and find our way to the nearly empty entrance to the Worth exhibit. It’s amazing, with 19th century gowns of every description, and equally fascinating history. It goes on and on, and eventually lets us out into an equally stunning collection of oversized paintings in the astonishingly high-ceilinged galleries. Magnificent building overall; we’ll be back.

Short wait for the train home, and a much-needed nap. Then to the Brach Hotel via Uber (though it’s close) for dinner; the restaurant has a DJ at work, overloud Afro-disco, and while the server is very nice and produces a good martini, the food is disappointing (I learn again that veal Milanese is not veal piccata). Won’t be back for dinner, though lunch was fine.

Two notes on today’s Paris: more homeless and beggars than I’ve ever seen here (the precedent being zero), and more fat women (though most are maybe tourists?).

Saturday
Another beautiful day; we’ve been remarkably lucky with the weather. A writing and shopping day. After a bit of both, a lovely outdoor dinner at La Bauhinia at the Shangri-la Hotel. View of the Eiffel, great service, excellent food, beautiful ambiance. A drink afterwards in their captivating “botanical” bar. Put this on the list.

Sunday
Shopping for dinner at the Marche’, then a walk up Rue Raynouard, with its beautiful modern and gilded age apartment buildings. After hesitating, we walk down to Balzac’s house and lovely little garden and cafe, the house having been turned into a small, fascinating museum (free). We see his writing desk and manuscripts of La Comedie Humane — wonderful. Skinner beats Alcaraz at Wimbledon while we enjoy a fine dinner at home of skewered beef-kabobs, green beans, and potatoes Dauphinoise. Yum.

Monday
Bastille Day! See an account of our experiences at the Airelles Chateau de Versailles.

Tuesday
Back to Paris, again in less than 25 minutes, and to our now-beloved apartment, some relaxation and errands, and dinner at the nearby, refreshingly unassuming Bois de Vent.

Wednesday
A walking day, around the neighborhoods in and surrounding the Jardin du Ranelagh, and up to the north where we pass the Brach Hotel. Then to the Epicure to pick up lunch (the divine salmon sushi and pickled seaweed side), which we eat at home. Leisurely afternoon of writing (almost finished with the first draft of the new novel, working title Reason to Believe), then a car ride through the rainy dusk to L’Astrance, our new favorite restaurant. Dimitri, the usual maître d’, has suffered a broken ankle (he texted us), but the rest of the staff cares for us in their usual impeccable fashion. Home and to bed, after viewing Trump’s latest antics on CNN.

Thursday
Rainy day, the first in what seems like weeks. We leave Paris one week from today, and our friends D and D arrive today, are staying in an AirBnb on the Champs Elysees (!). We loiter, waiting for the rain to stop, then off on Rue Raynouard and up Rue Benjamin Franklin to the Trocadero. Fun for a few minutes, even with the looming, still-fantastic Eiffel. Lunch by the “flower circle” in an ok Italian bistro with a charming waiter, then home to write and nap. Dinner at the long-deferred Monsieur Blue — only open outside, and quite delightful; comfortable, pleasant ambiance, excellent service, astonishingly good miso sea bass and mille-feuille. We’ll go back!

Friday
Up a little earlier to meet D & D at the Petite Palais for the Worth exhibit, which we all thoroughly enjoy. Great to see them. Warm, sunny day. Lunch across the Seine at the Cafe Bourbon near Invalides, under the umbrellas. Nice service, ok food. Then we separate, DnD to the D’Orsay, us to the train station, but the C train entrance is blocked, so we end up taking an Uber back home. Some writing, a nap, then to Le Pre Catelan where we meet DD for dinner. We’re seated at an overlarge table, dead center in the dining room, and while pleasant enough, and the staff is warm and welcoming, the service is disjointed and slow, and the many courses need more variation in texture and some heartiness. The many dramatic removals of silver plate domes to reveal some undersized scrap of something become almost comical. Three and a half hours and 1900 euros later (we treated, in excessive recompense for D bringing over C’s Adderall), we stagger out to our Ubers and home.

Saturday
Gray, cool morning. Much debate over breakfast as to how to engage with D and D for the remainder of our and their stays. I suggest we all meet Monday night when we’re all “downtown,” as we’ve got to begin to pull up stakes in the apt and have Brian coming to cook us dinner on our last night tomorrow. I write to Natasha to give her our revised schedule — no problem. Suggest dinner Monday night at the Maison Truffle with D and D, which they accept on condition they pay. We’ll see. Then off an a walk in the cool gray day, thought the neighborhood surrounding the park and back to Rotunde for a last lunch there. Back to the apt for rest, nap, and at least thinking about packing.

Dinner at the delightful Settebello, a half block up the street, charming Italian place with a nice small bar and a great Sicilian menu. I have vitello and skate, C has perhaps the best beef carpaccio we’ve had this trip, and a wonderful tagliolini in a hearty meat sauce, which we bring home. Tiramisu for dessert, all great. Wish we’d come here a couple of more times. Back home after, there’s a cloudburst and I think of all the patrons at Settebello’s sidewalk tables.

Sunday
Packing day. Gray, cool morning. An enormous crane has been erected at the corner where a “deviation” for various kinds of pavement work has been going on since we arrived. The crane seems to be servicing the roof of an adjacent apartment building —for what, it’s impossible to know — and I now wonder if the road work was just to provide a stable platform for this gigantic crane. Weird on a Sunday, in any event. I go to the Epicerie for odds and ends, and after self-made lunch we go for a walk down Rue Raynouard, my new favorite address, to the flower circle, then north and back down to Passy. Such fun that we’ve learned the neighborhood so well, and feel so comfortable in it. We resolve to return. Back home, we learn that DnD have spent the afternoon eating and drinking in the rooftop restaurant of the Cheval Blanc Hotel. Glad they found it.

Dinner with Brian again, this time very slow and not as good as the first time. Nice to see him though, and we’ll ask for him next time. A final FB in the apt, and to bed.

Monday
Moving day, again. Rainy, in-and-out morning, final packing. It’s been a wonderful stay in the 16th, and we hope to return.

Back to the Ritz. It’s moving day for DnD today too, to their hotel in St. Germaine. Dinner with them tonight, after drinks with Sumner, Sarah’s decorator friend.

Quick, silent ride in the C-class across the river and back, then lunch in the Bar Vendome while waiting for our room to be ready. And it’s worth waiting for, spectacular view of the garden, otherworldly bath facilities, C in heaven (again). The desk gal tells us the secret code to get into the Hemingway Bar tonight (for real). I’ll tip her well. DnD are at Le Procope, that ancient restaurant we visited years ago, must look it up.

Delightful drinks while getting to know Sumner Hargrove, Parisian veteran (from Austin, TX) and decorator extraordinaire, in the Bar Anglaise in the beautiful Hotel Regina Louvre. Another discovery we’ll have to investigate further.

Dinner with DnD at the Maison Truffle on Place Madeleine; food and wine ok; nice time with them, they’re enjoying their first visit to Paris. Back to the Ritz in time for our appointed time slot in Bar Hemingway. We slip past the waiting line and I utter the secret code to the waiter, and we’re given a charming table overlooking the bustling proceedings in the tiny place. A trio of drunken women are hitting on a trio of diffident men, but we’re happy with our impeccable Fernet Branca and Beluga and tonic (with a rose in it!). Fun end to a delightful night.

Tuesday
Last day in Paris (for a while). Down to a wonderful breakfast in the dining room with Nicolai and the crew. We confirm with the concierge that the monster suitcase will be on its way today (again: never again). Then a walk through the Tuileries to the left bank and down Rue du Bac. We (I) miss Deyrolle on the way down and double back. It’s packed as we’ve never seen it so it’s a strictly ceremonial visit. Then back to the Ritz for C’s massage and our joint haircuts (w a pedicure for C) — what a relief. Guy with the longest hair in Paris cuts mine, wonderful job, accompanied by a delightful head massage during the shampooing and conditioning. Fun, informal staff throughout. Relaxing rest of the afternoon, a quick nap, and to dinner at Espadon, another place in the Ritz we’ve never been.

Spectacular, inventive meal in an utterly charming setting, looking out on the terrace and garden. Delightful service, and at the end we meet the diminutive chef, Eugenie, already with her one star. Great things coming for this place, and it’s wonderful to see how the women working in the hotel are so proud of her.

Back to the Bar Vendome for a final nightcap, and it’s a chockablock scene. Drew Barrymore with a gaggle of underage girls, a pair of hookers being supervised by some guy at the bar, some dude next to us having the most languorous solo dinner ever. We stagger upstairs to our sumptuous bed.

Wednesday
Nice final breakfast with Nicolai and Mohammed and crew. We depart the Ritz a little early, the driver is initially chatty but later just erratically speedy; we get to CDG in 45 minutes.

And are plunged into the utter inefficiently of CDG Terminal 2. Signage is terrible or nonexistent, a dozen airlines’ check-in counters lined up for what seems like miles, nary a tax refund kiosk in sight (and this time we’re alert for them). We check in at Delta One, then finally stumble onto what seems like a gate entry point, but the scanner rejects the barcode on the boarding passes and we’re directed to a different entry point. Then security, which as remembered is a strip-down-to-your-skivvies type of belt-off, liquids-out process — though the security folks are surprisingly affable and good-humored.

Still, a process, and by then it’s too late for the elusive tax refund and the giant retail mall beckons. We make our way through the Tiffanys and Diors to the Air France lounge, to which we’re admitted by virtue of being Delta One. Huge place, seemingly very new, but rather under-provisioned with food and over-provisioned with free alcohol.

Finally to the spacious, modern gate, where the absolutely absurd boarding process begins. No fewer than 10 personnel chat amongst themselves in high spirits as the boarding time slips by, then another. Scads of first class and other passengers standing around with no explanation and, again, inadequate or ambiguous signage. Finally we’re allowed on the jetway, but not on the plane, as cleaning is apparently still underway.

Another ten minutes of standing in line, then into our strange, cramped pods. I’m surprised they’re still flying a vintage 767 on a prestige route like this. Long delay to push back due to rain, runway work, what have you. I begin to calculate the odds of making our connection in JFK. But we’re off, only an hour late. Still, I have questions of Delta: on what airline in first class can’t they provide a tablecloth that covers the meal tray? Yours, apparently. Go take some lessons from Turkish. Dinner, however, was pretty good for airplane food, and a gentle reminder that we are, in returning to the US from Paris, in the process of descending from heaven into the rougher terrain of the real world.

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One of the great extravagances of staying for an extended period in Paris is the opportunity to dine out almost every night and never worry about having to repeat a venue. Favorite restaurants of the trip (unless otherwise noted, all serve uniformly excellent food, but vary only in location, ambiance, and degree of expense):

Espadon – in the Hotel Ritz, opening onto its beautiful garden, this inventive, impeccably serviced haute cuisine restauant is helmed by Eugenie Beziat, one of the few Michelin-starred female chefs in the world. With a wealth of charm, it’s one of the few places like this where you won’t leave still hungry and feeling you’ve overpaid for too little. The grilled oysters with convert the most reluctant shellfish sceptic.

L’Astrance — in the 16th arr., a tiny temple of excellent, inventive dishes and understated, gracious service. Modern decor, seats perhaps 20.

Epicure at the Bristol – another amazing hotel-housed establishment with a beautiful ambiance and inventive haute cuisine; it never disappoints.

Le Pre Catelan — deep in the woods of the Bois Bologne, this is a magnificent spot with a personable staff and excellent cuisine. Service on our second visit was a bit off, so perhaps avoid weekends.

Monsieur Bleu – in the Tokyo Pavilion on Av. New York, it’s a hopping outdoor spot in the summer on the chic patio. Great service for so busy a place, absolutely lovely in nice weather, and the clientele seems to actually care about how they’re dressed!

La Bauhinia at the Shangri-La Hotel — again in the 16th; get at table on the patio in good weather and catch a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower through the trees. Excellent food and service in an exotic, beautiful hotel.

Jean Imbert at the Plaza Athene’ – this one’s more fun to pronounce than pay for. Huge room, tiny though delicious dishes, undeservedly pretentious clientele even by Parisian standards.

Les Parisiens – in the Pavillon Hotel on Rue de l’Universite’, this sweet, unassuming place serves hearty fare that always delights.

Le Recamier – this old standby of ours disappointed in both our visits. Sloppy service, okay food. The old soufflé chef who used to run the place seems to have departed, regrettably. We’ll strike it from the list next time.

Settebello — a sweet find in the 16th. Small room, modern decor, lighthearted service, excellent Sicilian fare. My only regret is that we went so late in our stay and couldn’t repeat it.

La Fontaine du Mars — this red-checked-tablecloth monument to American-baiting French bistro tradition never disappoints – and we somehow always get the same table!

Les Antiquaires – on the left bank, a wonderful bistro at the head of Rue du Bac. The oysters alone are worth a visit.