Mais oui, je suis allé á Le Cordon Bleu

We couldn’t come to Paris without visiting the world-renowned cooking school. Yes, it reminds me of Stratford. It’s small and the techniques of French Cuisine are the main focus. A large overhead mirror allows the Chef to demonstrate while the class takes notes. Students are then left to do preparations on their own. All instructions are given in French and translated into English.

From here we use the efficient metro system to get to the Montmartre District, a bohemian area noted for its sights, shops, food and culture. After some browsing, we sit at a street café, sipping on a beer and people-watching – a little like Time Square without all the lights.

In our final evening in Paris we treat ourselves to a wonderful meal at L’abri Côtier, a fine restaurant, in walking distance from our apartment. The language has never been a problem. We are pretty hopeless at French. However, a few words and gestures spark a genuine interest and encouragement from the locals. We always manage to communicate.

In the morning we leave Paris for Reims (pronounced r-rance) in the Champagne; but not before sampling croissants at a nearby Boulangerie. They were delicious. Perhaps the baker is a Cordon Bleu graduate.