Snow had fallen, snow on snow
Today it snowed. Thick downy flakes came down steadily and swirled through the streets, eddying in the wind. I took a walk around the Ile de la Cite—everything looked like an enormous snow globe—the spire of Notre Dame disappeared up into the mist and snow gathered on the balustrades of the bridges. I walked down the Rive Gauche to the Pont des Arts, which crosses from the Institute Française to the Louvre to photograph the river. Snow is magically transformative, not only does everything look prettier when covered in snow—like the dusting of icing sugar on the cakes in the window of a patissier—but it also makes the air feel cleaner, and the whiteness of snow imbues everything with a kind of purity. When it snows, the city feels calmer; sounds are muffled and people move more slowly around the streets, as if mimicking the unhurried drift of a snowflake through the air.
I wanted something warming and comforting for dinner to keep the cold out, so I bought a couple of organic chicken breasts from the butcher and made chicken Kiev’s, bringing back memories of childhood. There were ready made ones in the frozen food cabinet in the supermarket of course, but when you make them yourself they’re a different product. I like mine really herby and garlicky, oozing butter onto the plate. I braised a couple of endives to have with it, though with hindsight this was overkill and a simple salad would have been enough. Tomorrow I'll put the recipe up.
This evening to the Paris Philharmonie to see female conductor Laurence Equilbey and the Gulbenkian Orchestra perform Brahm’s Ein Deutsches Requiem, an absolute peach of a requiem. The Paris Philharmonie is worth visiting simply for the astonishing architecture of its new home at the Port de Pantin. I managed to get a ticket to his particular concert through their youth discount scheme, where one can buy tickets for just €8!
