Belleville Revisited

I returned to Belleville in the 20e Arrondissement yesterday to visit Bibliothèque Couronnes, a medium-size Paris municipal library (More about that in the previous entry) at the Couronnes (crowns) stop on the 2 line. I had been in Belleville once before where I had a very good dinner in a Chinese restaurant in a part of quarter near the Belleville stop that is home to many Chinese and Vietnamese. The food was steamed and brought to the table in a stack of baskets.

Bibliothèque Couronnes is in a working-class neighborhood with a large population of Arabs and Jews from North Africa and immigrants from former French colonies in Sub-Saharan Africa. The flavor of the neighborhood is decidedly North African. In some ways it reminded me of the northern reaches of Steinway Street in Astoria, Queens, only much larger.

I walked through the street market along Boulevard Belleville, not as large as the Marché Bastille, but still one of the largest in Paris. The sardines were tempting. I seriously considered buying some, but then decided I didn’t want to buy flour to dredge them or oil to cook them in. I bought Brussels sprouts and potatoes instead. I will eat them with the ribs I bought at the Marché Bastille, which were not, by the way, fully cooked. But I mijote’ed them (to coin a Franglish word) for about two hours the other evening until the meat nearly fell off the bone. They taste just like the corned spare ribs I ate as a kid and prepared again about six months ago in New York. (Leave the ribs in a brine of one pound of kosher salt for every five quarts of water for a week. Remove from the brine and simmer (or mijotez) in fresh water for about two hours.) All I have to do is reheat and eat with the vegetables.

The most memorable meal in Paris to date was the grilled duck breast with fig sauce served with a gratin of potatoes on a street in the 10e along the Canal Saint-Martin. This was preceded by escargot, eaten with good red French wine and followed by Tarte Tatin. I’ll recreate that one when I go home (probably without the snails).

The library is across rue des Couronnes from Parc Belleville, a park with many trees and flowers on the side of one of the few hills in Paris.





There is a sweeping view of the city from the top. I especially liked the sign giving recognition to the gardeners who maintain the park.




Loosely translated, it said “Welcome to our gardens. A Team at Your Service: the Gardeners. We work to enhance your daily life. The gardeners maintain the green patrimony of the city of Paris in the parks, gardens, woods and public spaces… The gardeners plant the flower beds and the vegetable gardens, and apply themselves each day to making the gardens more attractive… Thanks to their work everyone benefits from the pleasant gardens and colorful flower beds. Thank you to those who help them with their mission and respect the parks and the botanical creations.”


I saw a motorbike accident in Belleville. I wonder why I hadn’t seen one before. Motorbikes are everywhere—even on sidewalks. I was surprised to see them speeding between the lanes of traffic on the expressway on my way into the city from the airport on my first day. A motorbike had apparently struck an old man crossing the street. The motorbike was damaged. Several people were helping the old man who was bleeding from head wounds. Just after I came upon the accident an ambulance arrived.

I’m going to a concert of music by Camille Saint-Saëns and Maurice Ravel by l'Orchestre National d'Île de France at l’Eglise St-Eustache on Friday night. This ought to be good. St-Eustache you may remember if you read an earlier blog entry is the Paris church with the organ that shakes the rafters.