If you’re gonna eat, you’re gonna have to walk


My brother’s got me on a vintage television commercial kick lately…

If Dave Lebovitz says it’s good, then it’s got to be so. That’s my basic modus operandi for maximizing what little time I have to explore this culinary capital over the fall season. So far, my strategy has been sound; the bon homme David has done an excellent job of carving a path for me to experience great food that you can’t get anywhere else.

The other day, I decided to seize upon his top recommendation  for getting peanut-infused chocolates right here in Paris- something that every card-carrying American is bound to love. Located just across that little winding river, Michel Chaudun‘s shop is a place that made for an excellent afternoon deviation from schoolwork.

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I walk everywhere in this city, but I really love walking (or running) across this bridge- or passarelle- as it is actually known. The irony is never lost on me that this passenger bridge is named after Léopold Sédar Senghor, Senegal’s first president- who was also a poet. Somehow, all of these components are enormously fitting for someone like me.

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Love padlocks cover both sides of this bridge. Each one seems to bear the names of a couple, and an anniversary of some sort. Apparently these started popping up on bridges in Europe in the 1990s.

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I think that they look kinda cool- a creative act of spontaneous art that gives this bridge a distinctly Euro character. Besides, I’m not one to crack on these testaments to everlasting love.

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Musée d’Orsay just in the background, a bateau-mouche drifting by….ah, la vie en rose.

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Finally over the bridge, and you’ve got our man Thomas Jefferson standing watch. The word is that he always dreamed of coming to Europe, but didn’t get here until a diplomatic appointment in 1784 (at the age of 41). He spent five years in Paris that were arguably some of the most memorable of his life. Shocking

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“Behold me at length on the vaunted scene of Europe!…You are perhaps, curious to know how this new scene has struck a savage of the mountains of America…Were I to proceed to tell you how much I enjoy their architecture, sculpture, painting, music, I should want words. It is in these arts they shine.”
-September 1785 (not much has changed)

Okay, on with my little walk. It’s a beautiful day and I always make an effort to pass down new roads- this usually leads to two things: me getting turned around and digging out my map, and the better payoff of discovering new places. 
On this particular trip, it’s easy to get to Rue de l’Université. It’s not long before I am counting down street numbers and suddenly come upon this sight:

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You know what caught my eye in this window? That’s an easy answer, if you are a Hallinan- it’s the Dremel. All of this stuff, by the way, is made of chocolate, and I kind of feel like Charlie gazing in awe over the loads of amazing creations on display at the start of the movie.

The chocolate ship isn’t that big- and in fact, it’s modest size and location might even tempt you to pass right by the window and head towards the better-known Rue Cler in search of some guaranteed French cliché dining experience. Luckily for me, I’ve done my homework, so I head into the empty store.

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You’d hardly believe that this place is real! Michel Chaudun cut his teeth at La Maison du Chocolat before starting his own business, and with credentials like that, you can bet that this is going to be good. What I didn’t account for in visiting his store was his talent to fuse amazing food with amazing art.

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I love how this place could almost be mistaken for a tchotchkes shop filled with dusty and unwanted knick-knacks. The glorious reality is that everything in here instead reflects a labor of love and passion that assure you that M. Chaudun is in the right line of business.

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Another Dremel, a pair of sunglasses, a Coke bottle….Willy Wonka, eat your heart out!

It’s one thing for the chocolate to look nice- the bigger question of course is obvious…how does it taste? I’m not spending my pennies for some Russell Stover garbage…

Well, since it’s only me, I can’t exactly buy out the whole store and bring it home for a four course chocolate dinner. Well, I probably could, but that would necessitate that I quadruple my daily walks around this city in order to walk off all of the decadence.

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Here’s what I brought home from my day. One had the French version of peanut butter inside (it was very refined!) the other ones had a noisette praline inside….or something like that.

I don’t need to tell you that these three little guys have long-since been consumed, and the quality of the chocolate made my little excursion more than worthwhile. Dave Lebovitz knows how to make my stay in Paris great, and I share the same level of enthusiasm for this city as my fellow countryman hanging out by the Franco-Senegalese bridge.  
I can’t wait to see what the coming week brings.