What Les Philosophes Can Do for a Sore Throat

(10/28/22) Denial is a powerful thing, but our brains can only tell ourselves that lie for so long before our human bodies take over and the truth reveals itself. I have been feeling a tightness in my throat since before we left home. I had told myself that it was a case of nerves, excitement, or that maybe I had strained it in an overly intense fit of coughing. But by Friday morning, the tightness has developed into a scratchy soreness that I can’t deny. I have had laryngitis before, so I recognize the feeling and know what’s coming.

I also have to acknowledge the irony in the situation, as my voice rapidly fades into a whisper – how would I communicate in French, as Bob’s able interpreter, if it had to be done in a chuchotement? It’s difficult enough to pronounce those nasals and the dreaded French “r” when one can speak at full volume!

I make a quick dash to the pharmacy on the corner, where I describe my by-now-self-evident ailment to the woman at the counter, and return to the apartment with throat lozenges and a syrup for sore throat. While I know that only time can truly repair my lost voice, I’m determined not to allow this bump in the road to cause us to lose our momentum. This is only our second day in Paris, a little laryngitis isn’t going to get in my way!

By now it’s lunchtime, our growling stomachs are only increasing our drive to get out and experience the city. We enjoyed our breakfast in the apartment hours earlier – my absolute favorite, pain au chocolat, a crispy, chocolatey compliment to Bob’s chausson aux pommes, an equally flakey, apple-filled turnover, all washed down with Nespresso coffee from our handy coffee maker, aka the most valuable appliance in the apartment.

We don’t have to go far, just three blocks further north into the Marais, to find one of our favorite restaurants, Les Philosophes. Owned by restaurant group Caféine, comprising three additional establishments including the petite-in-size-but-huge-in-the-French-charm-department Au Petit Fer À Cheval, referring to its horseshoe-shaped zinc bar, Les Philosophes is arguably the anchor restaurant of the neighborhood. The name, The Philosophers, refers to the location’s prior role as a regular haunt of local workers in this historically Jewish quarter, to include, allegedly, the likes of Leon Trotsky. Extremely French in the classic sense, from the warm, wood-paneled interior to the aproned and energetic servers to the menu full of traditional French dishes, served very fresh and very tasty, this place is a magnet for tourists and locals alike.

I dive into my confit de canard, the wholly satisfying, completely decadent dish of duck leg, prepared to crispy perfection by deep frying…in duck fat. This is a guilty pleasure with few equals. Bob’s steak is juicy and, happily, à point or medium rare, as requested. It’s nice to know you can get a steak here that’s truly à point and not bloody rare, as has been our experience in other locations in Paris.

We are seated outside, which, on this block, on this warm autumn day, is a delightful prospect. I have the facing-out view, while Bob gets to watch the goings-on in the restaurant through the plate-glass window behind me. While very close to our neighbors’ tables on both sides, we are not bothered as we easily strike up conversations and learn that they are a 50/50 mix of English-speaking tourists and locals…who also speak English.

One can get pretty much anywhere and do almost anything in Paris with very little French. I would not take this for granted, however, as I believe that all of us, no matter the nationality, will appreciate and warm up to the newcomer who shows that they have spent the time and effort to learn the language of the place they are visiting. Even if that includes just the simplest phrases of greeting and thanks. It’s not difficult to see how Parisians could have developed a reputation for curtness when dealing with tourists, but it is likewise not hard to understand why someone could lose their patience when confronted with the millions of eager visitors who arrive in their beautiful city every year, virtually unprepared to deal with the surprising differences among our respective cultures that quickly become evident. The first step for a visitor to France is simple. Always, always greet them with a “Bonjour!” Bonjour will take you further than you realize.

My throat may still be sore and I probably won’t have a voice tomorrow, but I can forget those things for now and enjoy our delicious lunch and the view from the terrace of Les Philosophes.