Paris, Day Five: Sainte-Chapelle, the Best Lunch of My Life, and The Turkeys

Planning a Paris trip? This is Day 5 in a series recapping our ten-year anniversary trip, neighborhood by neighborhood, meal by meal, with the honest version of what made the list and what we actually did.

What I Had Planned

The original Tuesday plan was built around two things I'd been most excited about all week: the d'Orsay and Sainte-Chapelle. By Monday night, both were sold out. So I made a new plan.

The plan I went to sleep with:

• Get to Sainte-Chapelle at 8:30am and try our luck without a ticket
• E. Dehillerin (the kitchen store)
• Lunch at Le Bon Georges, reserved for 12:30pm
• Try to walk into the d'Orsay after lunch and hope we could get in sans reservations
• Maybe squeeze in a pharmacy run to tackle my prepped skincare shopping list
• Shop for butter at La Grande Épicerie
• Dinner at Octobre, reserved for 8:30pm

What Actually Happened

I woke up cautiously optimistic. If we made the d'Orsay, we'd make it. If we didn't, the d'Orsay isn't going anywhere. Paris will still be there.

We walked to Sainte-Chapelle by 8:30am, stopping on the way for a croissant and a flat white at Liberté Café — genuinely excellent croissant, passable coffee, perfect for walking fuel. Another blissfully sunny day, and with a fresh start, our spirits were high and our hopes were up.

At the chapel, we found a small cluster of confused tourists being sorted into ticket-holder and non-ticket-holder lines. We were in the first ten of the non-ticket line. We watched the 9am group enter, a handful from our line included. Then the 9:30 group was allowed in early. We wondered, genuinely, if we would ever get in.

And then they let us through.

Security here was stricter than the airport. Nathan's jean button triggered the metal detector. We were committed to seeing this chapel. 

At this point, if the man had to take off his pants to see it, we were in it to get in. Thankfully, pants stayed on.

We walked through the lower level (which is under construction, so for a brief terrible moment I thought that was the whole experience) and then found the teeny tiny staircase. A very narrow staircase built for 13th-century people, which meant that modern adults of average height need to crouch. No one cared. We were in.

The upper chapel is extraordinary. Approximately 70% of the glass is reportedly original to the 13th century. If that doesn't baffle you, I don't know what would. 

The scaffolding for current restoration work is covered in mirrors, which helps preserve the viewing experience in a clever, thoughtful way. The light through the windows shifts as you move through the space. I stood there for longer than I'd planned.

It felt like a genuine win, getting in without a ticket after the previous night's worry.

The Cookware Store of My Dreams

Some people come to Paris and want Louis Vuitton. 

I wanted E. Dehillerin, Julia Child's favorite cookware store, which has been operating since 1820 and is the most perfect cramped aisles of every possible kitchen tool you've ever considered or never considered needing.

We went early, before crowds, which I'd recommend. 

Armed with a fresh pharmacy success (I'd ducked into Les Halles City Pharmacy on the way, pulled out my pre-researched list, and crossed items off with what I can only describe as professional efficiency — more on the full pharmacy haul in a dedicated post), I arrived at E. Dehillerin in a state of maximum purchasing readiness.

I left with two different whisk sizes, a wooden spoon, a shamrock cookie cutter, an offset spatula with a beautiful wooden handle, and one piece of copper. 

I couldn't leave without copper. 

I chose a small pudding mold that will work perfectly for Thanksgiving cranberry sauce and can live on the wall as decoration the other 11.9 months of the year. It was gleaming in the Paris sunlight and it needed to come home with me.

One thing I wish I'd also grabbed: strainers. They had several. Add those to your list.

Everything was wrapped beautifully in brown paper with a branded sticker and packed into one of their canvas totes. Detax form in one hand, shopping bag in the other. I was very happy.

Quick note on detax: Ask for it when you begin checking out at any shop. You'll need your passport and credit card. They fill out the form and give you a printed sheet with a barcode you take to the airport and scan at the PABLO kiosks before security. Very easy, genuinely worth doing.

Le Bon Georges

I need to give this restaurant its own section because it deserves it.

Le Bon Georges was named one of Paris by Mouth's top 50 restaurants. I'd seen plenty of content about it. I expected it to be good. I did not expect it to be in my top meals of all time.

The restaurant is exactly the Paris restaurant experience you hope for: small, intimate, all the menus handwritten on chalkboards in French throughout the space. If you can't see a board from your table, the waiter brings a three-foot chalkboard to you. The menu is short and precise.

I went in knowing I wanted the steak frites with au poivre sauce. Nathan saw duck on the menu and his decision was made. 

A couple at the next table (an American now living in France with her French partner) confirmed our choices were excellent and added that the asparagus was not to be missed. So we got that too.

Nathan asked for the wine list, and the waiter produced a tome. "Lugged" is actually the correct verb. 2,000 bottles on the list, stored underground, per our very friendly waiter. We managed to choose a glass.

The food was transcendent. The asparagus came in some variety of butter and what I believe was a light mayonnaise situation that I would describe as being sent from the clouds. 

The steak: I nearly licked the plate. 

The frites: 10/10. 

I was also riding the high of E. Dehillerin and a sunny Paris morning, which probably helped, but I think this meal would have been top three regardless of context.

If I go back to Paris (and I will) I would return to this restaurant. Not really a restaurant-repeater if I can help it, so that's saying something.

The d'Orsay Miracle

Full of food and optimism, we crossed our fingers and walked to the Musée d'Orsay.

There was a separate line for museum pass holders without a time slot. There was no one in it. We walked right in.

I don't know if 2pm helped. I don't know if it was luck. I don't know if it was a French miracle. I'm not asking questions.

The d'Orsay is an incredible museum — the building alone, a converted train station, is worth seeing. But my absolute favorite discovery was entirely unexpected.

Monet's painting, The Turkeys.

Yes. Turkeys. A whole painting of them, in his loose, light-saturated style, the colors doing what Monet's colors always do. Writing this post a week later, I still think about this painting. I want this painting. I want to try to recreate it so I can understand how he made it. There's something about copying the work of great artists (actually sitting down to do it, rather than just looking) that teaches you things you can't access any other way. I've noticed it with architectural drawing too: when you take the time to draw something from observation, you start to understand relationships and proportions that you'd never see just by looking. The doing reveals what the seeing misses.

I picked up the matching d'Orsay painting book to go with my Orangerie one. I now have a matching set.

After the museum, we stopped into Sennelier just to feel like Monet and Picasso, browsing for supplies. My supply cabinet at home is full, so I was in observation mode only. Go upstairs — it's multi-level.

Butter. A Lot of Butter.

Have you seen the videos of people at La Grande Épicerie buying butter, getting it vacuum sealed, and taking it home in checked luggage? I am now one of those people.

I found the butter wall and selected five different varieties. I also came home with mustard, jams, cookies, and chocolates, plus a few things for Bonnie hidden away for Easter. Full haul post in the works!

I think the person doing the vacuum sealing genuinely hated to see me (and any other tourist) coming, but self-conscious or not, this American was taking home some French butter.

Truly, the level of despise on their face was worthy of an SNL character. 

We also crossed the street to Le Bon Marché for more toy shopping. Better toy selection than Galeries Lafayette, better vibe. We found Bonnie a small sparkly purse. They also had a section for Marin Montagut, which was a nice find if you never made it to their shop location.

Octobre

We walked back to the hotel, stopped for a warm cramique on the corner (obviously), opened the windows, and watched the street below while we rested before dinner and lamented about how great of a last day it was.

My sister-in-law had been in Paris three weeks earlier and confirmed Octobre was excellent — she'd chosen it for her own birthday dinner. Good boots on the ground.

We did the tasting menu with a shared wine pairing. Six courses. Every single one was delicious, the service was warm, and we were a short walk from the hotel. A completely right choice for a final dinner.

Wednesday: Departure

Early flight. We collected our butter from the hotel concierge's freezer (bless them for keeping it frozen) and headed to the airport. We used saved points for business class on the way home, which made a 10-hour flight feel like a short amount of time. I even typed the draft for all of these posts on the way back!

The trip was everything I'd hoped it would be, with a few unexpected gifts (the weather, the d'Orsay miracle, the turkey Monet) and a few expensive lessons (70-euro metro fine, train cancellation, d'Orsay pass change, the night I set my white noise to not-loop). I came home with copper cookware, five types of French butter, a small art book collection, and a very clear list of what I'd do differently next time.

Which means I'm already planning next time.

Next up in this series: the full recommended Paris itinerary (what I'd actually tell you to do), the complete food guide with map, and the full shopping haul.

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