Here is an assortment of smells, with a few other senses tossed in:
To me, the waft from a fromagerie is heaven, but some people might label its moist, pungent mold and aged milk smell as hell. Keeping cheese is an art the French call “affinage,” and a good cheese store has a basement with each cheese inspected regularly to see if it needs turned or painted or moved to a drier or wetter shelf. Fostering cheese is a real art, and a smelly one that no amount of Glade plug-ins could overcome. Not that you’d want them to.
Where I’m staying, church bells sound the quarter hour from 8 a.m. to 9 p.m. with a brisk one-two clang for every fifteen minutes past the hour. I love these bells. They tell me how long I’ve been in bed or if it’s time to think about lunch. Why don't we have more bells in the United States?
A special perfume lurks inside a warm, fresh croissant. Pull the tender-yet-flaky end from a croissant, and you’ll extract a buttery soft bite of the pastry’s innards at the same time. I know you want to plunge it straight into your mouth, but smell that buttery, yeasty crumb. It sure goes well with coffee.
The florist shop on the corner moves its inventory to the sidewalk during the day. On the way to the metro, I can smell the shelf of gardenias as I marvel at the 80-year-old potted grapevine and the table of goofy dahlias.
In a bar on a side street in Belleville, a man brings fresh cakes twice a week. He also brings his Jack Russell terrier, and the both of them sit at the end of the bar, one enjoying a beer, the other waiting for bits of dog biscuit. “Elle est very chouette,” the man says of his dog.
A hot bath with Chanel No. 5 bath oil is one of the best ways to end the day, especially if you’ve been walking for a good chunk of it.
Note: top image is Croissant [cropped] by Glen Scarborough at flickr; some rights reserved.
Thank you for posting these Paris Smell Diaries, Angela – they have been so fun to read. Wish I were there!
Thank you! I’m glad you enjoy them.
I agree!
Thank you!
Hi Angela! I meant to comment yesterday about the smells of buildings. My grandparents’ farm house in Ireland smelled of burning peat logs, which my grandmother used in her big, cast-iron stove, which was also a major source of heat in the house. There was no central heat, just fireplaces and that stove. The only fireplace that really got lit was the one in the lounge. Every now and then, I will catch a whiff of something burning that smells just like those peat logs and it takes me right back.
I made my first stab at homemade cinnamon rolls this past weekend. They didn’t turn out quite as well as I wanted (some tweaking to do), but the kitchen sure smelled good!
Oh, I love the idea of the scent of peat, even though I’ve never smelled burned peat! I can imagine, though, how it would take you back.
Of course, the smell of cinnamon rolls must be the best of all!
I almost forgot–in about 2000, we got to go to Bavaria. On our way to the town where we were staying, our friends stopped at a kaeserei (a German fromagerie). The smell just about knocked you over at the door and was so pungent that my husband couldn’t go in. I don’t recall buying any cheese, but they did sell the most fabulous homemade yogurt. Hazelnut was my favorite.
Can you imagine what the workers smelled like at the end of the day? And the hazelnut yogurt sounds terrific!
Thank you for the wonderful reports from Paris. Today’s post makes me wish I could join you! Sounds like a great experience!
I wish you could join me, too!
I’m loving these stories, and count me as a huge fan of French cheese: the smellier the better.
I just went to the kitchen to make coffee and saw that last night’s cheese, a plump reblochon, has “relaxed” in a delicious sludge.
Reblochon is very good. I love it melted on potatoes.
Oh, that sounds so good. I might need to go buy some potatoes.
I’ve only had the pleasure of visiting Paris once, but these entries are bringing it all back to me so vividly. Perhaps it’s time to book another trip!
Why not? It’s a good way to support the country, too, after everything it’s been through over the past few years.
That is so true!
It’s been so long since my one, short trip to Paris that I don’t remember once. But I can still recall being transported by the aroma of the cheese section in the Galeries Lafayette food court in Berlin. Mmmmmmmmmmm!
It might be heresy, but I think I like cheese even better than pastries!
I do too!
I’m sure we’re not alone, either.
Thank you for these virtual Paris visits Angela, really lovely. Tres chouette! (I had to look it up, I think my dog is very chouette as well!).
Isn’t chouette a great word? I love it.
We still have church bells here in Montreal near my flat, although not every day, mostly on the weekends. We also have lovely buttery croissants and stinky French cheese. It’s not Paris but it’s a good substitute while I’m waiting for next year’s trip.