My beautiful Ile St Louis.
Or as les enfants, the children, call it: Island of Ice Cream.
Ile de Glace.
(Our apt is at the oh so quiet east end, right side of this painting.)
Lilly packed loads of back to school prep for our trip – and these to do white boards are used with military precision for our weekly and daily schedules.
To do: Ice Cream.
When I can finally bear to tear away from the gorgeous turn of the century design and details inside of this glorious apartment…
This hangs above our bed.
An illustrated map of Paris from 1576.
My how she’s changed…non?
So, as I was saying, when we can all peel ourselves away and outside…
And even then, once outside our front door, I can hardly stop from staring at every single staircase detail…
Down we go, along the one main street, picturesque Rue St Louis en I’lle.
Arriving into the land of ice cream.
But not just any ol’ ice cream.
The ultimate, end all be all mac daddy of ice cream.
The lines for ice cream at each window can be thirty plus people deep.
And, believe me, it is worth it.
(although, a tip, the lines at the quieter east end of the island, on Rue des deux Pont are always the shortest).
Caramel Beurre Sallee – translated to Caramel Butter Salty – is insanely delicious.
Framboise a la Rose is raspberry rose.
Parker religiously (and this ice cream, is in fact, a true religious experience, ahem) orders Framboise et Vanille.
Lilly is true to her Framboise Vanille Chocolat.
Just as it should be, since:
L’été est la crème glacée!
Summer means Ice Cream!