Menu Sixteen

One of the attractions of doing your food shopping at an outdoor market is the likelihood of encountering a vendor with a little personality or a lot of eccentricity. Such is the case in my neighborhood market in Paris, a thrice-weekly event in a small square off the Boulevard Saint-Germain. But the star of the market shows up only on Saturdays. And he shows up whenever he wants.

While other vendors are there by the crack of dawn, The Bird Man of Place Maubert wheels in about 10 A.M. and takes his time setting up, stocking his stand with the ducks, quail, pigeons, guinea hens, poussin, capon, and rabbits he’s raised on a farm two hours from Paris. He has hen eggs and duck eggs, and he even hangs the occasional wild boar or young goat or deer. Then he stacks jars of pâtés and confits and gizzards and duck fat that come straight from his farm.