When I entered the small but well-stocked Barthélémy cheese shop in Paris’ trendy 7eme arrondissement, two salesladies were chatting, no one else in the store. In my halting French, I asked, “Can you help me, please?” One replied, “Perhaps.” And so began a somewhat rocky exchange. The details, somewhat frosty, are unimportant when set beside the results shown here. I’d explained that I was in a hotel, that I had no kitchen, that I wanted to try some cheeses. And that’s pretty much what happened. Along with some bread I picked up at Poilâine, I was able to sample some Camembert, a Vacherin and some third kind. Chèvre or goat, I think. (Later, a friend explained a possible reason for les madames’ haughtiness: “Catherine Deneuve shops there.” So what?)
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