Something of a lighter nature to momentarily distract us.
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CUSTOMERS AND GOODS CROWD TINY ITALIAN DELI IN PARIS

Chicago Daily Herald
By Suzy Patterson Associated Press
Posted on September 26, 2001
 
Sometimes the customers at my local gourmet deli-caterer and charcutier can 
be as riveting as the ham and sausage cuts, cheese and pate in the tiny, 
overcrowded, deliciously tempting shop.

The shop is Davoli, an Italian-accented shoebox-size place known to Paris 
foodies as one of the best sources for great pasta, jars of sauces, top olive 
oils, balsamic vinegar and more.

One day, for example, there among the shoppers was film star Catherine 
Deneuve. The other customers were literally bumping into each other trying to 
get a look, yet avoid staring.

The shop is on rue Cler, a lively market street in the tony 7th 
arrondissement (district), where it is not good form to gape at any of the 
local stars - whether political personages from nearby government buildings, 
or movie luminaries such as director Roman Polanski and glamorous icon Jeanne 
Moreau, who lives a few streets away.

Julia Child has cased this street. So has Princess Marie-Blanche de Broglie, 
an aristocratic cooking teacher, who lives around the corner and shops here 
regularly. But, notables or not, everyone has to wait patiently in line at 
Davoli for their cuts of excellent ham.

But that's only part of the story.

Also on Davoli's menu are dishes fresh-cooked daily at the store. These may 
include beautifully dressed tomato and mozzarella salad; baby red peppers 
stuffed with hot-spicy minced tuna, anchovies and capers; saute of veal with 
vegetables and sauce, spinach-cheese-stuffed ravioli, or tortellini.

Such items may be routine in 'Little Italy' markets in the United States. But 
not in Paris, where the natives prefer fancier Fauchon-style delis. In fact, 
they really don't much like delis, period.

Until they happen onto Davoli, that is, with its offbeat ways and true 
Old-World charm.

Some of the foods offered would seem exotic by American standards: the 
truffled white boudin 'sausage,' made with chicken, or the 'head cheese,' a 
jellied pate affair made mainly from products of that part of calves and cows 
(it's a favorite dish of President Jacques Chirac).

'Caviar d'aubergine' is a year-round favorite. It's a mixture of cooked, 
chilled eggplant, olive oil, a tad of garlic, maybe onion and seasoning.

Davoli's store area is crammed into a space about 20-feet-by-35-feet, stacked 
with a mesmerizing variety of hams, olive oil, fine wines, cheeses and other 
goodies.

'I'm not the chef,' said the store's boss Stephane Davoli, a fresh-faced man 
of 33. His father, Jacques, is at work in the kitchen behind the scenes, and 
his younger brother, Alexandre, shares the chef job with an old-timer, Daniel 
Hamon.

'But I do know about cooking, and have my favorite dishes here,' Stephane 
added, nodding at a delicious-looking lasagne Bolognaise (with spicy meat 
sauce), and recommending the rabbit with prunes, not an offer that day.

Davoli explained that the family business began with his Italian grandmother, 
who married Rino Davoli, a native of Parma, Italy, in 1930. Together they 
started a 'charcuterie' (an establishment that cooks animal flesh, usually 
pork, for pates and sausages) in Paris' 16th district.

'Then in 1963, we moved here to the rue Cler,' Davoli said. 'It is still an 
'Italian charcuterie.' We import our hams and other products from Italy - the 
French have a different standard for curing meat.'

But they also make wonderful French dishes to sell to lazy gourmands. On 
Sunday mornings, shoppers can admire a freshly cooked display from which one 
of the good-humored salespeople, out of a total staff of 16, dispenses dishes 
such as a fine pot-au-feu (classic French boiled beef and vegetables), good 
Moroccan-style couscous, or pigeons with peas. Another time there may be 
stuffed veal roast, or kidneys in cream-mustard sauce.

The dozens of dishes they offer depend on what fresh market produce is 
available. Stephane or his brother regularly go to the wholesale market out 
at Rungis, near Orly Airport, to sniff out the best.

Nearly everything in the store is worth the wait and the price - I usually 
spend about $25 a visit - and that goes for the desserts, perhaps a 
cheesecake, a red-fruit crumble or some wicked chocolate brownie-style sweet.

'The only problem now is the mad idea of the 35-hour week, the French law 
that went into effect last year,' Stephane says. 'We have to close for 2¨ 
days a week to make this work. Nobody really likes it, and it's hard for 
small businesses to make any money at all.'

But the Davolis and their employees still seem to relish the crowds, the tiny 
space and the kibitzing with customers - the faithful clientele who continue 
to pile in for their share of the day's irresistible specials.