I shall write in a moment about the principal reason people from all over the world visit Normandy, but it is important to remark on what a rich and historic region of France it is, apart from the famous D-Day beaches. Indeed, three of France’s greatest artistic sites are here—Giverney, where Claude Monet lived and painted, the Bayeux Tapestry and Mont Saint-Michel.

    I certainly cannot add anything about the Normandy landings, this year having its 75th anniversary, that isn’t extensively covered in books and guides that describe every detail of the operation that began on the morning of June 6, 1944.  I can comment on the unexpected quiet that pervades this tremendously popular tourist spot. As at monuments like New York’s World Trade Center and Pearl Harbor’s Arizona Memorial, all you hear is the wind. It sounds like reverence. It comes in off the English Channel and rustles the dunes where those brutish, intimidating German bunkers (below) familiar from all World War II documentaries are still anchored, their long guns thrust forever towards the sea.  The wind blows through their ruins, too, reminding me of Shelley’s poem Ozymandias: “Round the decay of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare/ The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

    I was also amazed by how close to the Channel’s water were the palisades and slopes, the x-shaped, so-called Czech hedgehog barriers and those fearsome bunkers.  It seems the beaches were mere yards in depth, and I understood how so many thousands lost their lives so quickly while struggling to get a foothold in the shifting sand.

    And then there are the vast cemeteries with their simple white crosses stretching east and west, north and south, row after solemn row over the soft, well-tended green grass, each marked with the name of a soldier, sailor or airman, a husband, father, son or grandson who gave his life on a  day when more than 425,000 Allied and German troops were killed, wounded or went missing. By now, most of the survivors are gone, too.

    The visitors centers at the various beaches—Omaha, Sword, Juno, Utah, Gold— are each superbly done, with memorabilia, uniforms and flags, maps, recorded interviews and architecture that respectfully echoes the tenor of the events that happened there.

    Normandy takes up a good chunk of northwestern France, and is largely agricultural, with a population of 3.5 million.  (It’s astonishing that the region lost three-quarters of its population during the 14th century Hundred Years’ War).   The Normans were a formidable power, once controlling England, Wales, Ireland, Sicily and other territories. Joan of Arc was burned at the stake in the Norman city of Rouen.

    Among Normandy’s fortifications was the extraordinary Mont Saint-Michel, which, since the 8th century, has been located half a mile off shore, at the mouth of the Couesnon River, whose high tide would block any attempts to mount an effective offensive.  To see it from the mainland is like seeing Kubla Khan’s Xanadu “floating midway on the waves,” now reached by a fleet of shuttle buses that begin at far away parking lots.

    Back in the 8th century, the bishop of Avranches declared that Michael the Archangel directed him to build a church on the mountain, which was to enclose a Carolingian Benedictine abbey and to be a major point of pilgrimage for Christians from all over Europe. In this century pilgrims are joined by mere tourists—more than 3 million each year—so that once on the island, you are in for a steep walk up clogged narrow streets lined with eateries and souvenir shops selling t-shirts and plastic swords.  You’ll find yourself saying “Pardon,” every few feet until you enter the magnificent structure built into the sides of the mountain, clinging so precariously that one section is referred to as “the Marvel.”

    After visiting the abbey itself, there is added pleasure in simply strolling over the salt marshes during low tide, with their glistening, sandy sweep into the ocean that will always return to engulf them. 

    Two other sites of old Norman history are the Bayeux Tapestries (left) in the Musée de la Tapisserie de Bayeux in Bayeux, and the Basilica of Saint Thèrése in the town of Lisieux. Of the first of these there is nothing quite like it in the world: a 230-foot embroidered tapestry that tells the story of the history-changing Battle of Normandy in 1066 between William, Duke of Normandy, and Harold of Hastings, who was killed in action in the field. Believed to be woven shortly after the battle and depicted as a cartoon-like narrative of the battle, the tapestry also  includes scenes of medieval farm life, animals and birds, ending with the first known illustration of Haley’s Comet. The tapestry has long been regarded as one of the most important achievements of western art—evoking the very earliest examples of the cave paintings of Lascaux in southern France—and, by the 19th century, travelers already complained of the length of the queues to get in to see it. So will you.

    The Basilica of Saint Thèrése is a vast structure (right), complete with a large gift shop of mementos, that seems all out of character for a Carmelite nun known as the “Little Flower” for her simple goodness and piety. As a little girl, quite sickly, she claimed that the Virgin Mary appeared to her. After becoming a nun, she turned her own struggles, doubts and afflictions into widely read lessons of humility and endurance that were admired for their clarity and adherence to the true virtues of Christ’s teachings. Dying of tuberculosis at the age of 24, she remarked,  "I have reached the point of not being able to suffer any more, because all suffering is sweet to me."

    More than two million visitors each year come to the small city of Lisieux to visit the Basilica—the second largest religious tourist site in France after Lourdes—which opened only in 1954. Its Roman-Byzantine design echoes that of Sacre Coeur in Paris, shaped like a Latin cross, with an interior that stands without columns and is resplendent with colorful mosaics. The crypt below depicts scenes from the saint’s short life.

 
  There is a great deal more to see in Normandy, not least Monet’s Giverney, which I must save for another time. The region has a long shoreline, a rocky coast and great access to seafood. That, too, will be the subject of another article to come.  

Tuna crudo with radishes

    For several years Bustan, which means “garden” or “orchard,” was among the best and most popular ethnic restaurants on the Upper West Side. Sadly, last year, the interior was engulfed by fire, though the lovely outdoor patio (below) was largely spared. Now re-opened by owner Tuvia Feldman, Bustan has been restored to look pretty much the way it had, and Chef Efi Buliskeria, now joined by Shir Rozenblatt as pastry chef (below), has taken what was always wonderful on the menu and refined and lightened it all with real finesse.

    The menu is still resolutely devoted to the flavors and culinary traditions of North Africa, Italy, Greece and the Middle East, from mezes (or mazettim) to many dishes cooked in a dome-shaped, wood-fired taboon oven.  There is a short wine and beer list on the back of the menu, but a far more extensive and interesting collection is also available.

      The long room and bar off Amsterdam Avenue is done in gem-like hues and glowing, lunar-like wall art. It can get loud, especially with the piped-in music, but the patio now opened is currently one of the most genial and quiet oases from the bustle of the neighborhood.

    The service staff matches the ambiance in both charm and warmth, and general manager Udi Vaknin seems to be everywhere and at every table’s behest.

         At our table we ate extensively from the menu, leaving ourselves in Buliskeria’s hands to choose, starting with an array of mezes ($7-$19), beginning with several spreads that included creamy hummus, crispy falafel and spiced feta cheese and tangy yogurt in a pool of pale golden olive oil.  One of the most distinguishing aspects of Mediterranean cooking are the puffy, yeasty breads of a kind Bustan excels at, and a hot, steamy loaf arrives with the mezes and is replenished throughout the evening.

    More substantial appetizers included a radiant and translucent tuna crudo with tomato seeds, radish and basil ($16), made more savory by the exotic flavor of preserved lemon.  New to the menu is a wonderful eggplant carpaccio ($14) with smoky roasted eggplant, chile peppers, shallots, sesame and herbs. I was duly impressed by a dish of sliced tomatoes with feta, shallots, za’atar, Moroccan olives and fresh herbs ($15), simply because this is June, when tomatoes of this sweetness are not in season. Somehow Buliskeria has managed to find these at their ripest, which I assume are from a hothouse, and they are delicious.

    Plump shrimp were grilled and spiked with fiery harissa, coriander and a lemony tzatziki sauce, with herbed frisee on the side ($19). Grilled octopus (right), as you'd expect, is a first rate rendition.

    The main courses come in big terracotta casseroles draped with pastry dough that puffs up in the taboon. When the dough is removed, the air is suffused with the flavors of whatever has been cooked inside, like chicken Musakhan with tahini, a dried, salted mango condiment called amba, watercress-basil and sumac-spiced almonds ($27); or a sumptuous seafood stew named chraimeh containing tomatoes, sweet red peppers, chickpeas, coriander and tahini ($29).

    There are, of course, kebabs, and one of the best, called halabi, is made in the taboon with roasted onions, tomatoes, chile peppers, pine nuts and tahini ($31). Needless to say, these dishes are made to be shared, and at our table every morsel was lapped up with pleasure.

    Do not neglect Rozenblat’s lovely desserts (all $11), which include laila—a coconut cake (left) made with semolina, Malabi cream, crunchy pistachios and strawberries; kisses—not an Arabic word—which is a custard of baked vanilla meringue, Chantilly cream, raspberry sorbet and mixed berries; nemesis, which is a very rich baked chocolate mousse, salted caramel and chocolate pearls, and ice cream.

    So, Bustan has risen, phoenix-like, from the ashes and emerged all the better, and now sets a new standard for Mediterranean food for all of Manhattan.

Open for dinner nightly; Fri., Sat. & Sun. for brunch.

Hershey’s is adding 25 of “the most popular emojis” to its 125-year-old Hershey Bar. Senior brand manager Kriston Ohm said, "In today’s text savvy world, many conversations start (and end) with an emoji. By adding an emoji design to each pip of chocolate, we hope that parents and kids are inspired to share a chocolate emoji and make a connection with someone new.”

 FUN GUYS OF HOUSTON

“‛Black men, as we know, have been hyper-sexualized as a way of maintaining that fear,’” [Jonny Rhodes of Indigo] went on. “‛And part of that is the idea of giant, threatening black penises.’ It occurred to me that I would never again be able to feign interest in a server's rap about ‛how our menu works.’ Rhodes allowed himself only the smallest smile as the dish was placed before us.On the plate was an inch-long stub of dark sausage.”—Brett Martin, “Best Restaurants 2019,” GQ (May 2019)