This morning was my first morning in Paris. I had planned to focus on getting my residency permit and the French phone number that I’ll need in order to start applying for apartments. But last night I thought what I really wanted to do was go to the Bastille food market, especially as it only happens twice a week, and Thursday is one of those days.

I woke up quite early and went for a quick stroll around my neighborhood in the 11th arrondissement as it was still too early to start heading to the market.

Around 7 am, I headed out into the light drizzle to stroll down. When I got there, the vendors were still setting up their stalls, even though it was half an hour past the official opening time.

So I wandered through the market. I always like to go through once to see what’s available, what looks good, and then I go through a second time to buy. The market is three or four blocks long and has three aisles, so it took a bit to make my initial survey, and by that time some of the stalls had started opening up.

I loved the beautiful fruit and vegetable displays. At the fishmongers, I admired the glistening scales on the fresh fish, the prawns and langoustines and sea snails, the mussels and clams and oysters, the fresh scent of the ocean. The diligent white-haired butcher carefully slicing and trimming the cuts of beef. The aroma of roasting sausages and whole chickens as I walked past another butcher’s stand.

I had an idea of making a warm goat cheese salad and also some kind of vegetable soup. So at one produce stall, I got a bulb of fennel, a small zucchini, a bunch of shallots, a leek, a head of oak leaf lettuce, and a couple Rubinette apples. At another, I got parsley, chives and thyme. At another, a half dozen eggs. And then finally a bunch of delicate pale green grapes. All for about 15 euros ($16-17). It felt like a steal.

After that I stopped at an organic grocery for a few more supplies, a butcher for a terrine of shredded chicken breast in lemon aspic and a salade piémontaise — potatoes, ham, hard-boiled eggs and sliced pickles in mayo — and a bakery for a rustic baguette. And that was lunch.

And as I write now, a soup is simmering on the stove with the zucchini, fennel and leek I picked up in the morning, and I’ll garnish it with some crème fraiche and the herbs, and eat it with the baguette and some cheese and a sauvignon blanc from the Loire Valley.

In between, the residency permit and the French phone number got done. And I still got to do one of my very favorite things, shop at the markets and put together some simple but delicious food.