for the vinaigrette:

 2 extra-ripe peaches, peeled, pitted, and cubed
 ½ tbsp. whole grain mustard (sometimes sold as Creole mustard)
 ¼ cup chopped chives
 3 tbsp. red wine vinegar
 ¾ tsp. fine sea salt
 freshly ground pepper
 ½ cup peanut oil, or other mild vegetable oil
 1½ cups moderately packed cilantro, or more to taste

for the salad:

 1 large zucchini, cubed
 1 cup freshly shelled green peas, or green beans (use whatever’s still in season)
 ½ cup pine nuts
 2-3 peaches, pitted, halved, and each half sliced into five
 2 cups cooked wheatberries (about 1 cup uncooked)
 2 very ripe, tasty tomatoes
 3½ oz. (100g) smoked, sliced duck breast (magret de canard)
 green salad of your choice, washed and dried well

how to make it:

In a blender or using an immersion blender, combine and whirl the 2 peaches, mustard, chives, vinegar, salt, and pepper. Then slowly blend in the oil, and finally the cilantro. This makes much more vinaigrette than you’ll need, but put it on the table for those who want extra on their salad.

Lightly steam the zucchini and peas or beans, about 8 minutes. Remove the vegetables from the steamer and let cool slightly in their basket. Heat the broiler to medium, if you have a choice. Otherwise, position the rack a little lower than you would for immediate melting purposes, about 6 inches below the heat. On a baking sheet, toast the pine nuts lightly, tossing them from time to time – this shouldn’t take more than 4-5 minutes. Remove the pine nuts, and then place the sliced peaches on the baking sheet, and pass them under the broiler for between 5-10 minutes – the time will really depend on the strength of your heat. The peaches should begin looking crinkly and slightly brown and caramelized. Remove from heat and let cool.

To assemble the salad, combine in a large bowl the cooked wheatberries and still-warm zucchini and peas or beans. Cut the tomatoes into cubes, and add them to the bowl with 1/3 cup of vinaigrette. Add half of the pine nuts to the mix and stirr well. If you have a small bowl or a large ramekin (1 portion size), fill it with the salad mixture, pressing with a spoon to pack the salad into the dish. On each person’s plate, lay out a bed of green salad, and unmold the wheatberry mixture in the center. Sprinkle the plate with pine nuts, arrange slices of duck breast around the composed salad, and decorate the top of the composed salad with four or five broiled peach slices and a spear of chive or a few cilantro leaves if you like. Pass extra vinaigrette at the table for the green salad bed. Serve the salad with whole grain bread and perhaps some fine cheeses, although I’ll forgive you for abstaining from gruyère just this once.
 
 makes about 1½ cups vinaigrette; salad makes 4-6 servings

 In 1183, Philippe Auguste built the first pavillon des Halles in its current location. But it wasn’t until 1851 that the architect Baltard constructed, somewhat begrudgingly, the grand marketplace so colorfully described by Emile Zola in Le Ventre de Paris. Apparently Baltard’s designs were modified so many times that what eventually became the grand iron-fashioned covered market bore no resemblance to Baltard’s original plans. But the structure, a "gigantic metal stomach...bolted, riveted, with so much wood, glass, and cast iron," was surrounded by specialized market streets devoted exclusively to salt cod, hemp, or fresh pork, for example. Zola also described a "sea of vegetables" that stretched from the end of St. Eustache church to the rue des Halles.
 
 But the city’s population quickly outgrew Les Halles’ capacity to provide Parisian retailers with sufficient foodstuffs. If there weren’t enough provisions to go around, merchants could have chalked up a few cartloads of missing vegetables to the hungry rodent hordes, but by 1969, the decision to move the wholesale market out of Paris had long been finalized. There was just one problem: all those rats would be divested of their night jobs, and city officials feared the worst. Just ask any Parisian who’s suffered through a building demolition in their neighborhood: they’ll tell you not only of the infernal blasting and invasive dust, but also about the aftermath of suddenly scattered rodents. Those sans domicile fixe, or homeless, have to go somewhere when their dwelling is destroyed, right? Likewise, take away a rat population’s usual quota of market leftovers, and they’ll soon be burrowing high and low into surrounding areas, spreading like....well, the plague. And that’s exactly what city officials dreaded in 1969, since the basements of Les Halles reputedly harbored over 300,000 rats. According to the eastern Parisian-born author of The Road to Rungis, the rats would have invested surrounding buildings "with hunger in their stomachs and anger in their hearts." I think I’d have to pass on hosting a housewarming party.
 
 Even despite officials having put into place a massive attempt at deratization, the rodents remained, and the move to Rungis proceeded full speed ahead. Strangely enough, the rat hordes disappeared right around the time of D-Day with no real effect on neighboring areas, and officials are still perplexed as to where all those rats ended up. Christian Léourier’s novel presents one theory: those hungry rodents also hit the highway, or the low-way, as it were, and emigrated to Rungis. In 1975, a total refurbishment of Les Halles began, and the former marketplace was transformed into what architects like to call a millefeuille or layered napoleon. But an aerial view of Les Halles shows a deep pit with windows falling inward and downward, and to me it looks more like a spectacular rectangular waterfall.
 
 The former palace of conspicuous consumption has deteriorated to shabby shopping mall, and Les Halles is currently slated for another renovation. Nowadays, the fauna you’ll see around the mall isn’t of the subterranean sort, even if my friend Nico calls them la faune, referring colloquially to the similarly-dressed set that prowls the outskirts of the shopping center, exchanging money for small foil-wrapped packets of shit, or hash. The indigenous garb includes horizontally-striped sweaters – fuchsia and white, mauve and white, or baby-blue and white – tucked well into faded jeans, with the aim of displaying a knock-off designer belt buckle. Once, I noticed some rowdy locals on the rue Berger side of Les Halles: pointing to one member of the clan, they were all doubled over with hoots and guffaws. When I took a closer look, the object of their ridicule was the only guy who wasn’t laughing: he wore a rectangular belt buckle whose letters spelled out HANEL, but the H was curiously askance. Apparently the C had gone missing in action, and with it, the boy’s sense of humor.
 
 Rip-off designer-wearing fauna aside, the mystery remains: where did all those rats go in 1969? Perhaps they were sent packing with Neil and Buzz that summer, to lend their expertise to a giant sphere of green cheese. But with 1800 kilometers of sewers and more than 200 kilometers of metro networks, as well as innumerable quarries, caverns, catacombs, and other hidey-holes, Paris has plenty of room for all kinds of underground city fauna. And of course Christian Léourier would remind us that subterranean Paris just happens to look like one huge block of gruyère.