November 08 7.0 What on earth is going on in the 15th?: another revelation! Jadis, 208, rue de la Croix-Nivert in the 15th, 01.45.57.73.20, closed Saturday lunch and Sundays with a menu-carte of 32 € was written up first by Emmanuel Rubin, today (11-19) but apparently “discovered” by everyone else in the food world last week but my BFF (best food finder), formerly the RFC, also knew and wanted to avoid the critic crowd Thursday so we went today and there were only 9 covers – domage and tant pis! It’s a real gem. The chef, just about 12 years old, and the waitguy, about 18, run a tight ship. The chef, provenance Gaya, Pre Catalan + Michel Bras, had an astounding idea – cook today’s best products in yesterday’s style – wow! And at reasonable prices – 32 € for three courses and wines like our Viognier for 20 €. Is he crazy? Nope. We’re in a depression folks and this guy (Guillaume Delage) is going to weather it just fine. My eating partner and I argued over what to order; usually I know exactly what I want but there were too many choices and what we saw being served elsewhere looked great too. So we split everything; the firsts were a softboiled egg with fresh, barely cooked spinach leaves and smoked haddock and a crème of scallops base with smoky endives in the middle and two perfect sautéed scallops atop. Did I say heaven? Then we had the unusual chicken bits (OK, cockscombs, hearts, livers, etc) in a fabulous rich sauce with a side dish of fall veggies (turnips, parsnips, etc) and a slice of nicely cooked veal with celery and mushrooms and a side dish of some mushroomy thing wrapped in ?cabbage. Did I say good? Then we split a cheese course and a pistachio cakey thing. Did I say over the top? My oh my, Lordy me, as my great-grandma would say, what’s that boy doing? Well it ain’t gunna last long at 32 € for this level of food. I’ll give him 6 months, then it’ll be 48 € with 30 € wines and then the call of the big hotels in 2 years. Our bill would have been 100 € even without the supplement for (would you believe it) the chicken offal which included one bottle of wine, one Badoit (which he ordered before I got there, naughty boy) and two coffees. Go? Do you have a comprehension issue? Only problem – you gotta use a bitta salt to jazz it up. 6.0 Another Ducassian protegé succeeds. L’Assiette, 181, rue du Château in the 14th, 01 43 22 64 86, closed Mondays and Tuesdays, lunch menu 25 € (even on weekends), evening menu 50 €, a la carte: 25-40 € is the old Lulu monument, taken over this fall by the Ducassian protégé, David Rathegber. I thought it was nickel. At the start, the clientele were all foreign speaking but by meal’s end they had tilted towards France. The tic-like keening of the four classically beautiful Japanese women on the left, who were surely models, at the recitation of the menu (in English) was counterpunctuated by the yelling from the kitchen from the right that sounded like someone who kept burning himself. The meal started off wonderfully well, with delicious bread, butter and sliced ham off the bone as an amuse bouche. The carte could push you up easily into the 50-60 € range and so when I heard the 25 € lunch menu’s offerings, I was pleased. I started with a “salad” of tiny warm leeks with diced spiced beef and teeny croutons that was more than good. Then I had two ecrevisses and a big quenelle of fish with a Nantua sauce that was pretty much like the gold standard that I had at the source in Nantua and certainly better than my last one at Les Ombes/Bellecoeur. The chef had the nice habit of poking his head around the corner of the open kitchen, much like Dominique Bouchet or William Ledeuil, to check the pace of service, delight of customers (me thumb up), etc,. One glass of wine came with the 25 € menu so with coffee it was 28 € (they did have a fair number of glasses of wine from 7-9, half-carafes at 18-27 and bottles on up to 150 €.) Go? You betcha; Ducasse’s aura rubs off on the acolytes. 5.5 Best opening in November? Les Terrines de Gérard Vié (rings a bell?), 79, rue du Cherche Midi in the 6th, 01.42.22.19.18, closed Sundays and Mondays, serving a formula of two dishes plus wine at lunch for 24 and 30 € at night is another gem of a place. Going there is old home week, first because the location was that of the much missed Rond de Serviette, second because it then housed and still has the awning of Neuf 7, home to Mireille Darc, Johnny Hollyday, Laetitia Casta and Gérard Depardieu and third, because the man behind the place, Gérard Vié, is he from the Trois Marches/Trianon Palace, pre-Gordon Ramsay. In any case, it’s been on my “list” and today’s Croque Notes by Francois Simon calling it the “adresse du mois” when we’ve got a week left, pushed me to go sooner rather than later. The place was hopping and despite Simon’s bemoaning Vié’s bemoaning an absence of custom, it was only accommodating folks with reservations today. The amuse gueule(s) was/were some slices of sausages and boudin and a terrine. The firsts are all either charcuteries or terrines, but interesting ones – I had the rabbit since Simon liked it, and it was good, but its abats that came alongside were even better, especially the liver. Then I had again what Simon did, the paleron of beef atop mashed potatoes with big carrots and a dense brown-black sauce. Too much to finish but great. This is comfort food folks, go expecting no less. And it’s also great theatre by the couple in the front room, bantering back and forth, he juggling plates like Marcel Marceau and she juggling the liquids equally fast. A word about its name – Les Terrines….., why are these terrines different from the dozens now being sold from all over the country in front of my market street? Good question; but they were very good. With a coffee and a ½ bottle of wine but no bottled water = 38 €. Go? You bet, but “best of the month?” up against Jadis, I dunno. 5.0 Steak frites anyone? Le Relais de l’Entrecote, recently opened a 4th such (not to be confused with the Relais de Venise l’entrecote or l’Entrecote; do we have a little Original Ray’s Pizza syndrome here?) at 101, blvd de Montparnasse in the 6th, 01.46.33.82.82, open 7/7, makes no bones about what they serve. The wait person appears and says “How do you want ‘em?” Not “Here’s the menu” or “Would you like to know how it works here? Nope - “How do you want ‘em?” So my favorite single downstairs neighbor looked confused, then enlightened, and said “a point” and I “bleu” and they were just that. We had nice salads with walnuts and great dressing first and some lousy bread but very reasonable wine. Then the entrecotes which were just the right size and had the famous “secret” sauce, whose secrecy has certainly been bandied about more than Obama’s love of basketball, served with a ton of “match” potatoes. And just as I was commenting on how great it was to be back in the land of reasonable portion sizes, the waitress arrives with seconds of both (a la Zurich) – a nice but unnecessary touch. For dessert she had what was called a semifredo but was an ice cream paradise with Grand Marnier and toasted almond slices and I had 5, count them, 5 cheeses and ample slices too, that were perfectly affinated, which I thought was incredible for a joint that must be tourist central at night. Finally the coffee was terrific and as serré as I’ve had North of Milan. Our bill = 82.35 € (a contrefilet menu is 24.50). Go? Context may not be everything but on a day when I got dripped on, on an airplane, “lost” my passport for an hour and had my phone cut off, it counted as just pure pleasure. 5.0 If I only had something like this on my block. Ober-Salé, 17 rue Oberkampf in the 11th, 01.43.38.46.68, open/closed? (I forgot to ask), 2 courses at lunchtime = 16 and 3 = 19 €, crept onto the Parisian gastronomic scene with little notice 5 months ago, except for a little note and 6/10 rating in the Figaroscope Dossier a month ago – strange eh? The chef is exBristol and it has only two choices for each course at lunch and four at dinner but judging from what we had, that’s enough. There are only 20 covers and it was only half-full at lunch but I bet in this yuppieville it’s packed at night. My eating pal and I split every course and except for the pumpkin soup which could have used some pizzazz (a touch of Tabasco maybe) it was damn good fare. We started with said soup and what sounded boring – an egg covered with a creme of cauliflower that was astonishingly good – probably because we expected so little. Then we had a leg and thigh of pintade that was perfectly browned and toasty and tasty with smashed barely cooked potatoes, which even I, an avowed potato agnostic, found good as well two very nicely sautéed filets of merlan atop chopped leeks and garlic that had just enough zip. We terminated with a lukewarm rice pudding with a topping of hot sweet sautéed pineapple bits and a nage of clementines with a barely tasteable ginger syrup. With a wonderful Cotes de Ventoux, which was wonderful once it had "breathed" and two Illy coffees our bill was 64 €. Go? Yes, why hasn’t any other critic? 4.5-5.0 Depending on where you live. Petit Panisse, 35, rue de Montreuil in the 11th, 01.43.71.37.90, closed Saturday lunch and Sundays with formulas at 10, 12 and 15 at lunch and 24 and 30 € looks like a real dump from the street; faded signs, faded woodwork, old advertising signs, aged metal shops – great ambiance. By digging one finds out this is associated with the Vache Acrobate and it’s sure a funky space. Here we are in a recession/depression and the place is packed with locals, by 1 PM flowing out into the street waiting. No wonder, three courses at lunch are 16 € and at dinner only 30 € and wine by the ½ liter is 12 €. I was seated at a corner table which suited me just fine and had a great view of the scene. I started with a fish soup with rouille, that both had a different taste than I’m used to, but they were just fine. Then I had the coq au vin, which had a sauce as good as they come. The desserts were made on-site; I had an apricot/pistachio one that again was quite good. The outside says traditional food and it sure is: the above plus foie gras, charcuterie, boudin and seafood raviolis. They served up three sorts of bread, one a nut bread, had a more than ample cheese platter and gave me the best Illy coffee I’ve had in months. The bill (tap water is on the table) was 30.50 €. Go? You won’t so it’s futile telling you I wish there were a down and dirty place like this in my, indeed every, quartier. 4.0 Burlot’s Wine Store Eatery: not bad La Cave Edmond, 10, rue Nicholas-Charlet in the 15th, 01.47.34.10.62 , closed Sundays and Mondays, was recently opened by Thierry Burlot (who is just across the street in the picture above), who also now has the Cristal Room, Zebra Square + Drugstore among his responsibilities. I’ve had a roller-coaster experience with M. Burlot so I went with no expectations. It’s a nice enough corner place with about 6 stools and counters facing the windows and 4 at a common table where there are lots of open bottles. The menu is simple as befits a place like this; 10 items or so to choose from. I started with a platter of exceptionally good (hot and garlicky) sausage with mediocre bread, which the guy in charge sliced himself, as he did all the cold starters. Then I had a cocotte of lamb shoulder in wine sauce with Thierry’s vapeured veggies and olives that was good but lukewarm and cold by the time the last bit went in. I finished by having the sole dessert an apple tarte that was actually quite good. With three glasses of wine (a Madiran, Cevennes and Cote de Rhone), no bottled water or coffee, my bill was 29.90 €. Go? It’s not necessary unless you’re over at the Necker for a scan. 3.5 Senderens at his best and worst. Le Passage, 9, place de la Madeleine in the 8th, 01.42.65.22.90, open 7/7, calls itself a “New York-styled upstairs bar.” I’ve been three times since it opened a few years ago; the first time while eating downstairs to see what it was like; the second time because Colette and I seriously wanted to try it but stuff looked too sushi/curry/etc., so we went elsewhere and today, Lord knows why, after all the mixed reviews (Figaro up, Adrian Moore down). Now disclosure: I’ve been a fan of Alain S’s since the late 1960’s at l’Archistrate and I even liked my first meal at his newest post-star invention. So despite the fact I’d read about dried out sushi and awful wait-staffs, I went with a clean slate. First, though, its entrance is most off-putting; whereas on prior visits I’d entered from the main resto, going down the dank passage and being buzzed in was infradig. Then there are the “New York-style” chairs and tables – New York? – I lived there 25 years and I never saw stuff like that. Next I looked at the carte, expensive, about 45 € for two “small plates,” this is his “second”? The waitguy told me the “menu” and for 36 € I went for it. (Wines were 9-10 € a glass and 25-? € a bottle.) I began with an amuse-bouche of a consumé of langoustines with a crème of celery with a daringly successful jolt of chopped chives; OK, Senderens knows his veggies and (with guys like Bocuse years ago), didn’t have to tell the world he found and used good ones. Then came something that sure as heck (as Geo Bush would say) sounded like evitée de tomates but seemed like blah sliced turkey or rabbit with nice romaine leaves and dressing. Then came Senderens back blazing full bore – with a poule faisan rollatine stuffed with foie gras on a bed of perfectly cooked mixed wild mushrooms (cepes, pleurottes and oysters) and a peppery brown wine sauce – heaven! The dessert also was not half-bad but mal-described as a macaroon; indeed the joy was in the incredibly delicious mound of coffee ice cream with pomegranate seeds. The service varied between out-to-lunch (but I was supposed to be eating it) and talking about last night’s liaisons and attentive and helpful. It seemed incredible to have 3-4 wait-persons serving 7 customers and ignoring them 50% of the time a full 3 meters away. They were making up in professionalism by being enthusiastic, pleasant and energetic. It almost worked. The bill for the 36 € “menu” and two glasses of passable wine = 54 €. Go? In this recession/depression, if you’re still travelling on your corporate jet, still gas up 3 SUV’s and have your money in hedge funds – Go! but otherwise wait til we climb out of this hole in 7-10 years. 3.5 You can’t have everything. Arthur, 25, rue du Faubourg St Martin in the 10th, 01.42.08.34.33, closed Saturday lunch, Sundays and Monday night, menu-carte at 39.50 € for three dishes (about 5 choices each course), and 26.50 € for two courses of the daily four specials, is a place that got two hearts back in October and only now I’m catching up with. I went (my call, sorry) with two great dining partners who know their stuff and we all three were disappointed except for the desserts. The décor can charitably be described as 1930’s whore-house red and the photos of Parisian theatre icons don’t lend confidence to the impression. We started with the ecrevisses/lobster tartare, pate en croute and the third so forgettable I forget. (Oh yah, it was raviolis with wild mushrooms – sounded great when A. Lobrano described it in WHERE). Then we had the tagine of lamb with (good) fall vegetables, duck breast “burger” with fois gras and frites, that its orderer asked the waiter for fleur de sel to spark up and home-made tagliatelles drowned in seafood cream sauce with five or six halves of over the hill scallops. Finally we shared a bitter chocolate gateau and tarte tatin with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce. (There is one absolutely hilarious part of the show-biz décor; in the bathroom, the sink flashes with red and blue lights like a state fair popcorn stand.) With a bottle of wine called “You are so cool” (I couldn’t resist ordering it) that was icy cold even for a red Loire, 3 coffees and no bottled water our bill was 139.50 €. Go? Only if you have two interesting and food-worthy dining companions as I did. 2.5 A plain old place if it were elsewhere. L’Hydrophobe, 53 bis, blvd Arago in the 13th, 01.45.35.53.42, closed Sundays and Mondays, is described by Emmanuel Rubin as serving honorable food, which is a funny word to use, since it sits practically next door to Paris’s infamous prison, La Santé, which both my eating companion and I swear we separately saw disgorge the ETA suspects en route to Spain. Its other point of fame is that its sidewalk is home to the last remaining vespasienne in Paris. In any case, I was eating there that day since said partner is my Paris psychiatrist (don’t fret, no boundary violations here, I, like everyone, don’t tell him anything personal) and it’s easy to walk over from Ste Anne’s. It looks very spiffy, with new spiffy awnings and new spiffy tables and chairs. The menu looked nice with two dishes for 27 and 3 for 34 € and a big wine list with reasonably priced ones. He started off with three nicely sautéed stuffed rougets and I with a envelope of forcemeat and snails – neither was great, neither disgraceful. Then he had a big kidney with veggies and I a casserole of venison bits in a nice sauce with fall vegetables as well - neither was great, neither disgraceful. Oh I said that before. We jointly decided not to have a dessert but just coffee and split. Our bill with a bottle of wine and no bottled water = 74 €. Go? As I say, it was “neither great nor disgraceful.” 1.5 This is a neighborhood place: no more, no less. Variations, which lists itself as at 18 rue Wallons (but is also at the corner of rue, Rene Panhard (my first French car) earning it a point), 01.43.31.36.04, closed Sundays, has been on my radar screen since it opened earlier this spring and each time I pass it, en route elsewhere, I say to myself - “I must look for reviews.” Well, it has been reviewed in Telerama, ParuVendu + Newzy - ho hum - but finally in Le Monde, Fooding 2009 + A Nous Paris, so I figured I was safe for going to lunch on Saturday. The menu is ambitious; from salads to pasta in the big parmesan round; from risotto to steak; from tiramisu to chocolate cake – ambitious sounding eh, and suspiciously Italian? Very nice welcome; nice interchange with the chef as to why he used vodka not grappa in the flambéed pasta; nice help from the maitre d’ when my hood needed buttoning before I exited into the rain. Ah, but the food John? Yes, well. I started with a carpaccio of duck breast, excellent product but over-salted and over-espiletted. Then I had the sautéed foie gras atop a red onion “chutney.” I have never in all my years on earth tasted foie gras like this or should I say not tasted it – it was tasteless and no amount of salt or pepper could revive it. Thinking I could save the day with a nice dessert I had prunes in Armagnac that were without character or taste-able Armagnac - but the mint on top was fabulous. I couldn’t bring myself to suffer through a coffee and exited 48 € poorer (3 courses, a ½ liter of Bordeaux and tap water). (They did have a 20 € formula with 2 dishes of forced choices.) At first I thought I should, as an eG host told me recently, do the guy a service by not writing him up, but as I headed back to the Metro, passing my professional-spiritual home, the Salpetriere, it occurred to me that assisted suicide might be the kindest act. Go? As I said: this is a neighborhood place: no more, no less. 1.0 Open Monday lunch, that’s about all. Oeuf Mayo, 42, rue de la Coquillere in the 1st (sound familiar, exactly, it’s just two blocks past Dehillerin), was featured somewhere and while it was at the bottom of my list, among places open Monday, as my friend Atar says, “the new Saturday”, it got to the top pretty fast. I actually tried to go there a while back with my charming cohost, but the only guy in the place rushed out to say there was a “disaster in the kitchen” and they were closing – it should have been an omen – today there was “a disaster in the kitchen” but it wasn’t an electricity or gas outage, it was awful cooking. You recall when Spy Magazine kept saying that the revered two-time New York Times Pulitzer awardee, Abe Rosenthal, mentor to giants like RW (Johnnie) Apple, was “writing as bad as he can?” Well, this guy is cooking as bad as he can. I really didn’t come in with “an attitude.” While they wouldn’t take my reservation (which they did last time) I accepted the explanation that it was a small place and they couldn’t. But when the waiter came over with his left sleeve rolled up to display a horrid tattoo and his jeans down around his knees anti-Obama style, I took notice. I looked at the carte – truck stop stuff. Firsts, herring, rillettes, etc., but recalling an expert on such things declared that the oeufs mayo at Quai-Quai were the best ever, I decided to see what a place called Oeuf Mayo could do – first mistake; they were pretty pathetic. Then I had the special – roast pork with herbs and mashed potatoes, both were inedible and I wasn’t into licking the acceptable-tasting gravy off the plate. So I took the tarte au citron which actually wasn’t half bad. The Richard coffee was OK and the bread passable. Now the question, dear reader, is why am I giving it a 1.0 – Ans. Because they played a CD of the Garde Républicaine playing my favorite French marching songs. My bill for 3 courses was 16 €, 2 would have been 12 €, and wines were 15-79 € a bottle and 2.5 € up a glass, so in total one had a 28 € hit. But at what cost to one’s arteries, spirits and pride? Oh yah, the little saucer holding the addition said (in English) “Every day, every night, every time” whatever that means. Go? No wonder it took so long to creep up my list. 0.5 Godforsaken spot; godforsaken place; godforsaken food. La Canaille, 4, rue Crillon in the 4th, 01.42.78.09.71, closed Saturday lunch and Sundays is a place my FFFF suggested we eat at and I readily agreed since he is spot on 99.9999% of the time. Now disclosure and disclaimer – disclosure: he’s not going to write our meal up for complicated reasons but said I could an quote him – disclaimer: we mean no evil to the chef or owner, the latter of whom told my pal it might not be so good. Its location is weird, in the Bermuda triangle between Sully-Morland, the Gare de la Rapee and the Bastille. What must have been here 50 years ago? Metal works? Print shops? Shipping offices? I dunno, but the street was godforsaken. I entered a tad before my host and the wait guy was drole, suggesting I sit on an isolated chair by the coat rack to wait or by the etched antique glass partition in front on a “Defense d’Afficher” thing and weird posters and art on the wall – OK, I lack the French sense of humor. We looked at the carte and there were two - Noon and Night - and a chalkboard. We were able to order what we wanted however and shared throughout. We started with the nem (not nems) of vegetables with bean sprouts in a strange sauce neither of us hardened sauce experts could identify and boudin noir tarte (of all things); both of which came with great salads with strangely sweet dressings, however. We both left portions unfinished. At this point, he looked at me and said “I’m sorry; I should never, oh golly, oh gosh…..” I replied that it was better than starving. Then I had ordered the pintade stuffed with apples and something else (a rollatine) which came with great vegetables and he had the canette with sour cherries (good) and hot-table vegetables (awful). He said “John, please, don’t, I, well, maybe, oh……” I said “Gimme a break, it’s not that bad. We’ve got dessert coming, recall in the 1960’s when the firsts and desserts were superb and the meal only fell down in the middle?” He said “I wasn’t born then.” So he got the cheese and said “What’s wrong with this?” I guessed - “it’s been standing too long? Ah, it’s been in the frigo?” “No, no, touch it.” It was warm to the touch – heated camembert, just like they used to serve at fancy Manhattan parties in the 1970’s. Yikes. And my supposed millefeuille of apples was barely edible and he wouldn’t touch “his” half. (And he’s not writing this place up because his beat now is upbeat)? Oh my. Well the coffees came, not as ordered, and with only one spoon and while he was gracefully saying his goodbyes, I shuffled out the door. We split without discussing it any further. The bill – 92.60 € - they should have paid us that, although the wine was OK, the bread not so. Sad, sad, sad. Go? You not only don’t read to the end, you don’t get nuance.
