Ptipois

Le Comptoir de l'Odéon ? (Question mark because I expect this statement to be controversial.)

No, John, don't say that. Don't despair. Keep'em comin'. We do our best.

Not that I know of any reply for those questions, but I can only suggest through simple culinary common sense: Salmon and dill: a Nordic pairing, two Nordic ingredients. Dill is supposed to come from the Norse dilla, which means "to lull". It is a soothing, digestive plant. I can only imagine that dill was supposed to cut down the fattiness of the salmon, as is usually the case with "warm" digestive spices associated with fatty meat or fish. Lukewarm potatoes with marinated smoked herring: the dish would appear too oily if the potatoes were cold. A bit of warmth makes it easier to digest. Besides, French-style potato salad is always supposed to taste better if a little warm and, in any case, has to be seasoned while still warm (as the chef in Renoir's Rules of the Game clearly reminds us). So the sooner it is served, the better. I think cold cuts with pickles speak for themselves; cold food is less easy to digest than warm food. Pickles used to be widely relied on to help digestion (looking back on 17-century cooking it is amazing how much sourer than today's cooking it was). The rather bland taste of cold meat has to be perked up by the acidity of the pickles; as is often the case (IMO), the taste factor echoes the health factor. This is not specifically French.

Well, re-reading John's metaphysical interrogations about parmentier, I realized why he had a problem with that dish. Apparently, he believed that the parmentier was the layer of potatoes on top of the meat. It is not. The parmentier (shorter for "hachis Parmentier") is the whole dish: chopped leftover beef stew + mashed potatoes on top. Therefore you need not wonder about the pairing because it is not a pairing, it is a dish in its own right. Mind you, this is not to be confused with other dishes qualified as "parmentier" without being "hachis": omelette Parmentier, potage parmentier: it only means there are potatoes in it.

Parmentier, I think, makes sense by itself. The mashed potatoes (which are on top of the meat, btw, not the other way round) are supposed to cover a regular layer of chopped leftover stew meat. The dish itself was created to make good use of leftovers, and the texture of mashed potatoes seemed to suit the texture of the chopped meat, cover it more hermetically and produce a better, firmer, more even texture (a good parmentier can be cut like a cake). It also helps the meat to stew a bit longer in the oven.

Because potatoes were cooked in the most readily available fat, i.e. rendered fat from the duck or goose, and it was pan-frying, not deep-frying. Also because a final sprinkling of raw garlic had to be added to the potatoes, and the greasy, sticky pommes sarladaises would hold the garlic and absorb its flavor better than frites would. Also, frites are a rather recent invention, whether they were invented in Paris or in Belgium or — as some say — in Brittany, they are not part of traditional Southwestern culture. Frites are now everywhere but they have to be understood as a very urban preparation. They are, historically, city food. So very foreign to cassoulet, which is a country dish. As for the cassoulet, what you should ask is not "why the beans with the meats?" but rather "why the meats with the beans?", because — a very important, much overlooked fact —, historically and for economic reasons, cassoulet is not a dish of various meats on a bed of beans but rather a dish of beans with something on top, i.e. whatever was to be grabbed around, so depending on the location any preserved meat that was made. Hence the differences between cassoulets. The antique, primitive versions of cassoulet (broad beans with salt pork) are here to testify. Beans are not a side dish in cassoulet. They are the very nature of the dish, and confit and sausages and etc. are just added things. Even in the late 19th century a cassoulet for poor people was composed only of beans and some pork rinds for added mellowness.

Heh. Sounds like Charly all right. You didn't miss much anyway. Never have couscous in the 16e or 17e anyway (unless it's somewhere near the Batignolles).

Lucky you, you can't be closer to L'Orénoc, the restaurant of Méridien Etoile, with Claude Colliot as chef. Try it.

Well, what d'ya know. What puzzles me is that there is nothing in the questionnaire that actually concerns hunting and fishing; nature very little, tradition hardly anything. I'd be curious to know how you got Nihous out of the box! I got Dominique Voynet as the closest (12 points), and José Bové (11) and Marie-George Buffet (11) ex-aequo. So you'll do the fishing and hunting, I'll organize the picnic, making sure there's enough fair trade products on the checkered tablecloth.

I went to Al filo delle stagioni with three friends. I'm very sorry, I'm afraid my report won't be very positive. On entering, a sign on the door: "No credit cards". Hmpf. But okay, their machine may be temporarily broken, we can cope with that. Inside, a weird feeling of being crammed. There are two dining rooms, front and back, we're in the back. Uncomfortable to say the least. A voluminous ham slicing machine — beautiful, that's for sure — takes up half the width of the doorway between the two dining rooms. Obviously it's not easy to walk through it back and forth and not get your hip bruised once or twice on the handle. But the waitresses are slim and pliable so I suppose they're trained. We sit down at our round table for four, three would be more reasonable. There are chairs with a narrow back and very impractical rounded armchairs that take up so much space that it is very tricky to circulate between tables. Whenever you try to take a step, you sort of bounce from one armchair to another. This is not a dining room, it's a pinball. You have a choice between being squeezed with your back to the wall or being in the way. What exactly is the problem (badly designed furniture? Too many tables?) is not clear. My back and shoulders get bumped two or three times by waitresses merely trying to reach a table or by guests leaving theirs. Ouch. One friend points out: "Being physically molested is normally not part of a restaurant experience." Well, maybe the food will compensate? The antipasti are good: excellent san daniele ham and salami, mortadella, etc., served with pickled grilled vegetables that are okay. But a mere look at the menu raises suspicion: all pasta dishes are also available in risotto version. I mean, there is "pasta carbonara" and "risotto carbonara", and so on. I have never seen that in an Italian restaurant, where each dish stands for itself. We wonder how they achieve that. Or rather, we prefer not to wonder too much. One friend's arrabbiata has no chili at all. Well, he did say "not too spicy" but this is not spicy at all. The pasta is no better or worse than cafeteria pasta. All other three have ordered risotto. Two with speck and fresh broad beans, one carbonara. They all arrive entirely covered in speck slices as if they were hiding — we quickly understand why. Thick, dry, doughy, pasty, heavy, plaster-like, very little flavor, they're hiding from our judgement, that is. I can only eat one third of mine and I notice my friends haven't done any better. We tell the waitress that it's not very good. She says she is sorry. She adds: "Have you any experience of what it is to try to impress a chef?" We say: "Oh, of course, we understand. But please send him to us then, we'll take care of him." "He's gone home", she says. Only one of us is willing to resume the testing by ordering tiramisu. We prefer going directly to the coffee stage. The coffee is very good. I take a bite of the tiramisu: bland, except for the nice detail of crispy roasted Pavesini biscuits. I haven't managed to understand the locking system in the bathroom, but I think there is no locking system at all. As we go out, I see a cute little mouse escalading the red velvet curtain in the back of the second dining-room (calm down, it's not like rats at KFC, this is the Marais and there often are mice in the wooden frames of the buildings. There always have been). But this creature, at least, looks happy.

This is, to say the least, a bit exaggerated. Monoprix has some very good produce though I admit it is not so cute and (at first sight) not so much of a "Parisian" experience than Rambuteau, where you won't necessarily find greater stuff, especially on a Monday. (Pretty far from tug's zone too. And are the shops — the fish market for instance — really open on Mondays?)

I didn't recomment that one because I'm not sure it has a food department. The one in Saint-Augustin is quite good. Of course not. You will.

First there isn't precisely a "brunch craze" in Paris, just some places serving brunch. And there's nothing new about that: it's been going on since before the '80s, though it has been increasing steadily. As for the exotic factor, well by now it has faded. It's just people rising late after partying on Saturday night, as they do all over the world, and finding it nice (and cool, indiscutably) to spend Sunday morning in a relaxed way while meeting friends. It has "de-americanized" somehow to become just a matter of how late you have your breakfast or how early you have your lunch when you've been partying the night before. And some restaurants or cafés have discovered that there is a clientèle for that, so they cater to them. The most receptive population is to be found in trendy places like the Marais, Bastille and Oberkampf, so there's a lot of brunching there for the party crowd, but it is by no means restricted to those places. Le Pain Quotidien in various locations has its aficionados on Sunday morning. Restaurants that serve brunch are among the ones that stay open on Sundays, or they're hotel restaurants; I suppose that answers your question.

On Monday all markets and market streets are closed, so you'll have to rely on the Monoprix or on the gourmet department stores like Inno, La Grande Epicerie (Bon Marché) or Lafayette Gourmet. Monoprix are all over Paris. Be careful; some of them don't have a food department. I recommend the one on boulevard Malesherbes at Saint-Augustin.

Boulangerie Laurent Bonneau, 76 rue d'Auteuil, 16e. (One of the great baguettes of Paris, not mentioned in the article.)

Apart from the reasons already mentioned here (Sunday is le Jour du Seigneur, period), there are labor laws about work on Sundays, or used to be recently (I think they have been loosened up a bit in recent years after there was a fuss about the Virgin Megastore on Champs-Élysées being open on Sundays). Still Sunday remains the most frequent day off for restaurants and non-food shops, while most food shops (except the department stores, Monoprix, etc.), and many restaurants too, are traditionally closed on Mondays because Sunday is the food producers' and wholesalers' day off. This has been going on for a very long time. Small restaurants that rely a lot on fresh produce will often be closed Sundays and Mondays as well. I've noticed that the most successful a bistrot is, the more it tends to be closed on Mondays too and work on a 5-day basis from Tuesday to Saturday.

You mean Christian and Catherine Constant I suppose.

Oh yes, Kim Anh is a classic. It may be interesting to note that the place has a remarkable wine cellar. Funny how well paired are Kim Anh's Vietnamese dishes and château-latour... When it is supposedly so tricky to associate French wines and Asian food. The pho at Kim Anh is great. Very simple, with excellent broth.

I have. Nice but... underspiced (and I'm not such a phrik fan, if I daresay). I recommend Le Banyan (15e) very warmly.

Rouammit is very nice, it is actually managed by the same people as Huong Lam. Huong Lam is larger but always crowded. I like their food but I find it a bit underspiced. A bit harder to reach, but very good (and slightly spicier): Lao Viet, 24 bd Massena, 13e. Métro Porte-d'Ivry (go east on boulevard Massena and keep walking). Tél. 01 45 84 05 43.

French chefs pâtissiers use Kiri. Saint-Môret is a bit too sourish and Carré Frais Gervais a bit too watery. If you find Samos 99 (an old-fashioned, rare brand), grab it, that's the real thing. Wherever you are, just browse supermarkets carefully and check any ethnic (Asian, North African, Antillais, etc.) market there may be — there is usually at least one in each city, not mentioning specialty shops. You'll be surprised by the many interesting things you'll find. And you will also find tons of good stuff in Marseille. Ordering online only concerns spice mixes and Latino condiments, and I believe that's worth it.

1. Old Bay Seasoning Very unlikely. Order online. 2. Guava paste or marmalade In Carribean stores, magasins antillais, épiceries antillaises. Note that some large Asian markets (Tang frères, Exo-Store in the XIIIe, Thanh Binh on rue Lagrange, and the Wa Seng store at 18, boulevard Garibaldi) have carribean sections. So do some large French supermarkets. Look for pâte de goyave, confiture or gelée de goyave. 3. Sweetened condensed milk All over the place (lait concentré sucré). 4. Buttermilk Not labeled as such; look for "lait ribot" (a Breton specialty) or more simply the lait fermenté (often drank with couscous) sold in cartons in North African stores. You can also find it in supermarkets. Quite common. 5. Latin-American ingredients (Adobo, and seasonings) Increasingly harder to find since most of the few Mexican stores in Paris closed during the last few years. You're more likely to find the odd bumpy can of jalapenos in escabeche and the horrid Old El Paso taco sauce (supermarkets) than a proper array of Latin American products. Mexi & Co (rue Dante, 5e) still has a few things. There again I would advise you to order from an online source. (For Peruvian produce see Casa Picaflor on rue Tiquetonne and there is a Colombian grocer on rue du Chemin-Vert. One tiny shop on rue du Cherche-Midi near Montparnasse and an Argentinian store on boulevard Saint-Germain near place Maubert but that's all I can think of.) Why in the world should you? There's Philadelphia at the Grande Epicerie du Bon Marché and Kiri, Saint-Moret, Mme Loic, Carré Frais, etc., in every grocery and supermarket. And fresh brillat-savarin in cheese stores. Cream cheese is surely not the thing that's missing the most from French stores. Other things we miss is properly aged beef (our beef is not fatty enough to be aged, unfortunately some restaurateurs, even starred ones, think they can serve aged charolais and it's a disaster), decent bread flour (in retail stores; the boulangers have it but they're not always willing to sell some), dairy sour cream (why oh why? But this is easy to make at home), large fresh shrimp, etc. Good cheddar cheese is hard to find but it can be found.

Le Bambou, rue Baudricourt. Tricotin, avenue de Choisy.

I see no such thing. Or if I'm wrong, just take the A which is within walking distance (Fontenay), or a taxi, or a suburban bus which will take you to the nearest Porte and then you may take the métro, a taxi, a bus, etc. Or a Noctilien bus. Buses and métros have been running later than usual (plus some on Sundays and holidays) since a couple of months ago. (Everything will be fine, you're not going to the jungle, you're only going a few miles East of central Paris!)

Make sure you have the right train timetable, because RER trains run until past midnight. I have no information for Nogent-Le Perreux but last train to Paris from Fontenay-Sous-Bois (which is close) is at 0:35 and from Val-de-Fontenay a bit later. Trains every 15 minutes. BTW a taxi wouldn't cost you much more than a ride within city limits, distances are small. There is no train problem anyway. See this for more info.