Ptipois

All markets are interesting.

The greatest woman chef I've ever met never got the fame she deserved: Marie Naël, from the now disappeared restaurant Écaille et Plume, in Paris (7e). Now she gives cooking classes. (There are quite a few names missing from Pudlo's list.)

I completely agree with you. I was always delighted with the meals I had there, and I found the service to be excellent also. Though very classical, the restaurant has a warm atmosphere. The sommelier is passionate. I also agree about the Disneyland aspect: just dive head first into the dining rooms (the Auberge is not bad, either, and nicely decorated) and try to forget about the cute stuff. I particularly remember a wonderful dish of sautéed mixed vegetables, the best I've ever had in a French restaurant. The light and careful touch applied to all dishes, including the not-so-light ones (one poulet G7 and you've had enough of a calorie intake for one week). The frog's legs, poule au pot and gâteau de foies blonds at the Auberge are marvellous. Just a personal opinion - getting to know the Bocuse universe has made me enjoy the Blanc universe even more. There is something simple, friendly and unpretentious about Blanc (even considering the Disney stuff, which is corny but not offensive) while the Bocuse style, either at the restaurant or at the brasseries, is cool, well-organized, efficient but cold. And the food lacks that human touch and is not as interesting. I like Léon de Lyon too. When visiting the kitchen I was impressed by the sight of a half-dozen huge pans where fonds and jus were simmering. Fond de veau, fond de volaille, fond de bœuf, fond de gibier au vin rouge... I think the secret of their cooking lies partly in those jus. Very few restaurants do that anymore.

It won't be quite the end of the truffle season yet, though I doubt you'll find a lot of truffles on restaurant dishes. The season has been very poor this year. And there will be some Spring produce, mid-March is early Spring. First produce actually begin reaching the stalls in February. Stop worrying, you'll have a good time, Paris is great any time of the year!

Thanks to Pierre45 I had the opportunity to revise my judgement of Le Bistral. The meal I had tonight was as delicious as the first one I had last year had been disappointing. There was particularly a dish of perfect farm-raised veal fillet, quick-seared, sliced and laid on a plate, carpaccio style. The veal slices were then quickly heated in the oven and covered with a wonderful sauce of fond brun, chopped cèpes and truffles. On the side, creamed pasta with slivers of parmigiano reggiano. One of the best main courses I had in a Paris bistrot in a long time. The cooking has not exactly been simplified, but it seems that the chef no longer gets lost into details and has reached maturity.

Oh, John, not too much cassoulet just isn't cassoulet! To Markk: I believe that part of the Michelin at least should be reliable. If they go to such lengths as to list the best dishes in their categories, I should expect them to proceed on rather solid ground, with the added fact that letters from disagreeing readers would soon set them right. But, of course, I haven't tried cassoulet at those places (I make my own or I buy it canned) but they all have a good reputation for cassoulet. Le Violon d'Ingres is also supposed to have good cassoulet. I can testify that the cassoulet at L'Ecureuil, l'Oie et le Canard (5e, rue Linné) is very nice and it isn't in the list.

Le Bon Marché is okay for things you won't find elsewhere, like spices and sauces, stuff from remote regions or countries, faddy foods and the odd luxury item. It is not for everyday shopping. Same can be said about Lafayette Gourmet, which seems to have a slightly wider choice of items. By the way, I think la Grande Epicerie du Bon Marché is co-run by Monoprix, and concerning everyday non-luxury foods like fruit, vegetables, meats, groceries, etc., you will find exactly the same at any Monoprix in Paris.

"Les Violons", you mean Le Violon d'Ingres? It is by no means a bistrot, it is a restaurant, and though the prices are reasonable for a 1-star, and it serves some dishes typical of bistrot food (tête de veau for instance), they are prepared and served in a fashion, and in a setting, much more reminiscent of the old-fashioned Paris bourgeois restaurants than of bistrots. By the way, it seems to me that you're spending more time thinking about which restaurants you should be going to than just embracing the experience in a more spontaneous way. My advice would be just to let yourself go, discover the city in a more relaxed way, and trust your senses. Whatever you will get will be a Paris experience. By planning it so carefully, you are at the risk of treading onto too-well-beaten paths and missing the "Paris" aspect. Or be led into places that are internationally supposed to be typically Parisian but of which true Parisians have hardly ever heard of. Edit: I recommend "Aux Zingots", near the gare de l'Est (rue de la Fidélité), for a visually striking Paris experience. A large bistrot that used to be a ballroom and a pool room, run by former owner of Chez Ramulaud, gorgeous setting, spacious seating, food kind of hit-and-miss but very decent most of the time, great cheap wines and wonderful cheeses. Better avoid the desserts (unless they hired a new pâtissier since last Fall).

Au Bascou is very, very nice. The "lighter touch" is a reality. Desserts are excellent, particularly a scrumptious and feather-light millefeuille. It serves some Basque (actually basco-béarnais) dishes without pulling too hard on the the folkloric strings, and the food can be amazingly delicate. However I won't compare Au Bascou with L'Ami Jean because the two bistrots play on different scales. Au Bascou has more of the Paris bistrot style, while L'Ami Jean's cooking is more striking and much more soulful.

I agree about Chez Denise. It has been undergoing some sort of "l'amilouisation" in recent years. Food is so-so, though I hear the beef is still good. Anyway the place doesn't become interesting before 1 AM, when its true nature of late-night restaurant for theatergoers and party sluts takes over. Until that hour it is no more than a tourist trap.

The comments on Léo Fourneau's blog are amazing. Everybody, um, no, not everybody's there, but Pudlowski and a few others do put on quite a show.

It may very well have simplified their cooking. Dishes at ElBulli may be complex in their components and in their making, but they always appear as extremely simple as a result.

I went there only once and the food was nearly inedible, and so fussy and complicated that it felt like a self-parody of trendy cooking. A serving of poule au pot fell apart like tired cotton wool (and tasted like it too) and the broth was plain yuck. On top of the bargain, they sat the two of us in the narrow, cold and uncomfortable back room, where no one else sat of the whole evening, letting the regulars fill up the much warmer and nicer front room. I decided this first time would be the last. But judging by Pierre's report they seem to have simplified their cooking and put an emphasis on better ingredients. So it might be worth going there again.

I don't; I'd be thankful to learn.

For rum drinks, La Rhumerie (boulevard Saint-Germain) is unbeatable.

They're too polished, too reasonable, they don't have the gutsiness and generosity of good Mexican food. To be fair, Mexican ingredients have become hard to come by in Paris.

Truly there is no Mexican restaurant in Paris that could compete with what you can find in the US. Anahuacalli is nice but too light on the chili. I also like A la mexicaine, rue Quincampoix, near the Pompidou center, the place is run by Mexicans.

Note that it's not Jean, but Jean-Paul Arabian. I too have heard terrible things about his attitude. But I haven't been to the place.

Which is a very rare thing in France.

There are good points and bad points with every option. Bringing wine can be embarrassing for the host as it may interfere with whatever they have chosen to serve with their meal if they are a serious host. On the other hand if you're invited to a place where wine goes down fast, you can guess your bottle will do so as well, so make sure it's at the right temperature. Keeping the bottle for later, on the other hand, is considered unconvivial (though the practice does exist). Flowers are nice but they require extra fuss for the host, messing with trimming stalks, a heap of cellophane and vegetable debris, finding a vase, being extra careful with the thorns, etc., when putting the last hand to dinner or just being together with the guests should be more appreciated. The potted plant is very cute but, since it requires everlasting care from the host, I have often heard that it is not considered a very polite gift. However don't take that too seriously, nobody will hate you for bringing wine, flowers, plants, any small thing, etc., a gift is always appreciated as a principle. My favorite idea is a bottle of cool champagne for apéritif since it doesn't mess up the host's plans, nicely fits into the evening, and makes everybody happy. The idea is to bring something that can be shared by all the guests and not give the host extra work, so if nothing's agreed upon in advance, champagne is a lovely solution. Some exotic or interesting foodstuff is appreciated. In the inedibles category, a book is nice. Indeed — and to return to my general advice of not being too formal — I'd like to insist on the common practice of agreeing in advance with the host about what you should bring or not. This is much, much appreciated. Now don't take this advice lightly, if you hear the host answer vividly: "Nothing, please bring nothing, just bring yourself", it means just that. Don't think any further. Don't bring anything. It means that they've got everything all set, that the bottles are piling up, that they have no vase to spare and that there's no space to fit anything else into their small apartment. The French generally are frank about that: if they really want you to contribute something, they will plainly say so and make suggestions. If they don't want you to, they just say so. Now it all depends on the formality level, but as I most often find myself in informal spheres this only reflects my experience. But there are manners even within informal contexts. You can learn to decode the answers: "Could you bring dessert?" means "I haven't had time/imagination/energy to think up of something for the last course". That usually means: go visit a good pastry shop on the way (I really like stopping at an Asian market if I can manage that, and bring good-quality tropical fruit, I noticed this was more appreciated than pastries). Seasonal variant I've been asked this year: "Could you bring a galette des rois?". "You can bring some wine, we already have all the red we need, so bring some white" (or the other way around) is also heard. Nobody will ask you to bring champagne (it has to be a surprise) but everybody craves it. Nobody asks for flowers either because flowers are never needed, but they're always loved (all impracticality set aside). Sometimes also this can happen: "Ooh we're out of bread, could you get a couple baguettes on the way?" which means they're a little disorganized but they've given their whole attention to fixing a wonderful meal for you, and then they realized that they forgot the bread. More frequent than it sounds.

Oh, what a shame. That's really not what it's for!

I was sort of dreading to be called on this one. Cheek-pecking in France is a much inexplored science. What follows is how much (or how little) I know about it. SURE FACTS - No particular side, just keep your eyes open and find out which direction the other party is leaning in. You have at most two seconds for this. It is up to you to balance your body movement so that nobody breaks a nose in the action, because your vis-à-vis will certainly balance theirs. - Paris is two cheeks. - Montpellier (not sure about other parts of Languedoc) is four cheeks (I mean four kisses alternating on either cheek). - Brittany is three cheeks but I've been to places where it was four. I don't precisely remember where. Oh well. (Edit: it was the pays bigouden.) - Air-kissing is generally mocked because it's considered chi-chi, bourgeois, shallow and hypocritical. It's generally done between women who are accustomed to that practice, but most of the population avoids it. - Of course polite or friendly kissing shouldn't involve excessive display of affection unless the situation requires it. Not getting the other person's cheek wet is good manners (sorry for the detail but it's true). But doing it half-hearted is bad manners too. UNSURE - Not sure about other parts of France. Two cheeks is the most common. Some French-speaking countries of the former colonial empire have kept the French habit of kissing. I've noticed that in Benin where four-cheeks is the common rule (with an additional peck for display of special good vibes or extra affection). I've counted two in Morocco. - The situation is always changing. Whereas kissing, until recently, was for friends and family, the practice has spread to other situations, much less intimate. Job acquaintances, people working in the same trade where a certain informality is preferred: you may find yourself invited to kiss people you've never seen before. This is done particularly between girls. - Also, polite kissing between men has become very common, whatever the relationship: friendly, or even diplomatic or professional. It's not easy to draw rules from what you see and I don't think it is related to sexual freedom. It's just that kissing is spreading, and that more and more people do it as an ordinary gesture. As a general rule people in France these days touch each other more than they used to. Kissing is less and less associated with femininity. It would be very nice (and useful) to write a guidebook of world kissing and greetings gestures, as long as Polly Platt wasn't in the research team I'd gladly buy it. Or volunteer to do the research. Meanwhile I'll search the web for any information.

Régal focuses on products and home cooking. It has good articles on wines, compares products, and is not overly chef-oriented. It has a much "younger" feeling than other French food magazines. I don't know about subscribing in the US, I'll try and check.

Polly Platt got many, many things wrong, including those. I often wonder why, because she sounds like a keen observer. Maybe it's from the somewhat limited and "internationalized" portion of the population she has had to deal with, but even then I find her descriptions very weird indeed. I sometimes got the definite feeling that she mistook for French manners some behaviors that were designed especially for her by her French acquaintances on certain situations. She may have counted as "manners" some relative, isolated acts. Sometimes I also suspect some played pranks on her and she wrote them down seriously. It is definitely not a faux pas to use the bathroom at someone's place. Even during a meal, now that the 17th-18th century are over. Nobody will label you as bad-mannered for that. When you need to go, you go. Never forget that the French are extremely open-minded to the physical necessities of life. They're facts, not things to be ashamed of. If it ever was different, it's been forgotten for ages. Since you're mentioning the "orange juice" thing — it just doesn't exist. I've never heard of this anywhere and never experienced anything of the sort. I don't know where she got that.