Where to recommend first time visitors to eat

[Ptipois]

Is it actually possible to picnic in parc Monceau? I had no idea. If so, by all means, yes!

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Well, if you mean spreading out on a blanket with 15 people and wine and such, no, they have signs all over about the precious grass. But to sit on a bench with one's honey sharing some charcuterie and cheese and wine, it works. But as I said there are lots of people around, it's not calm.

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Well by "picnic", I really meant a place where you may bring a basket, baguettes and a bottle, and spreading out a tablecloth, and realizing you have forgotten the can opener, etc. Sitting on a bench with your camembert is very nice but you can do that anywhere, not only in parks. I do not think picnicking is allowed on the lawns in parc Monceau, no more than it is in jardin du Luxembourg or in jardin des Plantes. What I'm referring to is picnic-friendly parks.

[stoked]

Just wanted to say thank-you for the list. We were in Paris and Italy for 18 days and managed to get a seat at L'Ami Jean our last night in Paris. It was excellent, I just wish my french comprehension was better, we were practically eenie-meenie-moe on the menu.

[SWISS_CHEF]

Thanks John and the rest of you. We are headed to Paris this weekend and we have not been there in a few years so this is very helpful. Will pick one and report back.

Now let's see, I wonder where I put my camera!

[SWISS_CHEF]

didn't make it... hope it isn't the flu...

[ewindels]

John, and Parisians in general, regarding Severo: since the publication of Mark Bittmans' steak frites article in the New York Times earlier this year extolling this restaurant as his favorite steak frites place in Paris, the gist I've gotten from blogs and other web sites is that a) the place is now all but impossible to get in to and b) management has taken an antagonistic approach towards the streams of Americans herding there on account of the recommendation (of which and I my friends were, quite honestly, soon to be a part). Would Parisians consider it worth going "out of their way", especially given that steak frites is not an umcommon dish in Paris and can be found in any other number of locations? If not, Entrecote? Other recos? Curious for the opinion of locals.

[fresh_a]

Why not google gridskipper's "Best Other Steak Frites in Paris"

[John Talbott]

John, and Parisians in general, regarding Severo: since the publication of Mark Bittmans' steak frites article in the New York Times earlier this year extolling this restaurant as his favorite steak frites place in Paris, the gist I've gotten from blogs and other web sites is that a) the place is now all but impossible to get in to and b) management has taken an antagonistic approach towards the streams of Americans herding there on account of the recommendation (of which and I my friends were, quite honestly, soon to be a part).  Would Parisians consider it worth going "out of their way", especially given that steak frites is not an umcommon dish in Paris and can be found in any other number of locations?  If not, Entrecote?  Other recos?  Curious for the opinion of locals.

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Recall that there's also the Bis de Severo where two of us liked the Cote de boeuf. Going out of ones way is a relative thing; the Severos are on one of my Metro lines so.....

[ewindels]

I say essentially because the last visit was 25 years ago on a student tour, and since I remember nothing about the culinary side of that trip, this was to all intents and purposes like a first time visit.

Some general observations:

• Choosing amongst the absurd number of restaurants in Paris -- and in doing so avoiding the tourist traps – is a patently overwhelming experience, much more challenging than any other location I have ever visited. I nearly considered cancelling the trip because of decision anxiety.

• The advantage, however, is that if you can't get in to the place you intended, comparable or better alternatives are unlimited.

• If you do have a list of places you're determined to visit, I strongly recommend whenever possible booking ahead of time (no matter how out of the way or obscure you may think they are), either directly or via your concierge or whatever. As in most large cities around the world, including if not especially New York, I very much doubt that there is any longer an off-season in Paris (except possibly August, when France shuts down completely), and the city was packed with tourists the week between the holidays. With a number of the destination restos closed until New Year's or later, getting in to the alternatives proved quite a challenge. Bottom line was that I didn't get to any of the places I intended to, but see point 2 above.

• In preparation for which: before you go, get yourself a full size map of Paris, or one of the books of maps by arondissment, and mark out your destinations. This includes food stores, charcuteries, frommageries, boulangeries, patisseries, and other places of culinary interest. Finding them otherwise can be a futile experience. Parisians, who I'm sure in general don’t think about these things, were of little help in this regard: our concierge and people in the various arrondissments themselves had rarely heard of the stores and places I wanted to visit. A certain amount of pre-travel preparation can save you much frustration and fulfill your expectations.

• I do not recommend seeing how much one can stuff oneself during one's stay, especially if, like mine, it's a relatively brief one.

• It does help, however, to travel with friends of the above determination, which allows one to sample more than one might otherwise.

• Apropos, bring some Pepto. Better yet, Imodium.

I am deeply indebted to my traveling companions D&J who, owing to their being partisans of a certain other New York-based foodie web site, I will not fully name for their own physical protection. Their innate good humor, love for Paris and unflappable conviction in their intestinal capacities, made the whole trip a terrific treat. And D was kind enough to do all of the photography. I am also grateful to the Parisian and Francophile gulleters, whose thoughtful posts and recommendations provided the dizzying array of options we worked with.

Enfin, les restos, en ordre chronologique! The choices were a bit hit-and-miss. We had vaguely discussed a starred option or two, but the appalling state of the dollar didn’t make that a priority. And I apologize for the lack of information on wines, but in all honesty, almost nothing we drank stood out enough to be worth writing down.

Chez Denise, 5, rue des Prouvaires, tel: 1 4 236 21 82

We hit the ground running after dropping our bags at our hotel (the Brittanique in the 1st, Ave. Victoria, a nifty, quaint and relatively inexpensive place across the street from the Theatre du Chatelet) by lunching at this renowned and venerable holdover from the original location of the Les Halles market. The restaurant is lively and bustling and convivial, and a good launching point into Parisian eating -- if you're prepared. The beefy workers and managers of the market may have decamped, but you’d never know it from the dizzyingly hearty fare this bistro continues to offer, and unless you have the constitution of a longshoreman, I strongly recommend caution and prudence. Dazed by hunger and / or jet lag, we dove right in with both appetizers and entrees, none of which we came close to finishing, while the few Parisians around us, sensibly sharing a dish or two between four or six people, eyed us with pity.

My chicken liver pâté du chef, a thick slice of rustic terrine, was superb and hearty.

Escargots were fine, particularly the ambrosial butter which is their principle raison d'etre.

A frisee salad with croutons provided a nice and seemingly healthy contrast.

For entrees we had hachis parmentier, a sort of shepherd's pie crowned with beautifully crusty parmesan-laced mashed potatoes;

steak tartare, which I agreed with J was a bit on the wan and underseasoned side;

haricots mouton, a casserole of white beans and big chunks of on-the-bone mutton in a thick tomato sauce, braised to a symbiotic beauty;

and an onglais with frites – easily the best of the lot, the meat possessing a true, tangy beefiness that one rarely finds in the States.

A dessert that looked like some form of bread pudding heavily crowned with whipped cream was briefly considered, but after the above we were starting to feel ill. And of course the great thing about Paris is that, having eschewed dessert at the restaurant, you can always swing in to a patisserie on your way back to the hotel for an alternative before passing out from jet lag.

L'Ecluse (Grands Augustin)

Not (or barely) withstanding the mammoth lunch, we were loathe to waste a precious mealtime during such a brief trip, so a wine bar for dinner seemed like a good option, liquids being generally easier to consume in (and after) large quantities. This 6th arrondissement location of a chain of wine bars was recommended by our concierge, and turned out to be the perfect restorative after the pigout at Chez Denise. It’s a teeny little boite right on the Seine with a nice list of options by the glass, and a small menu of comestibles. My friends shared the platter of excellent charcuterie, accompanied by a slightly underseasoned warm potato salad with mache, while I salved my stomach with the soupe a l'onion, which I would have preferred not be deconstructed (the croutons and shredded cheese served as separate accompaniments rather than melded under a broiler), but which was delicious all the same.

Creperie Sarrasine et Fromentiere, 5, ave. gregoir de tours, 6th

Not to be denied dessert on their first day in Paris, my friends marched further in to Saint Germain, and we wound up here for crepes. I managed a good half of my Tartin: sautéed apples, caramel and crème fraiche

J went for the Tarantais (raclette, potatoes, ham and crème fraiche),

and D for the one with bananas, chocolate and whipped cream.

We washed these down respectively with cider, cotes du rhone and coffee. All perfectly fine: I don't have enough experience to say whether they were outstanding or authentic or whatever.

Le Dauphin, 176, rue St. Honoré, 1st

This charming little brasserie one block north of the Louvre is a great place to lunch if, as I was, you’re spending the day at the museum. The crock of olives surrounded by house-made saucisson is a great pastime while you contemplate the menu.

My terrine of pork and duck livers with onion marmalade was delicious,

and the creamy pumpkin soup, gilded with a few chunks of foie gras, was a warm, smooth treat.

The fine cassoulet was enough to feed the three of us on its own, particularly with its buried treasures of duck and pig parts and products.

D’s bowl of macaroni with jambon and cheese in a cream sauce was a little blah.

My rabbit stew, in a thin but excellent broth with various winter and root vegetables, was very satisfying.

Angelina, 226 rue de Rivoli, 1st

What's a hearty, completely satiating lunch without following it up by visiting one of Paris' most renowned tea salons? Located about a five block walk from Le Dauphin, across the street from the Tuileries, this charming old world tea / pastry shop with its creamy boiserie and gilt mirrors conjures up images of elegant Parisian grandmothers taking their immaculately dressed and gloved granddaughters for a special Sunday outing. Naturally we had to try their famous hot chocolate, which our waitress swore consisted of nothing but milk and high quality bittersweet chocolate. It is mind-bogglingly rich and delicious and should be taken in small and cautious doses.

It seemed a shame to miss out on the dazzling array of pastries displayed at the entrance, so I forced myself to try a madeleine, while D bravely went for a Mont Blanc: a disk of meringue crowned with a dome of sweet chestnut mousse so rich that one bite made the room spin. One bite is pretty much all she could muster.

If your stomach is not otherwise pleading for mercy, this is a lovely spot to while away the late hours of a dark, grey Parisian winter afternoon, especially if you're lucky enough to be tucked in to the big comfy sofa in the back room.

Vincent et Vincent, 60 rue J&J Rousseau, 3rd

I suppose it should not have entirely surprised me that, with this surfeit of la cuisine francaise, my companions demanded a break by way of Italian food. This is a small, barebones spot, though food-wise it can hardly be considered real Italian, but it made little difference as I was too stuffed to do much more than nibble. The wan antipasti plate would be right at home in New York’s Little Italy (for those of you unfamiliar with New York, this is not a compliment), as would the linguine Bolognese: over cooked and undersalted pasta with a pallid sauce. The shells with cheese and cream were, not surprisingly, as fine they sound.

L'ami Louis, 32 rue du Vertbois, 3rd

This storied little brasserie is a long-time favorite of my traveling companions, so I was happy to try it out. Small and dark and wood paneled, with its white jacketed waiters, the restaurant exudes a certain old world, 1950’s charm which is enhanced if the weather is cold and you’re sitting near the little pot bellied stove up front. Portions here – at least the ones I saw – are behemoth. A single order of côte de beauf, requested by a few of the tables around us, could easily have fed the entire restaurant -- the copious leftovers must make the staff very happy.

{Note: there are pictures of this meal, but since ImageGullet has been down for a week now, I gave up on trying to include them.)

Our three torchons of foie gras, served plain with thick slabs of toasted bread, were almost indecent in their size. I am perhaps too spoiled at expecting additions or contrasts to my foie gras: a little sel gris or contrasting accompaniment or something would have been welcome to offset the fatty blandness of the foie gras.

My friends then split the poulet roti, about which they had been raving for weeks:and I got the cote de veau grillée, a monster slab on the bone healthily limned with fat and crowned by a substantial wedge of oozing herb butter.

With this came a tall tangle of almost needle-thin frites. We had a half bottle of a white something with the foie gras, and a full bottle of a red something with the mains. Total came to approximately €360.

Make no mistake, I enjoyed myself. My companions are so fond of this restaurant, and enjoyed their meal so much, that it was impossible not to share their enthusiasm. Remove this factor, however, and based solely on the cuisine and price point I can’t say as I’d return. Ironically, the food was along the lines of what I’d been looking for as an alternative to the heavier brasserie cuisine: good ingredients prepared straightforwardly with minimal additions and fussings and sauces and such. I just found the portions slightly indecent, and the prices considerably so. The food was well prepared, but given the same raw ingredients of chicken and veal, I could have produced the exact same results in my miniscule kitchen at home, and for that price I expect more (a plain chicken roasted in goose fat is a plain chicken roasted in goose fat, and the exact locale or ambiance doesn’t necessarily warrant charging an arm and a leg for it.)

You might think after this Brobdingnagian meal we couldn’t possibly contemplate, much less consume, anything else. Foolish mortals. But we took advantage of a long, slow stroll from the restaurant to the Ile St. Louis to give us breathing room before parking ourselves at Berthillon, 31, Rue St Louis en l'ile, where I limited myself to a few bites of my companions’ outstanding chocolate ice cream. Defniitely merits a visit.

Au Sauvignon 80, Rue Saints Pères, 6th

In search again for someplace to try a range of wines by the glass and a little nibble, our concierge sent us here (our first options being either fully booked or closed). It’s not some place you have to go out of your way for: the wines offered were fairly unremarkable, though the platter of tea sandwiches filled with saucisson, rillettes, and something else unidentifiable made just enough of a dinner after our huge lunch.

I will just mention that my indomitable companions, not in the least daunted by the enormous lunch, proceeded on after this for pizza and pasta, about which they were very complimentary the next morning.

Le Comptoir, 9, carrefour de l'Odéon, 6th.

Paydirt: after the previous grotesquely heavy meals of cuisine bourgeois, here at last was something not only manageable size-wise, but quite possibly the best meal of the visit. The place is tiny and you’re all but sitting on top of the people around you, but it’s worth it.

Not being a big lentil soup fan, D’s bowl of it made little impression on me but delighted her.

Her hubsand’s hefty salad of hearts of romaine with foie gras, haricots and artichoke hearts was a meal in itself, but split nicely between the three of us.

My boudin blanc was softer and fluffier than goose down and delicately flavored.

D had a tournedo of duck confit -- a compressed disc of luscious, just rich enough shredded duck meat --

and J the braised pork belly. All three came with portions of the insanely silky and velvety potato puree.

Even the house wines here outperformed the stuff we’d had elsewhere, and the bread was superb, particularly in contrast to the almost ubiquitous – and to my taste dull – Poilane offered at our other meals.

Mark Bittman’s article in The New York Times about steak frites restaurants had been the subject of much excited discussion during the planning of our trip, and our choice for numerous reasons finally fell on Le Relais de Venise in the 17th, for which we set out early in order to take no chances, as they don't take reservations. Thanks to a first cab driver who imprisoned us in traffic for 40 minutes, and a second who couldn’t find the restaurant, we arrived to find a line of at least 50 people stretching down the block. Happily, Bittman’s alternative recommendation of Chez George 273, Boulevard Pereire and right across the street from Venise, turned out to be, I suspect, a much happier way to end our trip. This is a charming, warm, old world brasserie. The service was lovely, and the food, if not mind blowing, was terrific.

Champagne to start and to accompany the little dish of rillettes which was so good we would have asked for more if our apps hadn’t shown up.

My friends both had the frisee aux lardons, essentially a monster bowl of lardoms with a few crisp leaves of frisee and a perfectly poached egg. Balance-wise it may not have been correct, but was it delicious.

My crème de pomme de terres was velvety and rich, with foie gras in the blend: a magnificent example of a classic velouté.

The entrecôte that Bittman had enthused about didn’t seem to be on the menu, so I opted instead for the filet, which was fine: filet hasn’t much flavor, no matter what country you’re in, but this was beautifully cooked and presented.

The accompanying fries interestingly enough were of the consistency and cut you would find in a New York diner – a bit on the thick side, crooked, cooked a little darker than we’d had so far. We certainly polished them off.

J’s sole béarnaise was a lovely piece of fish, for which the utterly bland and flavorless béarnaise did nothing.

D’s lamb however was perfect pink and juicy and luscious, accompanied by braised beans. A bottle of red sancerre with the mains.

This being our last night, a final course seemed imperative. The tarte au poire was a classic example on absurdly ethereal pastry, though I thought the filling was a bit mushy and would have preferred more definition and texture to the fruit.

My two cheeses (I have no idea what they were) made a perfect ending.

The kicker, of course, was the profiteroles, the picture of which I trust speaks for itself.

Equally as enjoyable as the food was the atmosphere: the staff were lively and friendly, and everyone in the restaurant was clearly enjoying themselves, including if not especially the table next to us of three elegantly turned out septuagenarian couples, whose appetites put our own to shame.

Bottom line: I would say that one ought to visit Paris at least once a year. It may be a hazard to your arteries and / or waistline, but its good for the soul. Can’t wait for the many subsequent trips!

[docsconz]

Nice, detailed report - thanks! Which would you say was your best meal strictly based on the food after Le Comptoir, which you said was your favorite meal?

[ewindels]

Nice, detailed report - thanks! Which would you say was your best meal strictly based on the food after Le Comptoir, which you said was your favorite meal?

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Hi doc!

Strictly food-based, divorced from settings or companions, I'd have to say Chez Denise. Chez George was a terrific experience, but much of that was wrapped up in the convivial atmosphere and companionship. Divorced from all other considerations, across the board Chez Denise was, with a few exceptions, the next most satisfying meal after Comptoir. And I say that despite having been this close to passing out at the table from jet lag, a smoke-choked atmosphere which can potentially affect the tastebuds, and portions that could have fed a regiment. But I absolutely look forward to going back and having that pate du chef and the onglais.

[robyn]

Some good general advice here. A couple of notes. Michelin makes a nice little spiral bound book of detailed maps of Paris which will fit into a purse or "man bag". Much easier to use than a big old thing you have to keep folding and unfolding.

If you are a "Pepto" user - bring it with you. Or check what the status of the drug is in France these days (last time we were there - it was by prescription only - which was kind of a surprise). For that matter - bring any drug - prescription or OTC - which you use on a regular or even irregular basis with you when you leave your home country. You never know what you'll be able to find or get abroad with or without a doctor's prescription. Robyn