Sept 2006 – Violin, Petrus, Astier, Et dans mon...

[John Talbott]

Sept 2006 – Violin, Petrus, Astier, Et dans mon coeur, Jardinier, Orangerie (Del Burgo), Vieux B, Plancha, Wadja, Minzingue, Gazzetta, Fish

8.5 Le Violin d’Ingres, coordinates well-known, I know, I know, it’s not new, but it has a new 45 € menu-carte (announced in Les Echos last Friday) with 5-5-5 dishes and 4-4 specials. Three of us, all committed eGullet nuts, ate there this week and it was, in the words of one of us, “bloody wonderful.” Pure back to the future: by that I mean old classic dishes brought up to 2006 standards. We started with a blini with salmon and caviar, a millefeuille with foie gras and ox tongue, and fois gras with a divine gelée – great start with a great white Graves with which my companions were celebrating; then a palombe with lentils that was pure heaven (I had that), a tete de veau and pied de porc (classic dishes that were cooked modernly to perfection) with a wonderful Pic St Loup; and ending up with two of us having a vanilla soufflé with an incredible salted-caramel sauce and the other poor thing suffering with raspberries with mascarpone. I am too discrete to mention who else was there that day but they included one three star food critic, one two star chef and several not so bad other food folk (identified by the most branché of us). The bill I cannot reveal because of my partners’ exuberance and indiscretion but for normal human beings, the addition would be, for a couple - 45x2=90+22=102 €. You gotta problem wi dat for a one star who is simultaneously running three glorious places?

8.0 Petrus, 12, place du Marechal Juin in the 17th, 0.43.80.15.95, open everyday (it says). Figaroscope gave it 2 hearts and said it had a new team, so despite the warning of a steep price (50-60 € without beverages,) I figured that on a Sunday, it would suit my needs. And, oh my, did it. It looks the same as always on that great circle of Marechal Juin which is especially quiet and nice on Sundays but the quite large young chef looked new and friendly and welcoming. There is a very impressive carte with 20-30 items, of which 12-15 were market specials; the prices were not shocking and there were lots of wines by glass, ¼ and 45 cl (a Bordeaux or Cheverny for 10 €, for example.) I ordered supions with chorizo and piment d’Espelette – that was properly spicy, not too little, not too much. Then, tails of langoustines that were tiede on top of fresh par-cooked veggies (asparagus, carrots, mange-touts and haricots verts) with a sauce that would have made Fernand Point or Georges Blanc proud; simply delicious, all those dead critters. I had no dessert but did have the Illy coffee. The bill = 51.60 €. The downsides: oh I hate sinking into banquettes so far up my chin just reaches the table; the bread was a bit soggy; the frizzy red-haired ex-Music Hall beauty with the germ phobia did carry her cleaning operations on a little bit too openly; and the woman smoking those thin long cigarettes made up for their “lightness” by never letting up.

7.5 Astier, 44, rue JP Timbaud in the 11th, 01.43.57.16.35, open everyday, is one of those old places that one worries will, like the Biche au bois, Au Bon Acceuil or Aux Lyonnais do poorly when taken over by others rather than thrive as have places like Gaya Rive Gauche, Petrus + Drouant. Those who follow the Paris resto news in the Digest know from September’s postings that everyone from Francois Simon (“they survived the transition”) to Philippe Toinard (“100% Bistro, 100% Parisian”) is raving about this old gem and with good reason. I’m not sure how they did it, but the new gang, connected formerly with the Café Moderne, that I had mixed feelings about, to say the least, has breathed new life into it, without destroying its charm – e.g., low prices, down-to-earth dishes and that famed cheese spread of 15 marvels. The head waitguy, whom I believe is named Robert, really knows and, more importantly, loves, his wines. He warmly welcomed me, immediately engaging me in a chat that lasted all meal, about reds and whites named Talbot and Talbott and he instantly offered to crack a bottle open for a half-liter of Pinot he thought was perfect with my meal and he was so correct. Forget the décor; it’s just as it always been and that’s fine by me and the crowd is surprisingly replete with coats & ties for such a bourgeois place. The formulas/menus are 18.50 for one course, 23.50 for two and 28 € for three with an extra 1.5 for the cheese. There were three specials on the chalkboard and one predictable daily special; I mixed and matched: first the warm sliced tongue with a garniture that had just the right sweet/sour offsetting tastes; then the beef cheek stew with a sauce so rich and brown you almost wept; then the famous cheese spread and for dessert, while I never order it, counting on my wife Colette to, Francois Simon convinced me to go with the oeufs a la neige and he was so right. The charges for all that plus coffee = 51.50 €. A fault, sorry - as a critic manqué I should have found one fault, but I can’t, except to stretch and note that my neighbors had to ask for their cookie with dessert. Big deal!

6.0 Et dans mon coeur il y a…., 56, rue de Lancry in the 10th, 01.42.38.07.37, open everyday, occupies what was once the charming old restaurant, the Bouledogue Bistrot; they have retained the wooden paneling, added lots to tsotskes to the ledges but new edgy chairs to the traditional tables; there are several formulas, some including wine or water, there’s wine by the glass or by the reasonably priced pitcher. I started with two perfectly sautéed and not too buttery slices of foie gras (for 8 €, beat that), moved on to a huge cocotte of lamb (not mutton) with Magrebian spices (or one can have the fish of the day, that day a pasta with coques) and polenta with white raisins that was incredible (and I detest most polenta) and finally a dessert of pureed bananas under a fluffy banana whip, very tasty = 46 €. The neighborhood is delightful, lots of young families; no tattoos or piercings here. They get extra credit for the nifty miniature whisk sugar stirrers and super bread. This is a place that cares; it’s why we come to Paris and try new places; inventive, imaginative and fun.

5.0 Le Jardinier, 5, rue Richer in the 9th, 01.48.24.79.79, 01.48.24.79.79, closed Sundays, is located in a charming hotel (the Peyrus) in the center of the 9th – as I was walking there, an American said to his female companion – “there are so many restaurant choices here” – and it’s true but alas not so many good ones. Le Jardinier, though, qualifies; 2 courses at lunch are 17; three are 21 €. The craft-fair-type napery and flowery paintings are all in keeping with the garden theme as is the vegetable-dominated menu (which was what I wanted, since I was eating out again that night). I had a langoustine bisque (super), raie with capers and cabbage (the raie was great, the cabbage less successful) and finished with an OK crepe with fresh but not ripe (unfortunately) fruits. With wine (which they had by the glass, ¼ and ½ liter carafes, full and half bottles) and very good coffee it was 32 €. They get an extra mark for having a young waitress who delivered a replacement fork to a nearby table on a napkin-covered plate rather than bare-handed as the uninitiated are prone to do.

3.0 l’Orangerie, 28 rue St Louis en l’Ile in the 4th, 01.46.33.93.98, is in a newly plastered and painted place (one can still smell it, not unpleasantly) taken over by Michel Del Burgo ex-Taillevent + Negresco. It was the second week after it opened so the kinks should have been worked out. I ate with a notable eGullet member and we made a classic mistake, we ordered the same thing: rougets pissaladiere (so called) that had a quite complex series of flavors that was pretty good but also veal a la plancha for two that we immediately agreed was not only tough but dry and tasteless, accompanied by tiny potatoes and mushrooms and a sauce whose quality about which we disagreed. The roll was pretty ordinary as were mignardises and coffee; but oddly enough, the amuse-bouche of a blancmange was super. We had a bottle of one of the least expensive wines, no dessert, one coffee and no bottled water and our check was still 164 € that I must regretfully say was one of the worse price-quality places of the rentrée; my friend made sure M. del Burgo was there that day and then wished them good luck – they’ll need it.

1.0 Le Vieux Bistro, 14, rue du Cloitre Notre Dame in the 4th, 01.43.54.18.95, open 7/7 – you know it, you’ve been by it 1,000 times, and if you’re an American, you’ve eaten there, and if you’re like me, you try it every 10 years because in your pigeon brain you recall something was good once long ago. So when you read that it too had been taken over, this time by a veteran of the Paname bistro and got 2 hearts in Figaroscope, sucker that you are, you go. Emmanuel Rubin says “one has the thought that one has eaten here in 1972, 1966 or 1955.” M. Rubin - we think alike, alas. It is indeed the same place, not a poster or bottle changed – charming, reassuring and yet frightening. Sit down at the jammed tables. Why jammed? Who knows, there never are more than 6 customers, all locals, puzzling, eh? The “menu” is cheap, two dishes for 20, three for 26 €, but you soon find out why. I had the salmon tartare and started off thinking it was pretty good, on a par with the Bistro du Dome, my gold standard, and the dressing on the fresh well-chosen greens tartly offset the Omega3 fats, but like brandade is to my buddy P., after a few bites it was simply too much. Then the confit de canard – standard test – can I do better cooking that I get at Galeries Lafayette? Yup. And the potatoes, which should be gloriously greasy and garlicky and evil – were inedible. Finally the chocolate mi-cuit (moelleux really, with a nasty spin) – again, get out the ruler – can my daughter, the one we didn’t send to cooking school, do better? Right again. So there we go. Except the bill arrives – 82 €, did I mention I was bowling alone? yes, my erstwhile friends had abandoned me, smart folks they. 82 €, now Rubin had prepared me for an inflated bill, but not for resuscitation. But happily, just like in the US when they lose your hotel reservation, the waitperson explained that it “was the computer.” Airplane and train phobics stop reading here. “The computer?” Pilot error, I’d say.

1.0 La Plancha 5, ave de St Germain in Maisons Laffitte (78) 01.39.12.03.75, closed Sunday and Tuesday nights and Wednesday. You know the dilemma: it’s Sunday morning and you’ve gotta eat; this place got 2 hearts a few weeks ago in Figaroscope and is near a nifty chateau – why not? It’s jammed into a space almost lost amidst a pizza joint, creperie and cafes across from the RER A5, looks pretty nice inside and had a most interesting menu (a French twist to Spanish stuff). It’s got a 28 € menu and wines starting at 14 € for full bottles; although a la carte will run at least 50 €. The amuse gueules were a good start; a tiny tasty pizzetta and a croquette of melted cheese and ham. The wine was delivered promptly and promptly chilled. Good start, except for the fussy kid across the room. First course: tapas gourmands: great display of gazpacho, fried eperlans, marinated sardines, brochettes of shrimp and peppers, and chorizo and manchego cheese – but the chef was not up to the task of actually cooking them. Some of my readers have suggested I provide more detail and less telegraphic criticism, so here goes: some of the eperlans were over the hill (e.g., fishy-smelling and old) and could not be improved with salt and the teeny slice of lemon provided; the sardines had no zip and were too cold; the gazpacho was as pallid as it was at Fish earlier this week {is there a message there?}; the chorizo did have salt, indeed too much, and was clearly industrial; and the shrimp was OK but the peppers again lacked character (I couldn’t help thinking that they were the exact contrary of Richard Gere’s great delivery of the Chicago song about that old dazzle-dazzle.) Next course, a dorade royal cooked well but tasteless, whose accompaniments of spinach and mushroom couldn’t save the main product. I’d ordered the “menu,” so I reluctantly ordered the dessert of chocolate mousse, caramel sauce with salt and coffee ice cream and while it didn’t redeem the meal, it certainly redeemed the husband-wife team who comprise the waiter and patisseur. The place gets extra points for the basil leaves in the finger bowl and cool curved-bottom carafes for the “young wines,” but loses points for the incredibly bad industrial bread and incredibly expensive and bad Segofredo coffee. The bill = 42 €. In contrast to Francois Simon’s query “Should one go?” I propose another - “Should one go even if you live upstairs?” Answer here – No! It’s horrible to say, but an enthusiastic staff just cannot overcome poor product and zestless cooking.

0.75 Wadja, 10, rue de la Grande Chaumiere in the 6th, 01.46.33.02.02, closed Sundays, has always had a warm spot in my heart, so when (1) I read that Thierry Coué, ex-Amogenes, a place I have mixed-feelings about, but that’s another story, had taken over at the piano (2) it got 2 hearts in that week’s Figaroscope and (3) my plane to the States was cancelled and I had 48 hours on my hands – it was a natural. I entered a nearly empty place that looked identical to my last visit 8 years ago. There was a “menu” at 15 €; holy cow! But the choices on the “menu” were not to my liking: either one had taboulé with fresh mint or an egg over lentils for a starter; an onglet or lieu for a main; and plum tart or pain perdu for dessert - I demanded the menu, the carte. I ordered the girolles, safe bet eh?, but they were devoid of butter, salt or garlic that would have given them some oomph. Then the paleron of beef, advertised as crusty, which it was, but also undistinguished. So I cut my losses and left. The bill = 53.15 €, ouch!

0.50 Le Minzingue, 5 pl Etienne Pernet in the 15th, 01.45.32.48.54, closed Sundays and Mon-Weds for dinner, located where used to sit the great old bouillabaisse palace Le Quinson, is a horror. Let me count the ways! It’s got classic bistrot posters and food, from terrines to tartares, from herring to onglet and chocolate desserts. Me, I was eating out tonight at the house of a chef I have enormous respect for, so I wanted to eat light; therefore, I ordered two starters; only smart thing I did. My os a moelle was unredeemable on the substandard bread, even with a liberal sprinkling of salt crystals, and the dressing on the side-salad was unappealing and the tomatoes (and remember, they’re terrific now,) were hot house Holland babies, and the vol a vent of escargots with mushrooms in a cream sauce was equally without luster; bottom line, one got a ton of fat, calories and heart-clogging stuff with no taste. Francois Simon always asks “should one go?” me, I say “can’t you say anything nice?” Yes, they have a ton of wines at 20 € the bottle, also available by the glass and pichet; there are lots of comely young women walking by who clearly live in the nabe; the place really looks like a 1950’s bistrot and if you were in France shortly after the war, my war anyway, this would remind you of places struggling to recover with inadequate staff, poor product and forgotten cooking techniques. As deGaulle said, this is “Paris outragé, Paris brisé, Paris martyrisé…..” The bill = 29.50 € which even if they paid me that much, I wouldn’t repeat.

HS* La Gazzetta, 29, rue de Cotte in the 12th, 01.43.47.47.05, closed Sunday dinner and Mondays, is a place almost impossible to rate. Why? Because, it’s chef’d by a Swede (Petter Nilsson from the Trois Salons in Uzes, where Colette and I were just ten weeks ago); has a French staff and an Italian name and heritage. So what’s the food like? Well, after reading the big boys last week, who all made it sound French, I made a reservation Monday, took one look at the menu and fled – pizza, risotto, lasagna; yuck. But then my friend, the real food critic said, ah come on, neither of us has been, so we went four days later. And it is weird, weird nice, not weird my gawd. The menu is all in threes like Drouant intends and Gagniare does; three small starters; each main with three things, desserts ditto. My pal and I started with the three small entrees (a tomato-carrot+something gazpacho, a pizzetta with scraped celery root and a brandade with yogurt;) then he had the risotto with toasted tiny nut pieces and pumpkin and a jellied yogurt slice – I the mullet with balsamic sauce on a bed of root veggies; finishing with a cheese (rove de garrigues) and orange cake with yogurt and something else. Sorry I cannot recall all the third ingredients but here’s my take: the starters hark back to the chef’s smorgasbord past, the mains are largely Italian and the desserts French; least successful in my mind. We had lots of wine (they it have by the glass, ficelle and bottle from France, Spain & Italy); superb ristretto Illy and got out for 81.20 € for two mind you.

HS* Fish la Boissonerie in the 6th, about which much has been written in this Forum, was a mixed experience. My eating partner and I both thought the firsts were pallid (foie gras and gazpacho with shrimp and calamari respectively) but the chef redeemed himself with a good slice of oven-cooked salmon and a superb wild duck (indeed, perhaps the best I and my companion have ever had). No dessert, lots of wine and lots of noise; I cannot reveal the amount of the bill because my guest treated me; unfair but true.

Scale (subject to fickleness and change):

10 - Giradet in the old days.

9 - Ducasse, Bocuse, Loiseau in their prime

8 - Ze Kitchen Galerie, Violin d’Ingres, Chez les Anges, Thierry Burlot now

7- Bistro Cote Mer at its flowering best

6 - Cinq Mars, Repaire de Cartouche

5 - Terminus Nord

4 - 2 Pièces Cuisine, a neighborhood place

3 - Le Bouclard, ditto

2 - Sale + Pepe, ditto

1 - le Nord-Sud, ditto

0 - Auguste, The Place

Ø- Iode

HS* = outside classification, unfair to rate given my state of mind at Fish and the mixed fare at La Gazzetta.

Edited December 17, 2006 by John Talbott (log)

[pierre45]

Del burgo ex chef of BRistol and taillevent has taken over L'orangerie located on ile St louis.

The atmosphere has a polished boring look.The cuisine technically good is uninspiring .

John T and I had pissaladiere de rouget for entree and a veau roast for a main dish at a recent lunch. They were both OK and equal to what you get in an ordinary bistrot.

This was the restaurant's 2d week ,so perhaps it may improve ,but at 60 euro a person a rip off.

Figaroscope states that its already popular with americans

[Felice]

Any more reviews or thoughts on L'Orangerie since Del Burgo took over?