You were right my friend, I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again, come back, all is forgiven.
2.0 Que du Bon aka Quedubon, 22, rue du Plateau in the 19th, 01.42.38.18.65, open 7/7, which is why I went on a Sunday noon. It’s to hell and gone, that is, where Eric Frechon used to ply his trade, near the Buttes Chaumont Metro stop.
They take no credit cards, my friend told me it was only OK for a local bio-natural wine place and the reviews were spotty, so why did I go? I could fall back on the Sir George Mallory answer, “Because it was there,” but I won’t, it was Sunday lunch, my friend Atar correctly said that in Paris, Sunday is the old Saturday – eg nothing’s open, so I didn’t have a lotta choices. But Quedubon was.
So. Enter. Nice reception, nice place, incredible list of very cheap wines (catch, it’s add-on 8 € per to open), but that’s OK, they’re still listed from 11- 58 €. Ardoise bigger than most wine bars. I ordered a “small” (read huge) platter of charcuterie and a souris (huge) of lamb.
The charcuterie was wonderful and will feed me for at least one more meal; the butter was not Bordier but Echine, but why the crappy bread and faux-Laguiole knife? Plus the lamb was not spring lamb but aged mutton, the mouse was rat-sized and cold at the end but there was a kick in the bean and sauce I thought might be piment but the chef insisted was just black pepper.
I had no coffee or dessert, the bill was a reasonable 40 € and I have really no complaints. However,
Go back? Nope, I’d rather do the next Sunday lunch at a known oldie.