6.4 Chez Grenouille, 52, rue Blanche in the 9th, 01.42.81.34.07, closed Saturday lunch and Sundays, lunch menus at 15 and 25 and a 40 E carte (but they're very flexible about mixing and matching and not into gouging you), has been open 5.5 months and is run by two absolutely charming folks; he cooking in a 2x4 space and she managing the salle and explaining each dish or wine in exquisite, delightful and informative detail.
I said it flew under the radar because I saw nothing from the big boys after it opened this summer (they were probably all in Provence) and only when I was flipping through Pudlo saw he's named it his Coup de Coeur in the 9th; then Astrid T'Serclaes in the JDD commented most positively so I proposed it to my friend, the best Brit-born but French-living food blogger/writer I know.
It's in the midst of theater-land and is deceptively small (16 covers) but has a huge basement seating are, good I'd guess for a private party of 20 or so, but how could he cook for so many?
Anyway, we liked some things on the "menu" and some on the carte, so we mixed and matched. My friend started with what were called scrambled eggs with morrels but were so finely diced they looked like a mousse and were very woody and good. I, on the other hand, it being freezing cold outside, ordered something I never do - onion soup gratinee - wow! The soup was no dishwater thin, salty mess but an immensely reduced stock with a fine piece of dark toast and perfectly melted cheese. So now one waits for the other shoe to fall or clunk, depending.
Take a look at that; dark brown almost burnt pastry surrounding dark dark beef and triple dark sauce; very good, served with nice roasted potatoes. And I had sweetbreads in a creamy sauce with morrels, all perfectly complementary in taste.
Finally, Madame asked if we wished a dessert and reeled them off (the only problem with this place is that everything is on one ardoise or other) and my pal said, we'll have the baba for two, which she had explained was made according to an 150 year old recipe. I turned to him and said "how did you know I wanted it," and he said, I just looked at your face. It was dense and full of rum but came with a shot glass of what tasted like orange brandy, said he, but turns out everyone thinks that about this rum.
We had two coffees and while fixing them she saw me eyeing the Calvados she was pouring for another couple - and she comp'd me to my coffee (which wasn't serre but I said was fine) and the Calva which too came straight from the Normand producer. How about that?
Our bill was 98.50 Euros.
Go? Now if this place holds up, it's going to be flooded with the types of visitors who overbooked Regalade and Cerisaie. Its conceit, ancient recipes with modern ingredients, comes straight from the Jadis playbook and is a great idea in pretty much of a culinary dessert.
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