6.0 Le Pavillon du Lac, Parc des Buttes Chaumont (west of the Place Armand Carrel) in the 19th, 01.42.00.07.21, closed Mondays is a resto that I wanted to eat at especially because the Messrs. Rubin and Simon, Figaroscope's crack food journalists, disagreed 180° and I love that sort of situation - who was right? Rubin who gave it a busted heart for its pathetic welcome, gross mistakes and banal food or Simon who said "Faut-il y aller? Oui."
I went on a spectacularly beautiful, sunny and just warm enough (73° F) day, in the spectacularly beautiful Buttes-Chaumont with the spectacularly beautiful editor of the hottest new Paris food website and we had a spectacularly beautiful meal. Exaggerate I spectacularly too much?
Things started out a bit roughly (point Mr. Rubin) - they had no record of my friend's somewhat hard in French to pronounce name in the rezbook, but trusted my oral declaration. I asked for the carte, none appeared, I asked for the wine carte, none appeared, and since I had a hunch that I had a bit of a wait because my "date" was working, I decided to partake some wine and approached the amiable barkeep and asked if he could scare some up. Sure. (point Mr. Simon).
So I had a glass of rose - a Cuvee Magalie - whilst I read the denunciation of still-at-it cancer-survivor Lance, "maybe he did, maybe he didn't," Armstrong by that sour grapes has-been cyclist Greg Lemond (himself the survivor of a Dick Cheney-type buckshot attack) as well as the never-ending and ongoing scandal sagas of France's richest celebrity pair- Johnny "botched-surgery" Smet-Hallyday and Liliane "I'm the one accused of tax-evasion not the ex-hostage" Bettencourt. In any case my friend showed up and we commenced.
I had spied the salad of raw veggies and ham and grilled salmon on cooked veggies on my neighbors' table and both looked terrific although delivered in inverse fashion (seconds-first, firsts-second). (point Mr. Rubin) Neertheless I ordered the salad of mache, tomatoes, baby corn, artichokes, leeks or were they hearts of palm? and ham and it was very very good, nicely dressed (which my friends' salad last month had not been) with ham I wished I'd remembered to ask the provenance of, it was so good. (point Mr Simon)
Because she had just been on a food tour (figured out who she is yet?) she just had the salmon, toasty skin eh? with beautiful vegetables and I had two types of French beef ordered blue with a mache salad. The charolais was indeed blue inside and tasty and good and my gosh, just like Michel Troisgos says - "juicy and flavourful," while the Salers was tougher and more done and golly, just like P. Wells, my co-expert-blogger describes - "firmer, chewier, more densely meaty...[with] a little stronger taste." (two points Mr. Simon)
At this point we were talking business and she suggested we go out on the grass knoll and finish off the left-overs (ha) from her food tour (nut or raisin or both bread, two goats [musta missed those], two Comtes, two Bries and a "stinky" Munster which wasn't stinky to me) with cherries from the Marche d'Aligre (now have you got her pegged?), but it was impossible to catch the waitress' eye (cf David McCord, Cambridge Community College 1921 "Bye and bye God caught his eye") and I wanted a coffee, so I had one, and then we both ordered another and - whoops - hers went all over her little black dress and there was much "oh I'm sorry" but the noisette had already done its damage. Domage. (point Mr. Rubin)
The bill with a bottle of rose was 77 E. The waitress/salle manager/etc., compensated us for my pal's cleaning bill by wiping off not only her dress but the bill of the apero glass of rose and 3 coffees. (point Mr. Simon)
Go? Yes indeed, on a nice Tuesday-Thursday day for lunch when things are staffed up and it's not a madhouse.