4.9 L'Intention, 3, rue du Roi Dore in the 3rd, 01.42.74.31.22, closed weekends is a place that only Gaudry saw slip under the radar and when challenged to find a place my oldest friend in France could get to quickly to and from her cabinet, it was a natch.
It's in one of those classic Marais buildings with stone walls that are warm and the couple that run it are equally welcoming. Inside there are photos of middle America (aka Oklahoma) and Johnny Cash-type music playing - nice!
The carte is supersimple and choices were easy for us.
We both chose the braised leeks with salad greens and herbs atop and a subtle mustard sauce below which were quite tasty, then diverged to have the chicken (which was overdone & thus dry) with beans and chorizo and French pork with fall vegetables, quite nice; and I finished with a nut financier with mascarpone - again quite nice. However, nothing was ground-breaking/earth-shaking.
With a bottle of nice Bordeaux, no bottled water, OK bread and two coffees our bill was 65 E (which now that I add it up seems 4 E too much, but is not cause for WWIII.)
Go? The road to hell is paved with good intentions (St Bernard of Clairvaux) or as Hemingway amended it - The road to hell is paved with unbought stuffed dogs, whatever that means (at 18 it seemed terribly significant.)