Braisenville in the 9th is a place that was on my infamous "list" of new hopefuls for months and which I only went to a few weeks ago when our first choice turned out to be closed at lunch; it has since risen to near the top of my "recs list." Speaking of which lunch-addiction,
Braisenville, like Au Passage under the lately-departed and mourned James Henry and I'm told Chateaubriand when Azpitarte was serving lunch there, pre-Dauphin, is a totally different experience at lunch and dinner; to whit; at lunch it's a 3/3/3 difficult choice "menu," 2 courses for 16 and 3 for 19 E (left) and "tapas" at night, which liberally move from coldcuts to a Black Angus Cote de Boeuf (right).
Colette had the gaspacho with cucumber chunks and croutons, which she, a gaspacho-nut, declared was "very good," and my oldest Anglo-Franco friend/co-biker/habitant and I thought our tempura of merlu with aioli was incredible (she after 50 years here, found there to be too much sauce - how French - but I thought it was like Goldilocks - just right.)
After much too long a wait, our long-putting-up-with-us friend was served and liked her filet mignon of pork on a bed of puree savora and tarragon, excepting for its low temperature; Colette liked her daurade with rough-cut ratatouille, excepting for its over-abundance of oil; and I loved my bavette with chimichurri sauce, excepting for the fact that this great cut of beef needed nothing to bring out its wonderful taste (PS The waitguy, who is proud of his 8 years of English classes, also reads minds - because the ladies heard me say "saignant" and I was thinking "blu" and it came out perfectly cooked).
Our friend had to leave, sad that some folks work, but Colette and I stuck around to have an order of sorbet and fruits and "brownies" which were like no brownies Colette, Mom or Grandma ever made but were/was splendid.
With 1 and 1/2 bottles of a Gaillac and Cotes du Rhone, two superb coffees and terrific bread, our bill was 89 E, thus 59.33 E a couple (they comp'd Colette and my coffees for the under-temperatured dish of our friend, ironically.)