Let me start by saying this is not where I had intended to eat with my great food-worthy friends. I’d made a reservation by phone for a Monday lunch at Desnoyez's new place in the Marche St Germain. But when I arrived It was closed. It’s starting to rain heavily. What’d’ya do? You look over where Alan Geean’s place used to be - gone. The Eastern European soup kitchen next door - I don't think do. So you sit on a concrete post and Google, Mark Zuckerberg is suddenly your best friend. Well, there’s Sathees, enter, it's soups and salads, go next door to Avant Comptoir du Marche, all stools and small plates and by now my back is killing me. Let’s see - across the street where Letourbe used to be, I think. Hummm...
6.3 Seraphin, 5, rue Mabillon in the 6th, open 7/7, 01.56.24.41.00 (Metro: Mabillon) is clearly a trap for tourists seeking refuge from the tempete outside. But hark, some genuine French office workers with ties arrive, this could be real food. Why have I never heard of it? (Lets ignore the bagels and burger specials.)
My friends show up and the TV star orders a cocotte of cod with curry and very fresh vegetables, not Metro, which she thinks is great and the entrecôte and fries are deemed terrific by my co-professor. Reluctantly I must agree. Finding good beef is easy, finding good fries is highly unusual. We end up sharing an apple tart.
Our bill, with a bottle and glass of their “wine of the moment” (that shows how low my expectations of this place were) and two coffees, was 102€ or 68€ a couple, which they insisted they pick up (although it was my screw up with the reservation.) Most generous. dB's 72.8
Go? “You can’t have a bad meal in Paris,” “Drop by anywhere”, “I found the most interesting place that's not in the guidebooks or your blog.” Bullshit, I’ve never believed any of these. But whatever it was, reptilian memory, feng shui, sheer dumb luck - for stumbling/tumbling on a place, we did well.