John Talbott's Paris

In France chefs better hit the ground running.

The phrase to “hit the ground running” is used so loosely now that one can forget its derivation; it referred originally to cowboys dodging bullets in the Wild West and only later to what we automatically think of now - Airborne troops landing and preparing to get going fast – shades of Normandy and St Mere Eglise.

On/In the blogosphere there is much discussion about whether it’s fair play/good sport (N.B. Mr. Henry) to review a resto just after it opens, despite the chef’s having been in business for years, sometimes with the same kitchen team and even the same front-room group. Like American theater shows opening in New Haven, some French places have “soft openings” for friends, admirers and hangers-on.

In addition, some reviewers and critics of critics say one should wait until they “work out all the kinks,” “mature” or “get the rhythm under their belts” (block that mixed metaphor folks) before critiquing a place. This makes an interesting assumption; that places get smoother and more consistent as they age. In one case, the opposite happened; Sylvain Sendra opened Itineraires to universal praise (including from me) but within weeks the place got push-back from web-savvy eaters and indeed, meals in this post-opening period were decidedly inconsistent.

But since the big boys (Rubin, Simon, Berger, Toinard, Demorand, etc) have their ears out on sticks and know and utilize that knowledge to go early on, why not poor blogoslobs like me?

And so it was that a genuine food writer and I ate at Claude (ex-Bamboche, l’Orenoc) Colliot’s new place in the 4th on its 2rd day, breaking all the new gastro-ethical guidelines that say you should eat at a place only after the kinks are unkinked out, eat at least 5 times and make sure everyone at the table agrees; but I'm not Sam Sifton, just a poor schmuck who wants to be served what Mr. Average Customer is, not what the New York Times LERP’s (Long Range Reconnaissance Patrols) get.

The menu looks simple: 4 each of starters, mains and desserts but the food is incredibly complex and textured and flavored. The front-room, granted staffed by Madame as well as three experienced folk, one of whom I knew from a previous life, functioned effortlessly. OK, there were only 10 covers max that day, but I suspect that even with all 50 seats full, they’ll do very nicely indeed.

Chef Colliot looked to have one other (sous-)chef and a plonguer in the cuisine and they too seemed to function like a well-oiled machine.

Now, by the time you read this, all the big print boys will have been there and we’ll see what they say; but mind you, they’ll have been within 10 days of its opening and they regard this as fair play/good sport. And with a talent like Claude Colliot, it’s a pleasure to see a chef hit the ground running, and seemingly enjoying it greatly, as did his whole staff.

We’re talking about:

The Restaurant Claude Colliot
40 Rue des Blancs Manteaux in the 4th (Metro: Rambuteau I guess)
T: 01. Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol 42.71.55.45
Closed Sundays and Mondays
Menu 34 E.

 

My life as a wine contrarian and the Salon des Vignerons Independents 2009.

A lively friend of mine from another journalistic life calls herself a contrarian or libertarian not a Republican or conservative, despite her ties to the most illustrious conservative operation in America (outside of Fox News) there is. As I was thinking about my life and wine it occurred to me I should probably define myself this way as well.

I’ve previously published essays on my ambivalent relationship with wine, such as “Holding down wine costs,” “Wine snobbery,” “Wine, whining and me: liked or worshipped, war stories and facts” and “Ordering the cheapest wine on the menu” that have as a common theme my skepticism that most people, including the experts, know what they’re talking about. (You can Google or Search for them by title if so desired).

Now, wouldn’tcha know, that most conservative of all American newspapers, at least on its Editorial and Op-Ed pages, the Wall Street Journal, comes out with an article entitled “A Hint of Hype, A Taste of Illusion: They pour, sip and, with passion and snobbery, glorify or doom wines. But studies say the wine-rating system is badly flawed. How the experts fare against a coin toss” and talk about reinforcing my stereotypes, its author, Leonard Mlodinow, does a fine job.

The title and subtitle give away the plot, denouement and ending and the fact that the author is a Professor of “Randomness” at Caltech tells you its spin as well. I love his finding out that some Languedoc in 1973 was marked “Salable as Beaujolais to Americans.” This being the time of Beaujolais Nouveau, I should give a brief nod to the wine we love to hate, saving longer diatribes for another day.

Because I want to move back to Professor Mlodinow’s article. He notes that another wine-obsessed Prof, from Humboldt, one Robert Hodgson, and others have found that:

- despite tasters’ claims of spotting 6 or 8 scents or flavors, homo sapiens cannot “identify more than three or four”
- raters give widely different descriptors to the same wine,
- experts agree on characteristics (tannins, sweetness, fruitiness) 25% of the time,
- color additives change raters’ opinions of what they’re drinking,
- the same expert drinking samples from the same bottle judged each sip differently,
- medals are “spread around at random,”
- flips of the coin are just as accurate, and
- while most wine experts dispute these findings as “hogwash,” vintners, editors and even Robert Parker, are not surprised.

 

So, back to the Salon des Vignerons Independents at the Porte de Versailles last weekend. I intended to go and as I always do, visit my favorite vintners Catherine and Pierre Breton as well as Rolet Pere et Fils, then drift around, regretting that I didn’t eat the great looking paella or cassoulet.

 

But, not wanting to schlep wine home (my car schlepped itself home years ago) or schmooze with the vintners or any stranger I might meet, I repaired instead to the Metro, and once again identified myself as a wine contrarian. No matter who said it, I fell into the “road to hell is paved with good intentions” crowd very easily.

Years ago, J. Russell Lynes, a word-ly writer and editor at Harpers (and coiner of the highbrow, middlebrow, lowbrow definitions) also teased out snobbism to its ultimate antipode – the anti-snob snob, a zone I’ll happily admit inhabiting.

Where we ate before my intended trip:
Thoumieux
79, rue St Dominique in the 7th, (Metro: Invalides)
T; 01.47.05.49.75
Open 7/7
Weekday lunch costs 20 € lunch, a la carte costing 40-50 €

"Change your reservation?" "Of course, Sir, no problem."

"Change your reservation?" "Of course, Sir, no problem."

Where did this interchange occur? In New York, in Berlin or in Paris?

It doesn’t happen a lot, but often enough, that I have to telephone to change a reservation from two to three persons, from 8 o’clock to 9, from dinner to lunch, etc. And the answer is always the same here – “No problem, Monsieur, thank you for letting us know.”

Ah, I know, I’m revealing my deep-seated prejudices. But think back for a minute to poor Jack Nicholson in “Five Easy Pieces” trying to order a simple slice of toast:

“I'd like a plain omelet and a chicken salad sandwich on wheat toast. No mayonnaise, no butter, no lettuce, and a cup of coffee. A number two. A chicken sal san. Hold the butter, the lettuce and the mayonnaise. Yeah, now all you have to do is hold the chicken, bring me the toast..."

But I often think I’m Jack the unflappable in the States, when I pleadingly try to change a reservation from two to three persons, from 7:30 to 8 o’clock. But I have no such luck.
What on earth is the difference?

The week this was written, because of my and several friends changing schedules, I had to change one reservation three times and another two times and what was the answer each time - “No problem, Monsieur, thank you for letting us know.” This from places I’d never been.

Or, when I first moved here and ran into a problem that would cause me to be late, I’d call and finally (after the third time) really believed them when they said: “M. Talbot, the table is yours, come when you can.”

Now you Americans from NY and LA will immediately leap to the defense of the restaurateurs who must fill every seat, every meal, and get you in and out on time. In the US they want you to wait in the street or sit at the bar and drink (their inflatedly priced cocktails) because “we cannot seat you until your entire party is here.” “Says who?” On what Moses tablet is it written?

Whereas here, ah, they don’t have any economic pressure, they’re in a Socialist (read Commie) state and they have no idea of what it is to be an entrepreneur, as our last President said.

No, I don’t think so.

I really think it’s the difference between a gastronomic/politeness heritage and a can do/cowboy/Ayn Rand one. Those who say “the customer is always right” only exists in the US ought to go to an American bank sometimes.

My favorite that day certainly was:
Jardin d'Ampere (Hotel Ampere)
102, ave de Villiers in the 17th, (Metro: Wagram)
T: 01.44.29.16.54
Closed Sundays at dinner
Costing 40-80 a la carte but with lunch formula/menus at 24 and 28 €.

What’s this Rating Game all about? Chapter 2.

A few weeks ago, Monday October 5th to be exact, the Wall Street Journal published an intriguing article available here or here by Geoffrey A. Fowler and Joseph De Avila with an even more intriguing title “On the Internet, everyone’s a critic but not everyone is critical.

In essence, it turns out that despite the reputation the internet has for nastiness, most critiques are bland or mildly positive and few are hard-hitting. The Journal article says the average review is a 4.3 stars/5. And, more amazing, website overseers tend to take down negative reviews or comments, even if civil and politely stated.

The article states that in the U.K., ratings are even higher (a 4.4/5) which is counter to my experience reading the Brit print press where everything from restaurants to obituaries can be tough and hard-hitting. The Journal also posits that places like Amazon delete negative reviews so they can sell more products. And I’ve heard from others that they only post positive reviews for a variety of reasons; so as not to appear tough, so as to reward a comp’d meal, so their readers are encouraged to read books or eat out even though said book or meal may be bad.

Now I truly have a problem with these approaches. What is the poor average slob from Upper Purdesh supposed to think when he or she eats at a place in London or Paris that had only rave reviews, when the meal is horrid?

Another thing that annoys me is the lack of use of the full scale. As I noted in my “Rating Game 1” essay, giving everything 2/4 or 3/5 tells the reader zip; he or she has to go to them to find out which is a good 2/4 and which a bad. Robert Parker is probably the most honest and best utilizer of the full scale although he really only uses 50-100/100, just as Gault-Millau only used 10-20/20.

In the 25 years that I was a periodical editor, I would take it upon myself to feedback the scores reviewers gave compared with their peers and it would be abundantly clear that X only gave 3/10’s and Y 8/10’s etc; few used the whole range. But when they saw how they compared to others they tended to be more expansive.

One of the criticisms of the Gault-Millau was that restaurants began to hit the ceiling of 19-20/20 and there was little to differentiate Roellinger say from Bras. Then they moved the ceiling from 20 to icon and let guys like Bocuse and Senderens pierce it.

So how do I wind this essay up? With a plea for critics to honestly score what they’re rating, to use the full scale and to demote places if they fail the test, remember Loiseau didn’t suicide because of a feared-demotion but a undertreated biological depression. As a good critic/friend of mine insists “A lot of these guys need a kick in the shins.”

Where this all started was at the:
Fabrique 4
17, rue Brochant in the 17th, (Metro: Brochant)
T: 01.58.59.06.47
Open 7/7
Lunch menu at 20, a la carte 40-60 €.

Eating where you always did/do: I don’t get it.

I started thinking about this a few decades ago when Colette and I ate out with a colleague/friend who invited us to the Balzar, well before the Adam Gopnik brouhaha, and after we’d had 80% of the meal, I asked him “So, how did you come to pick this place?” “Oh, he said, I came when I was a student and just never stopped.

I thought that a bit weird, the places I ate at in school would never occur to me as possibilities today. And then another couple invited us out, this time to Lipp, and again, being polite we went but after a mediocre (at best) meal asked why: “Oh we thought you’d like a real Parisian place and besides we’ve been coming for years.” Real Parisian?, it was full of American Sartre-wannabies even then.

Over the years living here I’ve discovered this is as normal as ordering the same table wine from the same vintner year after year or driving the same route home – why change?

After about four years of going to all their old haunts, though, with one slight digression to a place (Le Totem in the Musee de l’Homme) recommended by a colleague’s 20 year old branché secretary where none of could hear due to the deafening music, they began to go where I suggested. To this day when one of them introduces me to speak before a Parisian audience, he says here’s John, who knows more about Parisian restaurants than I do.

But it really hit me the day this was written when I ate at the relatively new (since March) Cartouche Café near Bercy/etc. Leave out the chains/etc at the Cour St Emilion, if you walk from the Bercy metro to the Cour St Emilion metro, you pass a good dozen and a half restaurants that don’t look bad but they certainly have no reputation or outside recognition and they’re filled with workers from the area.

But the Cartouche Café, sister of the Repaire de…., sitting in the same corridor, had essentially the same prices as all the other places, had an innovative menu, great wines, a nice setting but was relatively empty. I just don’t get it.

My favorite that day certainly was:
Cartouche Café
4, rue de Bercy, 12th (Metro: Cour St Emilion)
T: 01.40.19.09.95
Closed Saturday noon and Sundays
A la carte about 30 €

What’s this Rating Game all about?

When I started writing up restos in Paris it was strictly for my friends, indeed, most of them I cribbed off of the guy (Paga) who was always weeks and months ahead of me in trying places.

Because he was technologically challenged, it fell to me to start publishing them as gastronomic samizdats, no where near as dangerous as Solzhenitsyn’s, indeed rather prosaic, but privately and secretly distributed nonetheless. 

Then a guy named Robert Buxbaum (Bux), a gruff, tough but real softie inside, guy, asked me to contribute reviews/reports to a website then known as eGullet (it’s now the highfalutin sounding eGullet Society of Culinary Arts and Letters). And I would cluster 10 or 12 such reports of my experiences into a single report from Paris every month. 

Pretty soon, some wise guy (actually Paga’s son) dared me to start rating them as did the Michelin, Gault-Millau and A Nous Paris rather than merely describing them. Several loyal readers cautioned me against this but I blundered on. If one thinks about it:
The Michelin’s ratings are universally understood (if not agreed with), albeit, way out of date.
The Gault-Millau’s were originally iconoclastic, breaking new ground in defining nouvelle cuisine but losing the traditional greatness of French cooking in their promotion of newness. But last week they announced they were abandoning the 10-20/20 rating scale after 40 years.
The Pudlo’s in the beginning tended to be quirky (which was fun) but later got stodgy.
Lebey had so many people working for his pubs one couldn’t/cannot tell where the bar was/is set but the coordinates tend to be quite reliable.
Zagat’s is useful as a popularity contest with good telephone numbers.
And Zurban, during its brief life, never rated, only described, although it did it very well.
Finally, A Nous Paris as well as Figaroscope, while universally read and respected, do not use the full scale often enough; thus a 2/4 from Rubin or 3/5 from Berger/Toinard means what exactly, compared to the other 10 in that (2/4, 3/5) range each month? 

So let’s talk about me.

I began to try to use the full scale 0-10, sometimes even devilishly going to minus 00.00 ratings if some place was really intolerable. But here’s the problem. How do you compare apples and oranges, for example, how do you rate:
Le Bristol against
Le Bistral against
Le Regalade against
Ze Kitchen against
L’Ami Louis against
L’Astrance against
L’Arpege against
Repaire de Cartouche against
Vin Vole against
Passage 53 against
La Table d’Eugene against
Guilo-Guilo against
Enichi against
Frenchie against
Merci against
Well, where do I stop? 

Remember in the old trusty New York Magazine when they rated the 10 best pastrami places or 10 best pizza places – that was cool. They were comparing apples to apples, rightly or wrongly.

So when someone asks on Chowhound, for example, as they do almost every hour, “I’ve got 1, 2 or 5 days in Paris - Where do I eat?” the answer is not easy – for what? Traditional food, fusion food, bistro-ey food, comfort food, innovative food, bar food, or just plain solid good food? 

So, maybe I should abandon a scale that compares wine bars to palace hotel restaurants and bistrots to brasseries but I’m unwilling to do what Gault-Millau did in the ‘90’s adding all those goofy symbols, trying to parse out different types of places as does Le Fooding to this day (it’s no surprise that a few of their contributors worked for both).

Where this all started was at the:
Fabrique 4
17, rue Brochant in the 17th, (Metro: Brochant)
T: 01.58.59.06.47
Open 7/7
Lunch menu at 20, a la carte 40-60 €.

The Spring/Table d’Eugene/Frenchie Problem.

Maybe two years ago, Le Figaro’s crack gastronomy staff made phone calls to see how far out about 10 well-known restaurants were booked. And to their surprise it was not l’Astrance or Le Cinq but Spring into which it was impossible to get.

I guess I was not surprised because I had been going pretty much from its opening and with 16 covers, I knew success would result in long waits. Did that stop me from raving about it? No.

Indeed my charming ex-co-host on eGullet took me to task in her most diplomatic way and suggested I was going a bit far in my adulation.

Sometime later a nice little place (the Table d’Eugene) opened in my neighborhood (which sorely lacked a fine restaurant or bistro) and the RFC and I went and had a spectacular lunch, which both of us raved about and I been revisiting it every other month or so, having no problem booking, until last month when they said “Sorry, we’re full.” “Full, this is one of the guys who raved about you.” “Sorry sir, that’s the way it is.”

Earlier this week, I was talking to my oldest American friend living in France, ah maybe better to say the American who has been living the longest in France that I know. She said something like “You’ve been taking me to some pretty crummy places lately, pick a good one this time, and you know, my son tried to get into the Table d’Eugene and couldn’t; it’s booked up way in advance.”

So there goes another gem down the road to the impossible.

Finally, there’s Frenchie, again a small, unprepossessing place run by two sweet guys where I was used to calling up the morning I wished to go and reserving. “Unh Unh, no longer,” I was told by yet another friend, “it’s now impossible to get into.”

Now this prompts several thoughts. First, do we in the blogosphere, especially the Anglo-Saxon part of it, hype places up too much and they become so popular it’s impossible for we pioneers to get a table? Maybe, but I think the word will eventually get out even if we hold certain places “in pectore” like the Pope.

That may have worked in Craig Claiborne’s day when he was the only show on earth (and he did indeed have some great places he never revealed publicly) but it wouldn’t hold water today with the Internet. We had a lively discussion on eGullet a few years ago about keeping some places, especially their local ones, secret, but people are basically proud of digging up new finds, and it’s a little bit like stealing a Vermeer, you want to show it to your friends, not bury it in a vault.

And then there’s the attitude of at least two of my best food pals: if Spring or the Table d’Eugene or Frenchie become impossible to get into, there will be the new Spring or the Table d’Eugene or Frenchie soon, given that five places a week open up in Paris. Remember those glorious past meals and move on. To say – KGB – whoops I hear it’s now fully booked.

Finally, the economics of the industry requires that chefs or owners or the bank-loaners move towards higher prices. In the pseudonymous Olivier Morteau’s “Food Business” he says that when he researched the book, now a decade ago, chefs told him it took something like 60 or 70 Euros to put a meal on the table and so anything less than that was a loss. It is no wonder, then, that guys like Thierry Burlot keep bumping their prices up, that when Eric Frechon moved into a Palace hotel from the darkest 19th his prices tripled and only a few souls like the chefs at Le Clocher Periere try to hold their prices down, despite their success, to hold onto their regular customers.

If I visited Paris once a year or every two years, I would do my research and make my reservations six months ahead of time, too, but for me the fun is calling up in the morning and going that day, even after a dazzling review by someone in the print or cyber business.

So, the places I still would try to get into today:

Spring (now in hibernation)

Frenchie
5, rue du Nil, 2nd, (Metro: Sentier)
T:01 40 39 96 19
Closed Sundays, Mondays and Tuesday lunch
Menus: lunch 16 for 2 dishes and 19 € for three - dinner 27 or 33 €.

La Table d'Eugène
18, rue Eugène Sue, 18th (Metro: Jules Joffrin, Chateau Rouge)
T: 01 42 55 61 64
Closed Sundays and Mondays
Lunch menu 10.5-12.5, dinner menu 21-27, a la carte 25-30 €.

Le Clocher Pereire
42, bvd Pereire 17th, (Metro: Pereire )
T: 01.44.40.04.15
Closed Saturdays and Sundays
Lunch menu 17, dinner 29 and 38, a la carte 35-50 €.

Disclosure: Unless otherwise stated, all meals mentioned in this essay were fully paid for by the author.

Why do I like Ledeuil and Pacquin over Aizpitarte and Barbot?

Must be crazy eh?  The darlings of the Anglo-Saxon web and buzz are chefs like Inaki Aizpitarte (La Famille→Transversal→Chateaubriand) and Pascal Barbot (School of Hard Knocks (eg self-taught)→Arpege→Astrace) rather than William Ledeuil (House of Savoy→Les Bouquinistes→Ze→KGB) or Rodolphe Paquin (House of Constant→Repaire de Cartouche→Cartouche Café) but I, as usual, am swimming against the flow.

Let’s look at their cooking; Aizpitarte is forever pushing the envelope (for instance, one night at La Famille he sent me up a shrimp burned at the tail and raw at the head), Barbot is inventive and fresh; whereas Ledeuil is constantly pushing the envelope (sending me out, for instance, at Ze, his as yet unadvertised chocolate cappuccino dessert) and Paquin is clever and fresh. 

Wait a minute, they sound the same.

Well, they’re not.

Aizpitarte tires me with his pushing, which doesn’t always work, whereas Ledeuil entertains and refreshes my palate; Barbot tries too hard (often falling on his face), whereas Paquin seems to want to do a good steady job every time (it’s no wonder he’s a marathoner not a sprinter).  Sure Paquin puts forth gutsy food whereas Ledeuil’s has more finesse; Paquin is rooted in French tradition and Ledeuil is influenced by Asian flavors, but I walk out of each’s places feeling I’ve had a treat not a treatment, as Aizpitarte and Barbot make me feel.

Maybe the big tent of French cooking is big enough for all four and indeed lots of others and maybe chacun a son gout, but for me the choice is clear.

Their newest are:

Cartouche Café

4, rue de Bercy, 12th (Metro: Cour St Emilion)

T: 01.40.19.09.95

Closed Saturday noon and Sundays

A la carte about 30 €.

 

Kitchen Galerie bis

25, rue des Grands Augustins, 6th (Metro: Saint Michel)

T: 01 46 33 00 85

Closed Sundays.

Menu at lunch: 34, a la carte 60-80 €.

The Perfect French Restaurant: Au Petit Marguery.

Last week I wrote about the perfect bistro and I should specify that since my readership is largely American or at least Anglo-Saxon, I’m not talking about perfect places in the minds of the French, Japanese or Latin Americans – I’m unable to know their ideals.

But when it comes to the perfect place I think I know what I and my age cohort of Anglos at least thought and think is what they want and need.

Again, when I first came over after WWII, things were still pretty grim and especially along the Normandy coast the evidence of the war’s end was still incomplete; even mid-country produce had not reached the desired quality and quantity (I was told by my French “family” who were in the food and wine business) and restaurants stretched to be elegant.

My perfect restaurants of the era then were throwbacks to golden times, pre-war and my two memorable meals then were at Maxim’s and Le Tour d’Argent, and I certainly thought then that they were “perfect:” perfect in their décor, napery, service and management if not the food.

In the 1960’s, perhaps because of Gourmet and the Red Michelin we tended to head out of town to the countryside, with Lyon and surround being the ultimate food-lovers’ destination.  Point and his gang - Bocuse, the Troisgros’ and Chapel - were the stars that beckoned those around me and I would name La Mere Blanc in Vonnas as the perfect resto of that time.

In the 1970’s, of course, we and I suspect many, headed back to Paris for the full flowering of the revolution Gault and Millau were championing and Senderens’ Archistrate and Guerard’s Pot au Feu in Asnieres along with Verger’s (with Loiseau and Savoy) Barriere de Clichy were the lodestars.  My memory though, features the Pot Au Feu as the perfect place perhaps because of the effort it took to get a reservation and get there.

The 1980’s was the decade of Passard and the empire-builders – Ducasse, Savoy and Robuchon and I suppose if I had to pick the perfect restaurant it would have been Arpege just before “le lifting,” his third star and the turn away from meat to veggies.  In those days it was a fine salle and an even better spread.

The 1990’s were years in which I thought Gagnaire was the cat’s meow; those were the days when his prices were sensible (in the English sense) and we could finish five-six courses plus all the extra stuff thrown at us in-between.  They were also the years in which I began to get restless at going back to the same old places, no matter how good as they filled with rich Americans and bled reasonable French customers.  So now my perfect restaurants were turning out to be the ones not yet in Gourmet and the French guidebooks and we’d go to one, time out of mind (example: Eric Frechon’s restaurant of many names in the 19^th) until either the chef moved downtown or the prices climbed out of sight for the same chow.

But now we’re past the millennium and should be seeing a whole new wave of inspiration, shouldn’t we?  I mean with Generation “C”, Omnivore, “Le Fooding” and the pressure from Catalonia, not to speak of Asian herbs and spices, innovative guys like William Ledeuil are moving full-speed ahead – the week I wrote this, Colette and I ate twice at KGB and once at Ze, so one would think my perfect Parisian Restaurant of the moment would be chef’d by one of the Ledeuil/Marx/Choukroun/Azpitarte/Zuddas/Constant and sons bunch – but no – maybe nostalgia has me by the throat – but I think the perfect restaurant for Americans now requires a trip back to the future – at Le Petit Marguery, where the décor and napery, etc., maybe classic, the ownership bordering on chain-like (Pascal Mousset et al after all run Apollo, le Restaurant du Sénat, la Maree and the restos in the Invalides Metro/Bus Station and Luxembourg Museum,) but the food is definitely “what we want.”

So I give you the Perfect Restaurant for Americans today:

Au Petit Marguery
9, Blvd de Port Royal, 13th (Metro: Gobelins)
T: 01.43.31.58.59
Closed Sundays and Mondays
Lunch menus at 23 (2 courses), 26 (3) and dinner for 30 (2) and 35 (3) €.

The Perfect French Bistro: the Cartouche Café.

Stop the presses and your searches, the quest is over, the perfect French bistrot est arrivé along with the new choucroute.

You know the question, it’s on all the websites, what’s the perfect French Bistrot (usually in Paris)?  It generates dozens of responses from dozens of experts and a few real authorities (Alexander Lobrano and John Whiting foremost among them).  And few people agree.

Oddly enough, some people aren’t even looking for a bistrot but a brasserie, down to the beer pumps, velvet cushions and light fixtures, but that’s off the point.

When I first set foot in France in the 1950’s, France, still reeling from the war and Nazi occupation, was in no mood for haute cuisine and a good bistrot was about all one saw and/or hoped for.  They were often dingy, smoke-filled and offered pretty much the same array of steak-frites, sliced tomatoes (thankfully served only in summer in those days) and classic desserts and regional cheeses.

My image of the “perfect” example of this retro, post-war warhorse was l’Ami Louis, which while even then overrun with Americans, dished up some pretty nice rotisseried chicken, potato galettes and classic desserts and cheeses at reasonable prices.  Even the waiters were classics and Papa, finally reduced to sitting on a chair by the kitchen, was clearly the boss.

In the 1960’s, I and they were still pretty much still stuck on Nostalgia Lane, and my “perfect” place was probably then Aux Lyonnais whose salad friseé and paté and meats represented the classic gutsy stuff we or at least I craved.  Here too the waiters were classic as was the décor.

By the 1970’s my idea of a perfect bistro was the Bistro d’Hubert where one could get a most decent duck, boudin noir and Brebis.  For me it was the taste and feel that bistros should convey, but when I go by every few weeks I sense a total changement, despite the fact that a member of the family still runs it.

In the 1980’s Michel Rostang started the Bistros d’a Coté  movement and as far as I’m concerned, he Savoy, Cagna and Robuchon redefined what a bistro was.  No more three course “menus” but back to chalk-boards with ample firsts, mains, cheese and desserts and affordable wines.  All were gutsy and there was no palace hotel frou-frou here.  But there were also independents who got back to terroir and taste – like Au Petit Marguery (the one on the Left Bank) and Le Terroir itself.

The 1990’s, by me, saw an even bigger return to the good old days with the reflourishing of very old places like Le Quincy and Biche Au Bois, run by very young guys (Bobosse is surely my kid’s age) with classics like cotes of beef and pigeon and pheasant and biche itself.   Real pate and real cheese and real wine plus ample digestifs also were back “in.”

The pre and post millennium years brought the perfect bistrots of the culinary sons of Christian Constant: Breton, Faucher, Camdeborde, Paquin, Echebest and lest we forget, Eric Frechon, before he became Eric Frechon, who created the perfect bistros of the era: Chez Michel, Le Regalade, L’Os a Moelle, Le Repaire de Cartouche, Le Troquet and Le Restaurant.  Ironically, Constant with his Café, has turned from the Crillon and even Le Violin style back to a perfect bistro.

But I have a new candidate for the position, Rodolphe Paquin’s second place, not a coté but far away from the mothership, which implies that he has a lot of confidence in both the chef and front man.  So why is this the perfect bistro (until I change my mind)?  Just look at the menu

 
Terrines, gizzard salad, sausage, ris d’agneau, bavette/frites, pintade, prunes, figs and an apple gratin.  And good affordable wine.

What’s more it meets Olivier Morteau’s (Pseud.) formula for the ideal spot for a resto in Paris - "a culinary desert, a bold chef and easy prices."

So there you go, my friends (and even enemies, you know who you are), my perfect bistro as of October 2009.

Cartouche Café
4, rue de Bercy, 12th (Metro: Cour St Emilion)
T: 01.40.19.09.95
Closed Saturday noon and Sundays
A la carte about 30 €