6.9 The Bistrot Paradis, 55, rue de Paradis in the 10th, 01.42.26.59.93, closed Sundays and Mondays (Metro: Poissonnier) somehow escaped my field of vision when it opened in November but my head snapped to attention when Emmanuel Rubin recognized it yesterday; Brazilian chef who passed through the houses of Ducasse et Constant, hummm. I was a few minutes early, despite awful manifs, etc., and calmly awaited my dining partner, also stuck in traffic. Figaro, a glass of white Saumur wine, looked at the spectacularly designed menu (carte), what more does one want?
They have a 23 E three-course "menu" with leeks, mushroom-rolled rabbit and a tartare of exotic fruits that I almost went for, but instead my dining partner and I picked items that appealed to us from the carte. She started with a most decent carpaccio of bass and I had the pigs feet which normally I die for, but this had too much espilette, making it a rough voyage. Then she, after being strong-armed by our terrific waiter (one of three) and I, had the scallops with sweet potatoes (which normally I hate, these were divine) and I had a quail with tiny potato balls that was just to my liking. We wound up sharing a confited pear with doo-dads, squigums and squirtums; quite good.
Our bill, with a bottle of Minivrois, bottle of Chateldon, decent bread and 2 weak espressos, a disgrace for a Brazilian chef, was 126 E. dB level said 86.3 despite the squalling Brit baby across from us.
Go again? You betch'em.