John Talbott's Paris

A la Biche au Bois in the 12th: Many happy returns.

A la Biche au Bois is a place Colette and I loved in the 1990's, not the least for its 120 FF and then 128 FF four-course game menu in the fall and then it was sold and some of its soul semed gone.

Thus when one of our favorite food writers suggested we return today we were delighted but apprehensive: would it be great or a bit off?

We arrived early enough to scope the outside 20 € and inside printed 25.90 € one and note that three game dishes were on tap today: wild duck, biche stew and their traditional slab of biche.

Our pal started with eggs in sauce that he devoured with pleasure while I thought my terrine of sanglier on a tartly dressed salad was great.

Then Colette had the weakest plate of the day, salmon, while our friend had coq au vin (pleading game-avoidance at his editors' request that was about as good as I've had since Chez Rene's went south, and I reveled in the thickly sliced almost raw biche (cooked to my liking despite no instructions) with a rich sauce and a chestnut puree and a ton of (so so) frites.

The cheese selection was quite ample and my camembert, brie and Pt l'Eveque were very good.

Desserts consisted of two classics, both good; a floating island and creme caramel.

With a bottle and a half of Santenay, three coffees and an Armagnac (offered at the end by our host, as had been the custon 20 years ago), our bill was 119.20 €.

PS For those familiar with the resto, the photo above does not feature it but some game on my street.

Go?  During game season, you can't do better for price quality.

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 €

 

The Cartouche Cafe: Could it be the bistro of the year?

The Cartouche Cafe, coordinates in the 12th given August 31st, will never become a favorite of most of my American readers because they'll take one look at the map and figure it's halfway to Nancy.  But that would be dreadfully wrong; because on the slick, sleek #14 line, it's only minutes from St Lazare, the Madeleine and Pyramide.

I liked it at the rentree, I loved it today. 

Colette and I went and the ardoise was pretty much turned over from that only 3 weeks ago except that on weekdays now, 2 courses at lunch are now 14 and three 17 €, making that the bargain of the year.

I had said menu, choosing a gizzard salad first; it had soft, tasty gesiers atop crisp lettuce leaves with croutons soaked in the juices (the alternative was hummus).

Then I had the bavette with frites (that was a substitution for the rascasse that had run out) that was cooked to my perfection (almost raw) and the frites by French standards weren't half bad while Colette had the pintade with rissole potatoes, she declared the pintade superior.

For dessert I had poached prunes (sounds boring, eh?; unuhh) and Colette an apple gratin.

With a bottle of wine (Colette thought thin and rough), 2 coffees and pretty darn good bread, the bill was 53 €.

Could this be the Perfect Bistro American websiteers keep searching for?

The New Hot Quarters: the 12th: an archival* essay with an update.

The twelfth arrondissement is one of those areas referred to in the Wall Street Journal article as one of the "hot new quarters," not that it wasn't always an interesting area. But it has certainly undergone a renaissance recently.

What I recall from my early visits to Paris was the impressive "Places," really circles, of the Bastille and Nation as well as the expanse of the Bois de Vincennes, just adjacent to the 12th. Back then, the entrepots of Bercy were kind of scary looking relics of a long-lost time; now, while just a few survived, it's a great place to stroll, have a glass of wine or go to a film; but sadly none of the restos and resto chains comes close to being a destination.

Again, I recall the 12th early on as the place you went to get the train south from the Gare de Lyon and Le Train Bleu used to be not only a spectacular venue but serve great food. Nowadays, I'd recommend going across the street to an almost equally old place - Entre Les Vignes - that has recently been resuscitated but luckily its old panache and great classic cuisine have been preserved.

There are a couple of strolls I am partial to. The planted elevated promenade along the Viaduct on Avenue Daumesnil, where Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke strolled in "Before Sunset," is neat and the walk back on the along the street by all the artisanal shops equally interesting. If you saw the movie, there's the implication that the Viaduct walk leads into a below the surface ex-train track path, but in fact you've got to do some searching and map-reading to see/find the transition; but it's well worth it. You'll be almost alone and despite Paris's existence 20 feet over your head, you'll be almost in another world.

As for museums, there's not much. For a while, when the wonderful old American Center and Library moved from the 7th to Bercy into a stunning Frank Gehry building, I thought things were picking up. But they had a tendency to feature what I call (probably incorrectly, stereotypically and unpolitically correct) Whitney Biennial/LA art, e.g., strips of felt on the wall and piles of slate on the floor. Well, they went bankrupt, despite my most generous contribution, and now it's the reborn Maison du Cinema/Cinemateque, a sort of homage to Henri Langlois, bless him. I've only been once to an exhibition there but it's a pretty good use of the space.

OK, but to the food. One of the first really hot new places in the 12th was Au Trou Gascon where Alain Detournier, of Carré des Feuillants fame, first brought his brand of South-western cooking years ago. If memory serves me right, it was another South-western place l'Oulette that attracted our attention and custom next. And, ironically, one of the newest additions to the 12th is La Pibale - Club 308 that is so far Southwest it bumps into Basque cuisine.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, because in the century between the Train Bleu and La Pibale, several interesting and classic places established themselves in the 12th, notably A la Biche Au Bois, that had a fantastic 120 franc menu with game on it in season, Le Quincy, that had a cote de boeuf, the patron, Bobosse himself, served, that was to die for and l'Ebauchoir, that features a rice pudding my wife Colette to this day insists I schlep back from the darkest 12th once a year.

There were also a couple of places - Le Square Trousseau and le Duc de Richelieu I had brief flings with, as well as Les Grandes Marches (under the unused steps of the Opera Bastille) that is good for a Flo-type bite to eat before the opera.

And just a few months ago, a Swedish guy from Uzes (Peter Nilsson) revived La Gazzetta, doing largely Italianate dishes which the local critics love with two exceptions.

As usual here are my favorities :

l’Ebauchoir

43-45 rue de Citeaux, 12^th (Metro: Faidherbe Chaligny)

T: 01.43.42.49.31

Closed Sunday, Monday lunch

Menu at lunch 13.50 and 23 €, a la carte 35 €.

 

Entre Les Vignes

27 ter, bd Diderot, 12^th (Metro:Gare de Lyon)

T:01.43.43.62.84

Closed Weekends

Menu 19 €, a la carte 30 €.

 

La Pibale/Club 308

308, rue de Charenton (Metro: Charenton)

T: 01.44.75.01.55

Closed Saturday noon and Sunday and Monday nights

Menus 22 (Lunch), 30 and 40 €, a la carte 45 €.

 

Les Grandes Marches

6, pl de la Bastille (Metro: Bastille)

T: 01.43.42.90.32

Open everyday

Menus: 24.50 (lunch), 34.50 €, a la carte 50-60 €.

 

*Originally published in December 2006

 2009 Update:

Well, despite my devotion to Colette's devotion to rice pudding at l'Ebauchoir, we haven't been in years, ditto for La Pibale/Club 308 and someone told me Les Grandes Marches was closed, or did I see signs of renovation last time I was at the Opera. However, I had another nice, not spectacular, meal at Entre Les Vignes en route to the Gare de Lyon en route to Geneva. However there are two wonderful additions to the nabe: the Cartouche Café and Shan Gout, both of which are well worth the journey, as schleps to Le 51 and Le Chalet des Iles Daumesnil are most decidedly not.

Therefore, my favorites in the 12th right now are:

Shan Gout

22, rue Hector Malo, 12^th (Metro: Gare de Lyon)

T: 01.43.40.62.14

Closed Mondays

A la carte about 30 €

 

Cartouche Café

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

T: 01.40.19.09.95

Closed Saturday noon and Sundays

A la carte about 30 €

The Cartouche Cafe in the 12th: Why are folks flocking here?

 

6.7 Café Cartouche, 4, rue de Bercy in the 12th, 01.40.19.09.95, closed Saturday noon and Sundays, a la carte about 30 €, is another new offshoot, this of Rodolphe Paquin's Repaire de Cartouche, that super place up near the Winter Circus.

I've been meaning to come since it opened in March but the lack of enthusiastic reviews and opportunities retarded my chance til today - silly boy.  It's great.

I'll presume you've been to the Repaire so you know the style - terrines, gutsy meats and delicate fish, no artifice, no bullshit, just solid cooking.

I started with a fricasee of girolles, I mean how can one not?  They were delicious; tasty, nicely offset with a tart (I guess vinegar based) peppery sauce that I scooped up every morsel with, using his good bread.

Then I had another dish obvious for me: ris d'agneau with mushrooms of Paris and cocos, again in a wonderful dark rich sauce quite sopable,

I ended with roasted figs with cream, oh my.

(Additional notes: they served folks outside a bottle of rose wine in a cool plastic bag; they have a daily special (today sausage) with 50 cl of wine for 15 E and a two course menu for 19 E.)

My bill with a half-liter carafe and no coffee or bottled water was 43 Euros.

Go?  This place reminds me of Biche au Bois under the ancien regime, so definately.  I'll be interested to see whhat they do with game.

Le 51 in the 12th: Thighs, eyes and breasts.

 

0.0 Le 51, 51, rue de Bercy in the 12th, 01.58.51.10.91 (in the Cinematheque francaise aka the failed American Center/Library built by Frank Gehry), a la carte 35-60 E depending on how much tolerance you have for bad food, badly prepared and badly served. I went because (ah, tell the truth John, I went because at the end of August there are no alternatives of new places I haven't yet tried that are open, OK, there you have it).

Desperation made me do it. But also Colette Monsat and Sylvain Verut of Figaroscope  listed it fourth among their 21 recommendations for August.

It is described by all the big boys and girls as a sort of snack/salad plus roast chicken place that is an ideal place to pause between film showings. And it's largely situated between the building and the lovely park, full of children and runners and sunners and on a lovely day like today - what could be better?

I arrived early, having had multiple problems with my Navigo on the RATRAP and figuring my invitee hadn't responded to my invitation due to pressing matters, I proceeded to order: a gaspacho, cochon de lait and some Morgan.

Just as my wine and soup arrived, so did she, fresh as a rose, having cab'd over from her place because by public trans you can't get here from there. So I halted, mid-taste (after determining the gaspacho needed a serious jolt of salt, ground pepper and chili) and she ordered the roast 1/2 chicken, which BTW, all the big boys and girls mentioned.

We sat, we talked, it was one beautiful day, we sat some more, we talked, and her chicken arrived - ah, it was a breast - which she detests. She starts to eat, I say no, ask for the thigh, she says OK. And she does (now this is me, who never says boo, and she, who always stands up for her rights). Hummm.

She gets the thigh, pours salt on it, says this is so dry and declares it the worst she's had in 10 years - surely an exaggeration but not by much.

I finally get enough salt, pepper and Tabasco to make the gaspacho a pale imitation of Colette's or mine, but edible.

Then I get my piggy thing and I use the term advisedly. It had once been some sort of a pork chop but was now a desiccated pencil strip of white something. The potatoes and salad were alright but not much of a much.

Dessert? You jest. If they cannot rotiss chicken and pork, who trusts them to make patisserie?

Two coffees and the bill for 58.40 E and we're outa there.

Go? If you're between films at the Cinematheque, buck up and starve.

OK, John, you've covered the thighs and breasts but what about the eyes? Actually that title came to me on the subway on the way home when I was sitting across from a female person who had her eyes over-mascar'd, her legs far apart and her cleavage in my face, who was either an old hooker trying to look young or a young adolescent trying to look old.

Shan Gout in the 12th: Terrific the 2nd time.

 

Shan Gout in the 12th is a place I'd only been to once before but thought Colette would like as it has unusual Chinese food, especially for Paris.  The amuse bouche of shaved Grannie Smith's had an ineffable herb off-setting the sweetish apple and was a perfect beginning.

The last time I was here I said that the tall man had done the cooking but critics described the woman as chief chef; well, today, all three persons greeted, waited, cooked and bid goodbye; cross-trained to a "t."

We ordered 4 mains: a daily special of Sichuan eggplant, cold chicken topped with chopped herbs, hot spicy pork with ginger and noodles with peanut sauce and teeny tiny shrimp and shaved Chinese red cabbage - all very good.

I still had a truc, and the desserts didn't appeal, so I ordered another cold main, the spiced cucumbers.

With a liter of red wine and 2 coffees, our bill was 68.40 E.

Shan Gout in the 12th: Best Chinese meal of the year, century, two centuries? Could be.

 

7.8 Shan Gout, 22, rue Hector Malot in the 12th, 01.43.40.62.14, closed Mondays, a la carte about 30 €, is one terrific place.

Now, I rated yam’Tcha ahead of Shan Gout numerically, despite the fact that I think it is better. What’s up here?

Well, while I think that this is/was the best Chinese meal I’ve ever, ever had, and that counts Hong Kong and Chinese chefs in Sai Gon in the 60’s, China in the ‘70’s, San Francisco and New York since the ‘50’s and Paris more recently, I don’t want certain schmucks going here and ruining it.

It’s a gem; 24 covers, in an area Aurelie Chaigneau, in today’s JDD, calls the [sic] “no man’s land of restaurants,” chef’d by a guy so guileless that when he grabbed his coat to leave before any orders had been taken, my mouth opened with horror, my face fell and I tumbled to the floor: it’s OK, Monsieur, he assured me, I’m just going out for the (fresh) fish, be right back. The whole experience is an experience.

The outside looks like a Chinese antique store, sign in Chinese hanzi, aka in Japanese – kanji, all over, who knows it’s a restaurant (Ans. The neighbors my friends). Enter, cool big-tummied Buddha one can’t resist rubbing for good luck, sit at beautiful/industrial/appropriate tables; incredible menu, a sort of cross between Taillevent’s wine list and the dioramic displays outside Japanese restaurants; when opened it’s a butterfly (as my eating pal noted), had pictures and descriptions in French and English (not always in concordance, for example porc = fish). Oh well.

Amuse bouche: slivered apples with basil – basil? in China, come on guy, get a grip; well, it was great. We order.

My partner has a really, really, sensitive intestine (I knew this, I cannot even leave her my raw veggies when I go away, did my bringing her here reveal some deep-seated hatred of French women my age? – I dunno, ask a Baltimore psychoanalyst.) Judge, judge, I didn’t know many of the dishes were Szechuanese.

OK, she ordered noodles with sesame sauce and cabbage and told them to hold back the peppers (they did); sounds like standard but tasty Broadway in the 80’s food, eh?; un unh; incredible, no sesame sauce like that ever I’ve had. I had what the aforementioned Aurelie Chaigneau in today’s JDD, said was their plat de resistance – slivered cucumbers with peppery oil – ordered medium hot (whew, I don’t want his hot hot) - simple, dumb to order, why am I doing this? Divine, sliced cucumber with hot sauce? Yah.

Then my guest had chicken with chestnuts; now, I do wok’d chicken but it doesn’t taste anything like his tender tiny bits with succulent chestnuts. I now run out of superlatives. My sliced pork Szechuan-style was also without fault.

At some point, I’m talking with Madame and I say this stuff is really good and she says - read the intro to the menu (which I thought I had); no MSG, old recipes, simple approach. Jadis I thought; we may have a new generation that’s going back to the future.

Now the bill; best meal of the year, best Chinese meal of the century, best chef I’ve watched work in years (Sorry, Daniel), 100 € a person, right? or 500 € a couple? Nope. Four dishes, one bottle of Bordeaux, no desserts (they don’t have ‘em), no bottled water or coffee = 46.90 €.

That’s one reason I’m rating it so low.

Don’t go, please, there are no tablecloths, no voituriers, no fortune cookies, please don’t go.

Le Chalet des Iles Daumesnil: When even beauty can’t overcome bad food. An archival* review

0.5 The Chalet des Iles Daumesnil on the Reuilly island in the Daumesnil lake in the Bois de Vincennes, 12th, 01.43.07.00.10, open everyday, all year, seemed the ideal place to go on a perfect day in late August.

It’s a bit of a schlep over from the Porte Dorée metro stop, but it is really beautiful, spectacularly beautiful, and makes you think you’re truly in the country, with swans, geese, boaters, bikers, runners, picnickers, etc.

The place sits on one of two islands in the lake, reachable by a bridge and despite looking uninhabited from the other shore, from the entrance looks huge with a grand lawn and chaises lounges spread all over and about 40 covers outside under umbrellas and who knows how many on the porch and inside. What a find!

Beautiful, nice menu with lots of choices and moderately priced wine by the glass, pot and bottle (4+, 12+ and 19+ € respectively). Ah, there’s something wrong with this picture, John. Yes, the food.

I ordered two items I thought were failsafe; “crispy” chicken and salad and gambas with a spicy sauce. I decided after my first bite of the mushy (hardly crispy) chicken that the spices it was cooked in were just “not to my liking” but I should withhold judgment on the dish because maybe it was just me.

But when the gambas came tough and rubbery and their sauce was equally “not to my liking,” I decided it was not just me.

One more ding; two of the waitstaff let me sit for minutes, indeed many, many minutes, with my menu clearly closed, without taking my order or calling “my” waiter; they were simply too busy conversing to tend to the ample number of customers.

Someone, Francois Simon, I think, said that by eating anonymously, one got what the average diner gets, not the 5 best crustaceans one would get if recognized – I’d wished I’d been outed.

The bill = 47 €.

Should one go? The Scots verdict: Not proven.

*Originally published in  September 2007.