John Talbott's Paris

Les Bistrotters in the 14th: "This is the best meal we've have this week, excepting Spring," my exigent friends from the Big Apple said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5.8 Les Bistrotters, 9, rue Decres in the 14th, (Metro: Plaisance), 01.45.45.58.59, closed Sundays and Mondays, has been garnering rave reviews since it opened recently and we could see why.  It has a great, diverse menu, the products are super-good, the wine list is outstanding, the website is ultra-cool (http://www.bistrotters.com/?lang=en), and the salle man/owner, François Gallice, Chef Erwan le Gahinet and Commis Maïna Marchal, all are young and enthusiastic.  I entered way late (I'm just learning my new bus-routes from our new flat 180 meters from the old joint) to find that my visitors from New York had already engaged the proprietor and neighboring table ladies in conversation in English mind you and the adventure began.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All three of us had an enormously difficult time choosing between the offerings but finally settled on foie gras with toast (superb) and a pissaladiere of escargots with a strange dressing and unusual cheesey layered topping that puzzled/pleased me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For mains - Madame had a divine farm chicken stuffed with almost cusinarted mushrooms and a foie gras sauce; M. had a beef filet with frites which were nowhere (that is, standard over here) with a pepper sauce that made the beef come alive and sing הַלְּלוּיָהּ (Hallelujah  for the goyim) and I had a gigot of lamb, which for me, was just a tad too close to veering off to Muttonville, with a Rosemary sauce, all with a lot of veggies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As we were halfway thru the mains, we all stopped and agreed, let's schlep the rest home and have dessert.  So we went on to share a pain perdu of brioche with beurre sale caramel and a crisp chocolate thingy and a tarte of two citrons (I forgot to ask, but I assume citron and citron vert) with an Italian Meringue (which I also forgot to ask about how it differed from the French and Swiss kinds - Extra credit for reading this.)

In any case, with two bottles of Languedoc Les Voiles Latines, no bottled water but 3 coffees our bill was 99 E a couple.

Go?  I definitely would despite some bumps in the road; this is a place the NYT is bound to ruin soon.  And dB level cool - 70.5

L'Essentiel in the 14th: Can there be such a thing as bistro food that's too hardy?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5.6 L'Essentiel, 168 rue d'Alesia in the 14th, 01.45.42.64.80, open 7/7, (Metro: Plaisance) has great origins: Olivier Gaslain of Villaret and Rudy Marton, formerly at the Bistrot des Soupirs « Chez les On ».  And its cool exterior is matched by cool wall chalk drawings and a cool metal frame over a big (maybe 8 or 10) common table.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the prices are right: 17 E for a three course "menu" at lunch even on weekends, wines starting at 17 E a bottle and even wild duck and hare for no more than 15 or 16 E.  Colette took one look at the "menu", saw riz au lait and that was that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So she started with the Jerusalem artichoke and chestnut soup; while our two invitees had rillettes of rabbit and a terrine of wild boar; and I had rognons blancs with a spicy sauce and salad (now I had to ask our genial host what rognons blancs were - at which point he pointed with both hands to his kidneys then dropped them to his crotch - ah, prarie oysters.)  All 4 dishes were very good and very filling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then Colette had the breast of chicken with creamed leeks; two of us had the thigh of hare cooked in red wine and with lots of veggies, including most succulent mushrooms; and the other the female pheasant with cabbage.  Now here's where Colette and I had some difficulty finishing so much hardy food; so doggy-bags were summoned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But she didn't have so much that she missed out on her specialty - rice pudding - and our guests shared the creme tendre (really a pot) of chocolate with warmed poundcake, that the female side of, being a pastry chef, commented on most favorably.

With two and a half bottles of a Cotes du Rhone Primeur, no bottled water but four Illy coffees, our bill calculated out at 71.96 E a couple.

Go?  On a cold day, for hardy food, well cooked, at reasonable prices, you bet.

Le Cabanon de l'Ecailler in the 14th: Very fine products from Marenne-Oleron: My streak is unbroken.

6.5 Le Cabanon de l'Ecailler, 14, place Constantin-Brancusi in the 14th (Metro: Gaite), 01.43.20.52.17, closed Sunday nights and Mondays, is the second to La Cagouille where David Herve (who if I'm not mistaken, used to sell his bivalves from a table in the Square/Place) has a largely outside area under an awning with heaters.

One has a sense of being in a jungle hut on the Brittany coast inhabited (this afternoon) by my age-group let out of their "homes" for the afternoon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a regular carte, plus a daily menu at 15 E, plus an ardoise with various interesting specials - today a salad of tomatoes and lettuce with various crustaceans and a fish soup with the usual.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two of us had the fish soup which we both deemed needed salt and pepper and indeed with their addition, it was darn good; thick and punchy.  M. had the Casier plate that consisted today of langoustines, red shrimp (they were out of crab) and 3 Speciales No 4 at the same price as the Fines they were out of.  Madame had a generous portion of red shrimp and I 6 Speciales No 4 which came with butter than was undistnguished but bread that was.

With no dessert or bottled water, one Illy coffee and two bottles of fine Gros Plant our bill was 98.50, thus 65.666666666 E a couple.

Go?  Absolutely; even on a blustery, cold, rainy grey day - hey, you think you're in Brittany.

La Cerisaie in the 14th: "Better than ever," my old friend said.

The other day, my main food guy whom I've known long enough to have been in our wedding, said 'Let's go to Cerisaie."  "Good idea," said I.  "Let's do it."

To some extent, nothing's changed since 2003 when it opened under Cyril and Maryse Lalanne's control; it still has an astonishingly comprehensive carte plus 4 specials; something for everyone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We argued among ourselves as to who got the best starter; all were superb; the fresh morilles with egg, white asparagus and a cassoulet of beans, escargots and chorizo.

 

 For mains we had sauteed foie gras (which could have been a bit warmer but I think chef wanted to retain the moist inside) with polenta, a civet of tripes, that Paga had dropped by the resto earlier this week to ensure was on the carte, and a lovely salmon; again all the dishes were, like Lake Woebegon, above average.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And I hesitate to say it again, but all our desserts were terrific as well; from the fluffy/runny caramel mousse through the dried fruit jam with roquefort ice cream (you read that right) to the strawberries and ice cream.

With super bread, 2 bottles of Pays de l'Herault wine and 4 coffees our bill came to 100.50 E a couple; right there on the price line.

Le Petit Broc' in the 14th; Great company, OK food.

6.1 Le Petit Broc', 206 Blvd Raspail in the 14th, 01.40.47.74.83, open 7/7, has apparently been open since October and as I looked for a place on my infamous "list" that was open Sundays, that I hadn't eaten at, and served more than a dreaded brunch, this seemed it.

The interior is quite lovely and I entered just as Madame was exiting to do some important chore or other and Monsieur at first greeted me and then turned his back to do another important chore at the computer.  She re-entered and said the equivalent of "why are you ignoring that nice elderly man in the suit with the phony briefcase standing by the entrance waiting patiently to be seated?"  So I, and we, were.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My chef-buddy, on a busman's holiday, opted for the lentils with poached egg (evidently from my last few months' eating experiences, all the rage this year), while I had a salad of thinly sliced carrots and cukes with nicely-dressed lettuce and other greens surrounded with strips of shaved cucumber and topped and surrouded by wonderful sauteed scallops and unripe raw tomatoes.  "Tomatoes and cukes at the end of January?" sez I, "Oh, I was offered fraises de bois the other day," sez he.  Goodness gracious, so much for slow food, locavore and save the planet.  But BTW, both our dishes were in his words "quite tasty."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then he had what was called the fondant of beef, but as he noted and I confirmed, it was more akin to (his wife's) boeuf bourguignon, not that it wasn't OK; and I had the croustillant of gambas which were terrific save for the sauce which was like the sweet sauce that come in packets with take-away Chinese food - too damn cloying.  But again, the gambas tempura'd were just fine; and again there were a lot of thinly-sliced veggies, this time cooked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Desserts were really weird, not bad, just unexpected.  His chocolate mousse was more like a cross between a chocolate fluff and whipped cream and my brownies were unlike anything Fanny Farmer ever saw the likes of, more like a cross between a fudge strip and chocolate bar, with dried fruits and nuts that had seen better days.

With a bottle of wine, two coffees and their own water, our bill was 103.20 E. (in fairness they did have a three course menu for 22.50 E, even at Sunday lunch).

Go?  Well, if I were staying around the Gare Montparnasse I might go back.

Bonus photo: Twice I've seen three identical cars with these identical giant hotdogs toodling around; seems the Scientologists are into weiners these days.  There must be some symbolism here since Ron Hubbard's name is on them.

Le Bistrot du Dome in the 14th; Maybe you can't go home again.

Sometime after we first bought our pied-à-terre in Paris in 1990-1991 we read a review by then Paris Food Critic Patricia Wells (now a colleague at Paris By Mouth) in the IHT about the Bistrot du Dome in the 14th and we're blown away by the great quality of the fish, the selection and the prices, including the wines, all of which, if I'm not mistaken, priced at 99 FF a bottle (about 18 E then.)

I'm happy to say that in these 20 or so years, the decor is as bright and semi-nautical, the service as wonderful and the wine as well-priced (although now at 24.10 E a bottle) as ever.  The ardoise, however, is a bit different; it used to feature coques or patagos, salmon tartare, grilled sardines, tuna and smelt but today featured langoustines, solettes, bar, cod and the like - a step up in popularity and price.  And the staff, all of whom I knew and vice-versa, have turned over 20 times.

I alone ordered a starter, shown here as a half-consumed, decontructed "salad" of perfectly cooked langoustines with greens on a lukewarm tomato/onion base; quite nice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Colette had two wonderful (but too much for a single dish) rougets with an OK ratatouille side-dish and our downstair's neighbor and I had the ray with capers which instead of the subtle browned butter sauce of my memory, had an enormous amount of creamy cream on top, with superb potatoes aside - and I'm no potato-judge.

The deserts all looked familiar, classical and good.  You may note something on the chalkboard Colette and I have never seen before - a reduction in the price of the chocolat (and it was similar with the ray) - hummm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The millefeuille with rum had a great crust and good rum but a ton too much whipped cream, or am I just getting crankier and older?;  Colette's moelleux was made with about the best chocolate ever; and my baba was of good texture with the same good rum but also had a ton too much whipped cream, or am I getting even crankier and older?

Our bill with a bottle and glass of wine, typical served-with-bivalves-bread and three terrific coffees, was 139.50 E, ergo 93 E a couple.

Go?  As they say in my crowd; "let's give it a rest."

Cobea in the 14th: Big disappointment but great company. How many clichés does it take to screw in a light bulb?

3.5 Cobea, 11, rue Raymond-Losserand in the 14th (the old M. Lapin aka Mr Rabbit space) came recommended to me by my primo food finder in Paris since the glorious 1960's and I was looking forward to it so much I saved it up for sharing with my two newest friends J & R, just like the record store in New York.

We arrived and we're impressed by the edgy decor, cool albeit slightly lumpy chairs and impressive looking 38 E "menu".  We were asked right off the bat if we desired a drink and two of us opted for a bottle of Rasteau Cotes du Rhone Villages - I know, I know, cheap crap right?  Unh unh.  Quite good, indeed so good J. wrote the name down in his book.

The amuse gueule (served after being given the astonishingly, amazing but now clichéd expanding hot towel in water) served with darn good bread and "interesting" butter with parsley on another cliché, slate plates, was a teeny tiny crab shell filled with crab with a clichéd bisque fluff and supposedly apple and quince hints as well - couldn't prove it by me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Firsts were a choice between razor clams with clichéd fluff (I found the clams rubbery but J. loved them) and R. and I both thought the rubbery pasta shell needed thought, although the "poached" foie gras was crisp on the outside, moist in the inside and the accompanying endives and onions quite good.  So far so good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tasteless cod with tasteless sauce was a shameful reminder that some species are endangered, not because of overfishing, but by lousy cooking; my young partridge (perdreau) so overcooked as to be bordering on the shameful as well.  N.B. J. had heard me order it (without being asked) "rosé towards blue", "You sure Monsieur?"  "It's wild, you know, it should not be dry." "Yes I know, I don't want it dry."  Sure.

At this point, I said with all the wisdom that geezerhood brings - "Another U-shaped meal."  "Huh? they said."  Me, "There were great firsts, lousy mains, but they'll pull it out of the fire with great desserts."  Ah, hope lives in the hearts of men despite facts.  Geezerhood also brings on stupidity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The waitperson wanted to know if we wanted cheese, actually I wanted out, but J. ordered the aged comté with weird flecks of weird things on top and, I'm not making this up, there were witnesses, sweet zabaglione/sabayon which came on you guessed it - the clichéd slate; the desserts, touted by our waitguy to be better than chocolate were a sorbet of lemon & ginger and speculos (Belgian gingerbread thins) on the film of chocolate topped with a mousse of - oh, forget it - and shaved and candied almonds; and snap-head-back-sour passion fruit halves and lemon things.

"So John, have you nothing nice to say?"

Well, yes, I guess so - the entranceway to the wc has a glass panel that reminded me of the 103rd floor glass box in Chicago's Sears Tower, except this looks down on their wine cellar.

Our bill, with the equivalent of two bottles of wine (it's complicated), no bottled water, an extra cheese and two coffees (included) was 182 E, thus 121 E a couple; ouch.

Go?  As I read in a brilliant short story today by Hakuri Murakami in the New Yorker - "If you can't understand it without an explanation, you can't understand it with an explanation."

Le Pavillon Montsouris in the 14th: Gorgeous setting for mediocre food.

 
4.0 Le Pavillon Montsouris, 20 Rue Gazan (front), Montsouris Park (back) in the 14th, 01.43.13.29.00, open 7/7, has had a new chef, Sébastien Dagoneau, for about a year, and I haven't been back in 12.  He trained at and for l'Hotel Vendôme, le Ritz, Lucas Carton and the Grand Véfour so I figured this to be a promising place during my end of summer quest for bucolic eating.  I dragged two collleague-friends into joining me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All three of us ordered the 49 E menu-carte (a la carte could go over 100 E); firsts were a slice of foie gras with apple chutney and crab on top of avocado with grapefruit, tomato tartare and an agrume vinaigrette; sounds tasty doesn't it?  Unh, unh, as close to cardboard as one can get.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then the two of them had cod with confited fennel and an onion compote and I the canette with a roast pear and dried fruits - I never realized duck is rather bland unless it's confited or comes with an assertive sauce which this was not.  At this point my French friend asked what the score was - "3.5 I thought."  "Tough grader," he said.

Luckily, dessert, roasted pineapple with "exotic" fruits, no longer so exotic as they were in 1968 and a pina colada emulsion and mango sorbet pulled the grade up to a 4.0.

The bill with one bottle of wine for the 3 of us, no bottled water, so-so bread, would come to 125 E a couple.

Go?  If you've got money eating a hole in your pocket and want a spectacular view where you can see your kids cavorting about on the grassy knolls, yes.

Le Cornichon in the 14th: Good comfort food in a nice area.

 
5.5 Le Cornichon, 34, rue Gassendi in the 14th, 01.43.20.40.19, closed Saturdays and Sundays, Metro: Mouton-Duvernet, opened quietly last summer but I noted that it was chef'd by a second to Stephane Jego at L'Ami Jean and it's been creeping up my list despite Rubin's cutting comment that the service was "Poli mais perdu."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had some business to conduct with a friend/colleague who works not 12-17 minutes away so I thought it was ideal.  He started off with a gaspacho he deemed just average, no big deal, but my quickly warmed sardines in olive oil with shaved raw fennel were more than nice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He then had a very nice piece of cod (cod seems to be really good this spring/summer) with lima beans and I had the braised melt-in-your-mouth veal with peas and cherry tomatoes; a nice combo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally my friend had the pears and I the creme brulee, both OK and your basic comfort food, perfect for the first cloudy day in a while.

Our bill, with a bottle of wine, no bottled water and two coffees (and quite decent bread) was 95 E.

Anything wrong?  Yes, when an entire office staff entered and took the long table and started talking the noise was deafening but luckily their food arrived promptly and I and my friend were able to conclude our business quite successfully.

Go?  As I was finishing my coffee, an American Professor on sabbatical introduced himself (as I encourage everyone to do) and indicated that he lived not far away and this was one of "his places."  I think if I lived here, it might be too but to cross town for it is a bit of stretch.

Le Severo in the 14th: There'll always be an England (Whoops, France), for Beef.

5.4 Le Severo, 8, rue des Plantes in the 14th, (Metro: Mouton-Duvernet), 01.45.40.40.91, closed Saturday night and Sundays, is the place to go for (French, Desnoyers, rather than Brit, Angus) beef, esp. the Côte.  Today, date of the too-much over-hyped Brit-Royal wedding, to which I wasn't invited, rumor has it because the German House of Windsor bunch running the spectacles these days still nurses a grudge against the loyal followers of William (Guillaume le Conquérant), of whom the Talbots/Talbotts were worthy Norman supporters in his successful attempt to overthrow the mistress-loving Harold Godwinson, aka Harold II.  
In any case, Paga and I need beef today and we got it from the source, once again.  And betcha dinna know where the name of the resto Severo came from: I learned from a local that a Spanish pilot crashed his flying-thing into/onto the Ave de Maine and I Googled it and got an article shockingly titled "M. SEVERO'S AWFUL FATE; One of the Most Shocking Balloon Accidents Known." but then the NYT failed me, saying simply that "The first paragraph is not available for this article."  However....on further exploration it turns out that said Sr. Auguste Severo on May 12th, 1902, did indeed have a grave accident around here.

Severo/Desnoyer's beef is not for the faint of heart or wallet, running one 80 E for two - but it is the Gold Standard and the method of making the frites should be required reading for the chefs at the other 39,999 restos in the ville.  We had ours saignant, not my prefered blue, but I was calm about it and it was darn good.

P. really wanted more strawberries (I've been gorging on them from Spain on) and while I resisted at first - it turned out that the berry/puree combo was pretty much best of show of the month.

Our bill?, you doan wanna know, but with the côte, strawberries, bottle of wine and two coffees one can escape only 114 E poorer - of course with the dollar falling by the second, buyer beware.