John Talbott's Paris

Les Pinces in the 4th: Traif in the Marais; Yankees eating Yankee food.

7.0 Les Pinces, 29, rue du Bourg Tibourg in the 4th, 09.83.56.47.93 (but reservations for parties of 6+ only), Metro: equidistant from the Hotel de Ville & St Paul, looks really inviting from outside with its neon lobsters and jolly clientele - but wait, how does one enter?

Ah, there on the left is another jolly place full of jolly folks, but no way to get inside, wait, there is a big unmarked door between the two - push et voila.  Yup, this is the place; menu simple - whole lobster, lobster roll or cotes de boeuf - ah no thanks, in a lobster joint.  "Two lobsters please."

The lobsters, flown in from the US or Canada (ours today) were done to perfection and broken up so not a lot of effort had to be expended.  The fries and wine were surprisingly good although a green salad does not work with lobsters - get some coleslaw folks.  We shared a delicious cheesecake and were mighty happy.

Our bill, with two lobsters (I'd guess 1 1/4 which I like), the cheesecake, a bottle and glass of Sauvignon de Touraine, no bottled water but two coffees, was 95 E.  dB=97.1 (which is loud but we managed as only two people next to the window).

Go?  For my readers who are not from the Yankee North-East, for sure, and it's open weekend lunches.  My companion, who is an honorary Yankee because of her years in the States, pronounced it quite good indeed.

Miznon in the 4th: The wackiest, weirdest, wonderful "food experience" of 2014.

4.0 Miznon (as you'll see, I thought the food was a 6, my dining partner a 4 but the service was a solid 0), 22, rue des Ecouffes in the 4th, (don't bother telephoning 01.42.74.83.58 or 01.44.78.01.89, just show up early if you want a table), open everyday 12-12 except Shabbos (Metro: St Paul) is a "trip."  When I first read about it, its food was described as Tev Aviv street food and the service like one finds in a kibbutz. 

Sounded right to me and perfect for my old Franco-American friend who likes the Marais and knows from Tel Aviv, where the Mothership of Miznon exists.  So, you walk up the rue des Ecouffes and there's this minimalist place, OK, normal in Paris these days, whose windows and interior are filled with piles of fresh veggies; a carte on a blackboard written as if in a children's cantine, also routine here these days; and a wooden spoon for the handle in the toilet - now that was different. 

But the sense you get from the place is utter chaos - chefs are scarfing down food at the counter, hued guys (Sri Lankan, African, we argued which) are schlepping boxes of stuff in and to the cellar, tables aren't set (when they are, it's only with a big aluminum bowl and a napkin dispenser - for forks you have to climb over the owners discussing business on a couch and for plates ask the few waitfolks) and they're in no way ready to receive customers at 12 noon.  I think it's a hoot; my guest enters and says "I've ever seens anything so disorganized in my life, are you sure this is a restaurant?"  No, I say "it's an experience.  Lighten up."  "But I know Tel Aviv, this is nothing like Tel Aviv."  "Let's see." "Did you look at the carte when you came in?"  "No"  "So go now."

"I can't see much to eat, except the lamb kebab."
"Me too, why don't you go order two please."
"OK"
Long wait, she comes back
"We have to order and pay now at the counter but I told her you were a food critic so we'll get served quickly."
"Oh no you didn't. Now we're doomed."
Approach counter-lady.
"That's all you want?"  "No vegetables?"  Throws out suggestions.  "Cabbage, sweet potato, ratatouille, artichoke?"
"Artichoke."
"They're not ready yet."
"OK, so just two kebabs a tarte tatin and some wine, you have a list?"
"List?"  "Hey, Youssef, what'd'we got for wine?"
"I'm busy."
3 minutes later, another wait-lady schleps in a case of Merlot (Kosher of course).
We take condiments to table, sometime later, a woman shouts "A., sweet potato."
"Well, I'm A. but we never ordered one."
"Yes you did."
"Can we have our money back or some other vegetable?"  "Hummmm."
Minutes pass,
"A., kebabs."
But what they really were, were lamb meatballs in a pita.  By my lights, darn nice, crisp meatballs, OK meatballs, albeit in a paperbag as if to takeout, I'm happy."
But she says "this isn't a kebab, none of those things on a chalkboard described the real food."
"Hey A., this is an experience."
"And who ever saw a tart tartin like this?"
"Come on, it's dried apple slices, warmed up with caramel with a pseudo-hot-dog-roll made of pita, it's cool."
She exits to return to work.  I exit but try to get our veggie - no way.

The bill, including our undelivered veggie, was 54 E.

Go?  Me I would, but Colette never will (dB level over 80 dB) and my friend A. will cross the road before going by it again.

Le Metropolitain in the 4th 2.3 years later: Better but not great.

Shortly after a Top chef candidate took over Le Metropolitain, in the 4th, around October 2011, I went with two fellow food-bloggers and thought it merited only a 3.5/10.  Since then, one reliable poster on a reliable food site urged me to reconsider and today I took a trusted, albeit chatty, food and wine connaisseur, with me.  We both spent a lot of time looking at the carte and red wine list and decided both were uninteresting and had poor prix/quality ratios.  So the menu and a white wine it was.  How could we go wrong for 22 E and 24 E respectively?

We found out very quickly: the pressed chicken and foie gras terrine (my friend declared it "one dimensional") was saved only by the two capers served, it needed dozens of them t come alive; then we had the nems of confited veal and layered potato cake - "this is tastier" he said; and finally came a millefeuille of chocolate - at which point he said "average, average, John."

Now disclosure: my friend tends to be a bit of a blabber-mouth and thinks I'm some sort of big deal blogger, which attribution he disclosed to Madame, who rewarded us with two more glasses of the Valencay with dessert.

Our bill with the two menus, good bread, one Valencay and one coffee, was 68 E.

Go again?  Not me, even though it was quiet (84.4 dB), partly because the couple next to us looked to be breaking up and rarely talked or looked at each other.

Les Nautes in the 4th: Very cool setting, very nice food, very warm service.

6.4 Les Nautes, 1, quai des Celestins in the 4th (Metro: St Paul or Sully-Morland), is open Wednesday through Sunday, 01.42.74.59.53, and occupies an old abandoned Ports de Paris building, recently restored.  Today was the beginning of Nautic 2013 at the Porte de Versailles, so that seemed a good excuse to look out over the water and sample the cuisine of Sofia Bouziane (ex-Robuchon, ex-Pourcels).  The interior is cool, almost butcher-block tables, slatted metal ceiling, 2nd floor seating (not to mention the tables outdoors on the quai itself which during Paris Plage must be teeming.)

My invitee had already installed herself in the corner and by the time I arrived, the rain had stopped and the sun was shinning brightly in her eyes - "Would you like to move over here a bit where it's shady," said our genial host.  "Indeed," and it was done.  The menu had several intriguing items and when we mentioned a Languedoc as our wine, our host proposed two bottles both of which he had us taste.  The Bois-Sans-Soif pleased my compagnion most and there we went.

After a bit of hesitation, she ordered the shaved fennel with agrume wedges and I had a dozen No 2 oysters (for 18 E, a bargain I thought); both were very good.

Again hesitating, she asked our host's advice on a main course and she had it - a big ravioli with a nice dish of shaved parmesan on the side - which she deemed OK.  But I loved my baby pork shoulder with turnips from Pardailham in the Hérault/Languedoc-Roussillon - scrumptious.  Finally, we shared an outstanding Paris-Brest.

Our bill, with no bottled water, a bottle of wine and two coffees, was 91.60 E.  dB level 71.3.

Go?  If it was good today, on a sunny day in summer it'll be divine.

The Cafe Francais in the 4th: Oh the tangled webs we weave, when first we practice to deceive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2.0 Le Café Francais, 3, place de la Bastille in the 3th, 01.40.29.04.02 (Metro: Bastille) is a Costes (which I only this week learned was pronounced Coast not Cost-esse) Family restaurant, a group I have been wary of, ever since I first encountered one of the then 40 establishments they ran/run - Time called them "The Brothers who ate Paris."   In any case, last week I ate at Le Petit Marché, another new Costes place and I decided maybe I've been wrong about these guys all these years. So, it's a Sunday, right, and I had to find a place accessible to/for my chef-pals with a pousette and up popped Le Café Francais.  It's a nice enough place, cool setting, huge terrace, blue on blue and a menu that while pricey, looked like it could have something for everyone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Actually I had trouble finding a first, but after my friend showed up minus the distaff side of the family, he readily ordered some foie gras, which, with a half of a buttered, toasted ficelle and a curried mango condiment, was darn good.  My petit pois soup on the other hand was pretty tasteless even with salt and pepper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then he had some pricy chicken which was in his words "sous videy" and in mine "yuckily moist" with a huge side of FRENCH FRIES (we can call them that again) and I had a whole merlan Colbert (that is,  fried) which even with a double portion of tartare sauce, salt, pepper and lime, was not up to the standard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He ended with a fruit salad that we agreed was pretty good.

With a bottle and glass of wine, no bottled water, OK bread and butter and two coffees, our bill was a shocking 153 E; incredible, there must be a mistake, no, it's correct, Holy Cow!

Go back?  I fear not in any case, not under any circumstances, not under any threat.  So what's with the Scott (not Shakespere) quote - oh I felt deceived, snookered, scammed, robbed.

Le Sergent Recruteur in the 4th: It deserves its star altho' the price-quality can be questioned.

8.0 Le Sergent Recruteur, 41 rue St-Louis-en-l'ile in the 4th (Metro: Pont Marie), 01.43.54.75.42, closed Sundays and Mondays has been around several months and in the meantime garnered a Michelin star (while Spring still, yet, again, has not), was Pudlo's Revelation of the Year - but also caught some flak from some reviewers.  A friend and I were celebrating our individual triumphs (I had been invited as a Delegate to an OECD Symposium) and we decided to order the ghastly priced menu degustation (at 95 E) "to celebrate and test the kitchen" over the 3-course menu of the market (65 E).  It's the same old place you've walked by time after time but now has these cool but confusing mirrors; and hardly were we seated than one of the legion of wait-people enquired about drink - so straight to the wine (the wines BTW are priced over a spectrum, not the usual star-gazing prices.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First off we were served amuse bouches of sweetbreads and a very light mustard and a soup of carrot and organge; then not too assertive slices of mackerel from the ile d'Yeu, wild black radishes and goat cheese driblets (and dill); and then urchins with a celery puree/cream.  All were inventive and different and offset by the herbs served with, around and in them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then came one of the best product seared scallops of my life with a carrot puree and a simply lovely bouillion/sauce; razor clams atop green al dente asparagus; and a nice piece of daurade with cauliflower heart.  Again, inventive, refreshing and interesting.

Intermission: Before my dining pal came in, one of the wait-folk hauled a huge standing rib beef hunk to one of the front tables and now another took this great looking black-footed Challans chicken up front too.  Ok back to work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

At this point we were served our fowl, a pigeon with beet root and pomegrante seeds; a slice of very perfectly excellant (is that enough superlatives?) affinated Salers; and the desserts - a grapefruit sorbet with grapefruit slices (I photo'd it on its plate made by a Japanese artist living in the UK) and one of slices of pear, green coffee ice cream, Jeruselem artichoke and little brownies cubes.  Boy!  Wow!  Hey!  But the meal was not over.

With coffee came the obligatory mignardises, but they aren't always obligatorily good and these were special.

The bill, Oy!, but I knew it - with superb bread and their own butter made in house, no bottled water (my friend held herself back) a bottle and glass (for the cheese) of wine and two coffees it was 120 E - a couple John?  Ah no, a person.

Go?  I would encourage it; next month I'll take Colette here for her birthday, convincing her she's earned it after 52 years of putting up with me, even if we have to have the 65 E menu to satify her Puritan purse.  And BTW, after suffering through Chabanel's ex-South African meal yesterday, it was a pleasant surprise to taste this one by a guy (Antonin Bonnet) and his team who worked at a London joint - Greenhouse - for quite a while. 

 

Le Gorille Blanc in the 4th: New address, new chef, new look.

5.4 Le Gorille Blanc, 4, impasse Guemenee in the 4th, 01.42.72.03.45, closed Sundays, moved from the 7th over to this (old) Les Cotelettes space with a new look and new chef; it's gotten mixed reviews with Toinard finding his pork chop too dry but Fuffy's review on Chowhound in September came to me when I needed to find a place near my old friend's cabinet in the Marais.

Now, how many places can you eat at that say this?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The specials looked great today but the whole carte was equally impressive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The grilled mackerel with shredded beets and raifort was fine; I'm not sure the beets added anything and I couldn't taste the horseradish, but it was an interesting combo.  Then we both had the civet de biche with cepes and while I found the biche too dry, game are forever running, right? so they never develop fat, but the cepes saved the preparation.  Finally, after much deliberation we split a croustade ariegeoise with prunes  and apples; it's a light pastry specialty of the Couserans region and was the high point of the meal.

With a bottle of Madiran, no bottled water and two coffees, the bill was 92 E.

Go?  I'd like to hear more positive feedback before I take Colette.  But it's way better than it was in November 2005 when I rated the former chef a 3/10.

Le Cafe La Tour du Temple in the 4th (gasp!): An astonishing find, good price-quality and it's good once in a while to test out one's rating scale by eating at average, mediocre and awful places.

5.2 Le Cafe La Tour du Temple, 160 bis rue du Temple in the 4th, 01.42.72.13.44, open 7/7 (Metro: Temple or Republique) is a café aveyronnais, evidently here since 1970, described on Paris.com as a "popular address" which has food at "good values."  There is a very long back story to how I found myself here which if you hate long, rambling, senseless, apologetic back-stories, you should skip.

Back-story.  #1 on my famous "list" of places to go was "L'Ilot" at 4, rue de la Corderie, a seafood joint that got a very pleasant review Tuesday in/on Le Fooding which said it was open Sunday for lunch.  Me, being paranoid, called, recording says clearly open Saturday and Sunday noon to 4 and we don't take reservations, you cannot leave a message - so take that! (no I made that last bit up).  I go, it's closed, how do I find a place for a Sunday lunch where I've never eater before?  I had 2 bakups but they were far away.  Do what I always tell people not to do - look around?  Yup.  So I walk around and between the Place de la Republique and the Carreau du Temple there are maybe 15 places for open Sunday lunch, but once you discard Indiana, Italian pizzerias and ice cream shops, you have not much left until, until, until you chance onto the Cafe La Tour du Temple.  Brunch - yuck!

But hark, the ardoise beckons and looks not bad.  "Petit question" "what is Camenbert [sic] a Mimi?"  Answer: Mimi, waving to the bald guy standing on the edge of the California kitchen, "he's the chef, it's his hot concoction."   OK.

Place is pretty spiffy, indeed cool, with a mix of locals and a few non-American visitors.

I decide to play DEEfense, definitely.  The tartare of tomatoes, avocado and crevettes arrives - crevettes taste fresh, not-thawed, tomato not hot house, avocado real - really tasty.  Gloria Gaynor has nothing on me.

Filet of loup (bass) arrives, top looks and tastes hard, fish is fresh but kinda white bland, huh?  But put the girolles in a thick black sauce on it and it comes alive.  Rice not bad, not bad at all.  Salad and tomato cut artfully - OK.

OK, John, so far Mimi has far outdone almost any other chef in the 4th - push him on dessert?  Nah, he's no pastry chef, chicken out and order a boule of artisinal caramel beurre sale - delicious.

Bread and coffee are pathetic but the Cotes du Rhone is wonderful.

Bill, with all that, is 34.60 E.

Go?  If L'Ilot is closed unexpectedly, if you have a fainting attack in front of the place or if your backpack is just too heavy to go another step, most definitely, but to go more than a block to eat here/there, I wouldn't recommend; even though it was "pas mal", "not bad at all."

Le Dome du Marais: Still a beautiful setting with less stunning food.

5.2 Le Dome du Marais, 53bis, rue des Francs-Bourgeois in the 4th, 01.42.74.54.17, open 7/7, is a place I remember eating at under its prior chef and management many years ago; I was stunned by the setting and fresh, locavore product theme. 

Well, it's still stunning, but the food while good, is not.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The amuse-gueule was a nice enough bit of avocado/guacamole, Madame's "frozen" pea soup (she being French got the English carte and I got the French one) was nice and my tartare of daurade with ginger and lime was, ahhh, nice.  So far no fireworks.

At about this point, a former writer colleague sitting at the next table sent me her card and in due time we chit-chatted with her and the publicity-marketing person, all very nice, no really, but the main courses took forever to arrive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Madame had ordered the beef tartare lok lak (which I'd never heard of but our nice wait-person explained had an Asiatic twist; indeed, lok lac is a (cooked) Cambodian beef with soy, garlic and oyster sauce, but my well-traveled friend said she also tasted cardamon) and I had a St Pierre with veggies and potatoes with lardon bits and a side of celery puree.  All quite, well, nice.

I skipped dessert but she had the cafe gourmand where the brownie was the best part and I a plain coffee.

With a bottle of Chinon, another glass of house red, good bread and no bottled water, our bill should have been 109.50 E but they made an "error" and charged us for yet another glass of wine - I don't know whether to be angrier at myself for not really inspecting the bill or them for sloppiness, greed or immaturity.

Go?  I'm afraid that despite the stunning decor and setting (although the chairs in the anteroom were unsittable-in), the price-quality, lack of pizzaz, long wait and over-charging over-ride whatever scenery there is.

Le Brasserie de l'Isle/ile St. Louis: Founded in 1953 and stayed the course.

5.5 Le Brasserie de l'Isle/ile St. Louis, 55, quai de Bourbon in the 4th (Metro: Cite or Pont-Marie), 01.43.54.02.59, closed Wednesdays, is a place you've been been by time out of mind, remember, at the point of the Island facing Notre Dame, the place with thousands of fellow travelers around it and in it.  Sure you do, and so do I, from 1953, when it first opened and I first went by it, dewy-eyed and awe-struck.

So how did I and Paris' hottest chef find ourselves there on a blustery Sunday noon.  Well, (1) It was Sunday noon, (2) All my comrades-in-arms had been invited by their new P.R. folks so I knew something was "up" and (3) It was Sunday noon.  Now, I'm not sure I went in, in 1953 but I guarantee you, if I had, it would have looked exactly the same: checkered napkins, bustling waiters in black and whites and the noble front-room host in a suit and tie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The menu is classic 1953 brasserie stuff, except for no oysters; I won't repeat it, but it had all the Golden Oldies. So sit back and let the good times roll.  My eating partner had the leeks and I had the salad frisee with lardons, that I first had in 1953 I think for the first time at Aux Lyonnais - they were both just fine, but mine was Julot-sized and I gave up after 80%.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then he pulled back from the liver English style thinking it might have a dusting of flour which would put him in a very bad humor, indeed, and went with the entrecote while I went full blast with the cassoulet which was the equivalent of those at the old/original Auberge Pyrenees-Cevennes, which was also a Les Pinceau portion.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For desserts; he had the Berthillon ices while I carried on with the classics; a millefeuille.

With a bottle of their fine wine of the month, two coffees and no bottled water, our bill was 104.80 E.

Go?  If you want classic stuff, midst all the French folk let out of their retirement homes and all the folks clutching dictionaries in many languages and don't mind "Turkish" toilets, by all means - it's fun, as good as 1953 gets and reasonable enough.