John Talbott's Paris

Robert Frank and Sophie Ristelhueber at the Jeu de Paume (Concorde)

 

If you look up cliché in the dictionary the second meaning is of a photo and I used to think the word was derogatory, as it is in English, but no.

However, Frank's photos are clichés in both senses of the word; they're familiar, he's had a number of shows dedicated to him after all and they're just photos.

For some reason, the ones about the US are much better than those of Paris but the show is well worth seeing.

I loved the following quote on the wall from Jack Kerouac's Introduction to the book "The Americans" "Robert Frank, Swiss, unobtrusive, nice, with that little camera that he raises and snaps with one hand he sucked a sad poem right out of America onto film,....."

 

The second show at the Jeu is often a throw-away but the one of Sophie Ristelhueber's work is first rate and worth seeing as well.  And you get a bonus of looking out at the Tuileries which on a bright day is superb.

Both shows run til March 22nd.

Le Clou de Fourchette in the 17th: Neither wine bar nor resto, but OK for the nabe.

 

4.0 Le Clou de Fourchette, 121, rue de Rome in the 17th, 01.48.88.09.97, a la carte running one from 20-30 € is in a godforsaken part of the 17th, alongside the train tracks and on a cold day, it seemingly takes forever to get there. But the welcome is warm.

Like the Café Moderne, it’s a long box-car room but its bar runs nearly the length of the room like Les Cocottes and it’s very brightly decorated and has an open kitchen so (as opposed to La Fidelite yesterday, one can see what comes out of the frigo, and what’s made anew).

The menu is simple and as befits a glorified wine bar, heavy on sliced meats and fish. I ordered the “small” starter of smoked tuna from the Ile d’Yeu (my favorite island in the world) and it with the salmon and anchovies and grilled veggies was a dinner by itself and quite good.

Unsuspecting, I ordered a magret de canard, assuming it would be the usual. Now I know magret is often tough, even in my skilled hands, but the chef decided to prepare it in brochettes, which even when supposedly rosé came out tough as leather.

In retrospect I probably should have gone for the scallops or shrimp. There were lots of wine choices, running from 3 € a glass on up, the bread was decent and the Illy coffee terrific.

My bill = 37 Euros.

Go again? I suspect not, unless stuck in the area.

Q:Air-conditioned? A:Sort of. An archival* essay.

Q:Air-conditioned? A:Sort of.

The recent canicule, reminiscent of the disastrous one in 2003, prompted my friend P. to suggest that I warn Americans what to expect in Paris when they ask the simple question – “Is your restaurant air-conditioned?”

Four of us were on one of our gastronomic tears in Paris during the heat wave and we were looking to eat at fine old favorites and a few fine new favorites but not in tropical conditions. So naturally we asked when making reservations: “Is your restaurant air-conditioned?” The answer invariably was “Of course.”

The first day we went to a relatively new place, Ribouldingue, where Yves Camdeborde’s ex-second at Le Comptoir du Relais prides himself on serving abats, e.g. innards. It’s located in the old Fogon space, you know, the one chef’d by Alberto Herraiz, the paella king of Paris. Which may explain why it was perfectly chilly; all that spice and open paella pans call for moderation in temperature.

But the next day we approached Drouant – the resto recently restored with loving care by Antoine Westerman of Mon Viel Ami and Le Beurehiesel in Strasbourg - and walked through the terrace to the dining room and it seemed about the same temperature as outside under the umbrellas. And indeed, it was. For the simple reason that the huge windows between the internal salle and external sidewalk were wide open. We chose the “terrace” and 75% of us were OK with it, but air-conditioned it was not, unless you count the breeze emanating from the passing “motos.”

Then we ate at Les Anges aka Chez Les Anges, another wonderfully resuscitated place, where there is no terrace but where toward the front there is a quite visible air-conditioning duct. However, the huge sliding glass window fronting the street and front door were open. We must have asked twice for relief from the heat and finally were rewarded with some breeze from overhead when the glass window was closed (but the door left open).

And finally, what a difference a day makes. Colette and I had eaten earlier in the week at Jarrasse in Neuilly, yet another old place with a new face, this by father and daughter Rostang, and it was not bad – the temperature I mean; the food was spectacular. But the other part of our foursome ate there a week or so later, on a much hotter day, and wouldn’t you know, their report was not a favorable one to the concept of climatisation.

So what’s the lesson here? Well, there is certainly a cultural difference between the French and the Americans’ feelings about air-conditioning – Example, my next door neighbor was about to throw out his perfectly fine rolling room A/C in the midst of the awful heat wave because “it took up too much space” and after sensing my astonishment at his intention, bequeathed it to me. Second, sometimes getting a breeze on the terrace, even from passing vehicles, is better than being stuck inside a room with no moving air. And lastly, ask if you must about A/C but even though the answer may be “Surely,” expect instead “Sort of.”

My favorites from the above:

Drouant
16-18, place Gaillon, 2nd (Metro: Quatre-Septembre)
T: 01.42.65.15.16
Open everyday
Plat de jour 20 €, Lunch Menu 45 €, Menu-carte 67 €.

Mon Vieil Ami
69 St Louis en l'Ile, 4th (Metro : Pont Marie)
T: 01.40.46.01.35
Closed Monday and Tuesday lunch
Menu 38 €.

Chez les Anges aka Les Anges
54, bd de Latour-Maubourg, 7th (Metro : Latour-Maubourg )
T: 01.47.05.89.86
Closed Saturday lunch and Sundays
Menu 35 €, a la carte around 45-50 €.

Ribouldingue
10, rue Saint Julien le Pauvre 5th (Metro : St Michel)
T: 01.46.33.98.80
Closed Sunday and Monday
Menu-carte 25 €, a la carte 30-35 €.

Jarrasse
4, ave Madrid in Neuilly (Metro: Pont de Neuilly)
T: 01.46.24.07.56
Open 7/7
Menu 38 € A la carte 40-80 €.

Fogon Saint-Julien
45, quai Grands Augustins, 6th (Metro: St Michel)
T : 01.43.54.31.33
Closed Mondays
Rice menu: 35 €, paella for two 36 €.

*Originally published in August 2006.

Fidelite in the 10th: Q. Can this place survive?

0.0 La Fidelite, 4, rue de la Fidelite in the 10th, 01.47.70.19.34, closed Sunday and Monday, supposedly with menus of 16-21 €, a la carte easily 45 € before beverages. My food God, Sebastien Demorand wrote it up in December for Le Fooding and raved about the direction, the “inspirational” food, the prices (21 at noon, 32 at night, with a Cahors at 25 and Saveurs Printanières de Binner at 23 €).

Something’s happened and it aint good. After getting locked out of Mon Oncle which only yesterday had assured me it would be open at 12h45

 

my friend and I scrambled to my “Plan B” - La Fidelite; I assured him that like Mon Oncle, it had been scouted and tested by folks better than we. After a brief journey, we arrived at what looked just like Les Zingots, except for a brilliant, wonderful neon sign outside and the traditional Costes (he informed me) mega-priapic pink Mickey Mouse inside.

The carte (there was no “menu” or “formule,” we asked) looked exceedingly ordinary, so much so that my pal suggested that we go back to my place and eat all the goodies I’d purchased for dinner and abandon “Plan B.” Smart man this guy.

But no, we stuck it out despite the fact that they were out of two items on the carte, had no wine list and the kitchen was closed for desserts. He ordered the one winner, beignets (made with tempura or phyllo dough) of tomato that were tart and simply delicious.

I had the mackerel rillettes, which he claimed were frozen but I thought were merely tired and poor product (the bread was good, as was the Illy coffee, give them their due). But then downhill: his entrecote couldn’t be saved by any amount of condiment and my daurade was (this time I agreed) frozen and poor product.

Outa there 69 € poorer.

 

Q. Can this place survive? A. No, not in that area, with those prices, with frigo food and no nothing. If this is what happens when you cross a Costes with a d'Isny, Lord help us.  Maybe it'll wind up like the Pompe Funebres above.

5.5 L'Opportun in the 13th: an archival* update.

I’m going to take a second Mulligan here and discuss our meal at L’Opportun in the 13th. The last time I ate there was during the Mad Cow Scare, where we were warned to avoid beef, so since 99% of the menu is bovine, I felt I had hardly tested the house.

This time, though, two of us went and we did. For starters we split the petis gris meurette which was spectacular and the endive salad with crisp duck skin and its underlying meat, equally good.

Then my guest had the tartare of beef and I had the veal kidneys, both perfectly prepared and accompanied by frites, which I found so-so.

We spied the Paris Brest go by, that was approximately the same size as the city of Brest, so we had no dessert.

Our bill was 117.80 € and it certainly goes on my “authentic Paris places” list.

* Originally published in July 2007.

Cafe Moderne: definitely better but not yet cured.

 

5.0 Cafe Moderne, 40 rue Notre Dame des Victoires, 2nd,01 53 40 84 10, closed Saturday noon and Sunday, menu at 30 E, a la carte 35-45, has gone through yet another transition, this by the team at Astier, importing a chef from the Crillon from the Dominique Bouchet era.  The interior, which always struck me as box-car modern, remains stunning:

 

This remains very much a businessman's place and was full, except for one table for six which I assume they were holding for a group.

The menu was not much different in price from the carte and features three starters (rougets, petit-gris, duck and pintade) and one plat (today a tendron of veal).  I liked the sound of it.

The rougets were just about the best I've ever had, fresh and beautifully sauteed in olive oil and somewhat complemented with sweet peppers and guacamole [true].  I was all set for a great meal, especially when the glass of 7 E St Emilion was so nice.

But the tendron of veal, while most ample, somehow wasn't what I wanted/needed; I know that's unfair, it's like criticizing someone for not writing the book you wanted.  But this was simply not like I like it - braised with a thick black red wine sauce - but instead sat atop chopped green and red cabbage with baby carrotson top of it.  And it didn't really have any kind of knock-out flavor, no matter salt and which accompaniments one used.

BTW - the service was mezzo-mezzo; fantastically friendly, extremely eager but dismayingly disorganized.  Oh, and the bread was not up to what their standards should be.

With another glass of that fine St Emilion (BTW they have about 50 wines selected by 5 folks, running from 25-80 E), a coffee, no bottled water or dessert, my bill was 47.50E.

Go again?  It's a cursed space and I wish him/them well, but with all the other options, I suspect not.

 

Monjul in the 4th: And now for something completely different.

 

4.5 Monjul, 28, rue des Blancs-Manteaux in the 4th, 01.42.74.40.15, closed Sunday dinner and Monday lunch, with lunch menus at 14 (2 courses) and 18 (3), Sunday brunch at 19 and a la carte 30 €, has been open for a year and a half.  It took me this long to go because Emmanuel Rubin gave it a one heart, but over the 18 months it's acquired more and more fans (notably Richard Hesse for whom it seems to be his favorite place)  and I keep seeing it everytime I get my hair cut across the street.

My downstair's neighbor and I went today and had an interesting meal; we entered and there was one customer, a situation that lasted until practically the end of the meal when two couples came in.  There was no amuse bouche as Hesse described but not to worry.

My friend ordered the two-course 14 € menu.  She seemed to like both the raviolis of potato and something else which came with an incredibly light emulsion of potato mousse as well as her salmon and potatoes two ways.

I had the same very crisp raviolis, almost like crispy dim sum, with a bit more cheese and ham than she inside but I also got an onion "soup" which was really more like onions slowly simmered in broth and a side of the same incredibly light emulsion.  Then I had several pieces of nicely cooked monkfish with sesame and some sticks of very spicy (hot) stuff.

We had no dessert and our bill with a bottle of Corbieres was 72 €.

Later, I actually did get my hair cut and and was talking to the barber asking if he'd been there and what he thought of its cuisine.  Yes, he said, and it was traditional French cooking.  I disagreed, saying it was fusion-esque Asian-oriented, etc., to which the other custumer piped up with - he's right (meaning me), it's not traditional French.  My dining partner agreed and posited that the reason it might have been weakly reviewed and empty is that the French "don't get it" (she's French.)  And maybe she's got a point; it's certainly closer to Ze Kitchen Galerie and Carte Blanche than Clocher Perriere or l'Epigramme.

Go?  As Monty Python used to imply: if you want something completely different.

Death of another friend: John Updike.

Things are getting creepy. First Johnnie Apple, then Sydney Pollack and now John Updike.

Back story: The Lampoon in the pre-Simpson pre-Conan days, consisted of several totally different groups of young men (all men in my day) who got along famously: the “funny” writers and cartoonists (heirs of Benchley and Punch), the serious writers (Charlie Flood, Updike), the business types (Sadri, the now Aga Khan, being the most notable,) the club-sters and some who straddled categories.

When I first knew him, Updike did puckishly wry but not thigh-slapping cartoons and prose pieces that were more sardonic than sophomoric. We suspected he’d survive but hardly thought he’d become our country’s best author.

Following this, I knew several Updikes; there was the young, utterly serious cartoonist, the starting to get omni-observant guy just back from Oxford who haunted the Lampoon “castle,” the semi-reclusive writer north of Boston and then the ebullient art critic whom I would run into at museums all along the East Coast and who like the Kennedys, never forgot a name or face.

He was an amazingly talented guy, whom we, just a few years behind, adored and tried to emulate, largely unsuccessfully. But beyond the talent was a truly perceptive social animal, who you genuinely felt wanted to know how you and your family were and were doing. Add to that that his writing, especially the Rabbit books, was of my and our generation and you had to be in love with the guy.

Le Figaro, a daily I usually agree with, called him a novelist of the American malaise; nothing could be farther from the truth. John Updike was and will remain America’s foremost mirror to one of its most interesting generations.

Bye, John, I’ll miss looking at you looking at paintings.

Oh my, I’ve ruined this place.

Oh my, I’ve ruined this place.

Recently when I left l’Epigramme, a place I’m really fond of and have written fondly about, I realized that many of the tables were full of very American looking couples who had all the appearances of the demographics of my readers and my heart sank; thinking “I’ve ruined this place.” I left sadder than when I entered.

Aside from the pure audacity and grandiosity of such a thought, I mean how could I, who get only a couple hundred hits a day, prompt a run of Anglo-Saxons on a new restaurant in Paris, I actually would be upset if my rave reviews brought about a “tilt” in the balance of clients in a place like l’Epigramme.

Why? What’s so wrong about Americans or others from the blogosphere who know about and love food and consult what’s hot on blogs of the big guys, such as Toinard and Simon or the little folk like me and websites such as eGullet and Bonjour Paris?

One of my eating pals gently ragged me one day for constantly praising Spring shortly after it opened, implying that I was raising expectations about Daniel Rose and potential clients. It was true, I was enthusiastic, perhaps too much so. But no, in retrospect, Spring and Rose have held up ever since and he just keeps turning out consistently good, solid meals.

And it’s also true that I keep plugging Ze Kitchen Galerie where William Ledeuil’s inventiveness and consistent excellence lure me back and back again.

I also have a notion that if one sees oneself as a journalist rather than a public relations agent, you are obliged to recount what you encounter, even if it’s boringly repetitive.

So again, once more discounting my self-inflated view of myself, I’ll soldier on, praising where praise is due and mentally grimace a little less when encountering a room full of Anglos and expats.

These thoughts were prompted by my thoughts at:
L’Epigramme
9, rue de L’Eperon, 6th (Metro: Odeon)
T: 01 44 41 00 09
Closed Sunday nights and Mondays,
Menu-carte: 28 €

Reviews of reviews: The Week of January 19th, 2009

Tuesday in Le Fooding, Marie Aline reviewed Thoumieux, coordinates given, where the ex-Crillion chef is cooking items such as pasta with ham and comté, œuf mayo, steak tartare, confit de canard, foie gras and a vegetable terrine, Landes chicken and fries for about 50 euros a person.

Tuesday as well, in ANP, Philippe Toinard sampled two places: the 4/5 Glou, coordinates above, where he lists a lot more dishes than the previous reviewers (Utah Beach oysters, fois gras pate, shrimp, poitrine of pork and yogurt) and the 2/5 Bistrot de l’Entrecote, ditto coords, where he also seems to like the lentil salad, pot au feu and beef tartare, fricassee of supions, duck, herring and potatoes, oeuf mayo and veal kidneys but not the over-salted pumpkin soup.

Tuesday in l’Express, Francois-Regis Gaudry called Glou, coordinates given before, not a “Table d'hôte? Bar à vin? Bistrot de charme?” but the best hideaway of the rentrée.”

Wednesday, Emmanuel Rubin in Figaroscope gave one heart to five places: Cristal Room Baccarat, coordinates well known, now under the direction of Guy Martin, costing 80-100 € for carrot soup, crab, entrecote and chocolate soufflé; the tea salon The Aux 3 Cerises in the 7th; the Slavic-Cossack-Georgian place Deda in the 1st; the sandwicherie Goutu in the 9th and D’Chez Eux, same address with a new chef who fixes snails, roast coquelet, duck confit and a mille-feuille.

Wednesday, Figaroscope’s “ Dossier” by Colette Monsat, Alexandra Michot & Sylvain Verut was all about business lunch places:
In the city
Itineraire
Café Moderne
Jadis
153 Grenelle
Le Cameleon
Fermin le Barbier
Nearby suburbs
Ducote Cuisine
Chartier
Barocco.

In his “Hache Menu,” Francois Simon reviewed l’Assiette, coordinates given, which cost 3 folks 137 € and he says he’ll revisit.

Wednesday, as well, Richard Hesse in Paris Update reviewed Chez Leon, (the one in the 8th), where he says it serves 1950’s café food like eggs mayo and pot au feu and does not rave about it.

Jean-Claude Ribault, in this Wednesday-Thursday’s Le Monde wrote about drunch at the MiniPalais now under the direction of the folks from l’Ami Louis with a single price (28 €) meal Sundays 6-11 PM with a soup or daily plate from the chalkboard, then salads, eggs, lox, cold meats, frites, veggies and desserts from the rolling cart.

Thursday in Le Point, Gilles Pudlowski said Benoît + La Closerie des Lilas, are in good shape and to follow Sers.

Saturday in his “Croque Notes” in Le Figaro, Francois Simon wrote about the Relais Plaza, a longer version of which is on his Simon Says blog. Also on his blog Tuesday, he called his meal at Epigramme impeccable. Ironically, Alexander Lobrano, Friday in his blog also lauded l’ Epigramme

Saturday/Sunday, in Bonjour Paris, John Talbott wrote an essay on “New Year, Old Friends.”