Yes, yes, I know, I’m supposed to deal with books on food, etc., but there aren’t enough good ones out there.
However, this book of short stories, many published in Zoetrope:All-Story is about the best bunch of suchlike I’ve read since John Cheever’s and John Updike’s.
Short stories are not short long stories nor easy to toss off, but Fountain makes the craft look easy.
A great book; buy it, read it.
April 2009
April 29, 2009
TAG, Force de l’Art + Cache at the Grand Palais.
TAG, Force de l’Art + Cache at the Grand Palais.
Q. “You did all that in one afternoon.”
A. “Yes, it’s called by some wags, ‘Talbottizing’ an exhibit.”
Let’s dispose (so to speak) of the TAG show which is about tagging, ie graffiti. I knew Taki 183 and this is no Taki. Well, it is sort of, lacquered, sanitized, uniformly presented, and “art” rather than the urban visual pollution it was on the IRT in it’s heydays. Interesting, I supposed if you’ve lived in a convent since 1950. It closes soon.
The Force de l’Art show in the big part of the Big Palace has huge works by some 36 “artists.” It calls itself a triennale which I fear means that like the Whitney biennale, we’re stuck with repetitions of it for decades. I left after seeing 8 colored shopping sacs on the floor full of hot-air, since that seemed to sum the whole thing up. This too, mercifully, closes soon.
Philistine and masochist that I am, I then went to the show called “Une image peut en cacher une autre” which I think is a joking reference to the warning signs before French train crossings “Un train peut en cacher un autre.” It actually wasn’t half-bad, once you realized that Durer’s rocks weren’t really “hiding” things the same way as Daumier’s political caricatures - but that the curator was showing you the many ways that artists fiddle around with images. While Dali is the sort of anchor for this show and concept, the omission of some folk, like Magritte, was puzzling. I must say that I liked the modern stuff in the last room best, especially Markus Raetz’s metal letters that spell Ceci from the left and Cela in the mirror.
I’d say go – until July 6th.
Le Marcab in the 15th: I came with a prejudice and was pleasantly surprised.
6.2 Le Marcab, 225, rue de Vaugirard in the 15th, 01.43.06.51.66, open 7/7, has a confusing set of menus for 16, 25 and 35 € and a englassed list of wines by the glass as well as a printed list by the bottle. From the outside it looked swank and inside swanker and the website and wallpaper are scary.
But the folks and food are anything but. The chef, Yann Le Port, looks about 12 and he and the waitstaff were most charming.
That gets most of my prejudices out: open 7/7 (unh unh), many menus (whas’this?), weird wallpaper; oh, and only one review that I’d seen, that by Emmanuel Rubin of only 2 hearts, although today he gave it a 6.5/10 in his Spring finds, the equivalent of Frenchie, Barbezingue + Petit Champerret which I really like.
In any case I went with a far-from-snooty friend from snooty Cambridge and we loved it. We decided to order one 16 € 3-course and one 25 € 4-course menu and shared a lot.
The firsts were a vichyssoise with lox and foie gras (fantastic) and raviolis of asparagus with lentin du chêne mushrooms (equally). Then came another hot first, a filet of rouget with a (I swear) parmesan sauce and smashed potatoes that were divine.
Our mains were a beautifully cooked ample piece of cod with a thick tomato Provencal sauce/condiment and a piece of veal (overcooked for me but I wasn’t asked) with incredible thinly sliced spring veggies and a puzzling (wild thyme) topping.
Desserts were a great strawberry and rhubarb crumble with a delicious “crumble": and a sort of apple napoleon. Coffee came with lukewarm tiny chocolate moelleux’s.
With one apero, a bottle of wine, the two menus, coffee and no bottled water, our bill was an astonishing 69.40 €.
Go? Trust me not the warning signs; yes.
April 28, 2009
William Blake and Mt Athos at the Petit Palais.
When in college I took a course where I spent many wonderful weeks on Blake’s poetry and it wasn’t until about 20 years later than I learned that he was probably more prolific as an engraver, painter, watercolorist, etcher and illuminator than writer/poet. This show has it all and for a comprehensive review of his artistic breadth it is humbling. It closes June 28th.
The second or other show at the PP consists of 180 items from the all-male, isolated monasteries of Mt Athos. Even if one goes to Mt Athos you cannot see all that’s displayed here and despite the crowds outside it was not bad inside. It’s open until July 5th.
Nominoë in the 4th: And, now, for something completely different.
5.0* Nominoë, 13 rue Castex in the 4th, 01.42.72.95.35, closed Sundays, with apologies to Monty Python, is truly “something completely different.” It is small (12 counter stools and 8 seats), 100% Breton, except for the coffee, and features only a few dishes but all from producers whom the owner knows.
Since I arrived early he offered me a Breton aperitif, a pommeau, that was perfect.
My friend and I each started with three oysters from the owner’s brother-in-law Mr J.J. Bescond of Beg ar Vill, that were eaten without lemon, etc, just good bread and good Breton butter.
Then my friend had smoked andouille with smashed potatoes (with herbs) and a mixed salad and I had the chalkboard special - chicken with a terrific spicy Concarneau cider sauce, tagliatelles and a similar salad.
We finished with two portions of nice far with a caramel sauce.
With this we tried two Coreff beers, a stout that wasn’t like the stout we’re used to and a bitter like beer that was.
My friend spirited off the bill but I think I saw that it was 57.30 €, a very fair sum. As we were saying goodbye the host showed us two whiskeys that were Breton as well.
Go? Well not as a destination or if you need chairs and tablecloths, *but for a nice simple Breton meal, sure!
April 27, 2009
Андрій Варгола (Andy Warhol) at the Grand Palais. A minor ouch.
Well, let’s get to the heart of the matter; poor Andy was a one-trick pony who fooled the world and the intelligensia into thinking he was an artist not just a fright-wigged weird dude with goofy friends and celebrity connections.
There are some retrospectives that show an artist’s life work in such away as to open your mind; I’m thinking of the original Kandinsky show at the Guggenheim or the de Chirico show now at the Palais de Tokyo; and there are others where it is obvious the person, once finished school or an academy sticks to one style, groove, theme; here I think of Sisley, all that seeing the Sisley show at the Orsay convinced me was that if you’ve seen one Sisley you’ve seen ‘em all, Spiro T!
Now we can’t all be Picasso, and maybe Rembrandt could be charged with a static style, but viewing hundreds of these screen-style pieces by Warhol led to no new ideas, feelings or conclusions except that we’ve been had by a very clever media manipulator.
Go? Well, as my luncheon friend said “I want to see them all together.” OK. But I think it's a scam.
Le Bistro Volnay in the 2nd: Fine for businessmen but just not exciting.
5.0 Le Bistro Volnay [sic], 8, rue Volney [sic] in the 2nd, 01.42.61.06.65, closed weekends, was described as an old place chef’d by a new guy who comes from Chez Michel (of course, you never know at what level or for how long) but it sounded interesting enough to try with an old friend, indeed my oldest continuous French friend.
I approached the place with trepidation, whoa,.... next to the Park Hyatt, fancy entry, all suits and ties and all men, most (around us) speaking English, an imposing menu, with hefty supplements for anything not on the “menu.” The waitladies were described by Philippe Toinard enticingly and they were indeed most welcoming.
There is a 24 € 3 course meal to be had at the counter that my pal briefly considered but we had a lot of catching up to do that such seating would make talking awkward. So we both had the 3 course lunch menu at 38 €.
She started with razor clams in butter and I with a fine salmon tartare with a great assortment of fresh herbs on top.
Then she had lamb chops that were not really as tasty as they should be at this time of year and I had a veal stew with spring veggies in a cocotte that was good but not great either.
She had a clafoutis of apples, quite unusual and good and I an equally good chocolate cake, both with ices that were OK.
Our bill with 2 Illy coffees, a bottle of wine and no bottled water was 98 €.
Go? After the other places I’ve been hitting this year, I really cannot recommend you rush to it. There was nothing wrong, just nothing really great.
April 26, 2009
MacBeth at the Opera Bastille: maybe a first for both of us!
This is the first musical review I’ve done, so go easy folks (the program above is blurred so I don't get copyright suits).
After lunch today, I ambled, well, walked fast, over to the Opera Bastille where I knew Macbeth, one on my faves, was playing. I knew when it began and I thought that if I was done my lunch in proper time without being rude, I’d get there in time. Well, I did, sort of.
I was aiming for the 5 € standing room sold 15 minutes before (where, at the old 39th St. Met, I’d met Colette, 50 years ago (holy cow, I gotta come up with a golden idea soon, oh that’s easy, a guy dropped a nice gold ring on the sidewalk today) but they had sold out, so I was directed (very nicely) to the box office aka the Group W bench, where 10 folk were in line and no one was moving; a tux’d guy comes up to me and asks, “are you a senior perhaps?”; very civilized, well, I guess, over here; jump the line (love it when I jump the line on the premier line-jumpers on the globe) – at this point even my youngest grandchild starts to drift away – get to the point G-pa.
Ok so I paid 20 € more than I expected to but was in the 12th row center besides a gorgeous lady with a short dress. In any case, I’d read that it was done in contemporary dress, etc., and sometimes I think this works, Seller’s in particular, seems to be able to do opera a la moderne (well, he’s a Haavahd guy), but it’s not assured, as the Metro announcements tell you. So I was primed to walk out if I hated the production.
The obligatory announcement was made, M. Blah is indisposed - Oh no – but Madame Blech will substitute – Ahhhh. Well she was a real fatty, but the rest of the cast does Pilates, eats well and is dressed like Scots dudes and dudesses today do; ties, suits, elegant dresses - cool.
The singing was pretty good, not Leopoldine Rysanek and Leonard Warenoff, circa 1959, but OK. But, but, but, the changes of scenes (Google-Earth-type images), sets (futuristic blocky) and the finale – when bombs burst in air and mortars came through the scenery – was every 11 year old boy’s dream.
Worth the price of admission and the distraction of the lady’s thighs.
Was there nothing wrong? Well, the conductor, one Teodor Currentzis, hails from Novossibirsk, Siberia, whose company is the co-producer and it’s gotta be really cold and out of touch up there because his garb and hair were stuck in Peter Serkin 1960-land. And, he learned conducting from watching tapes of Louis Bernstein and Roberto Remigio Benigni.
Go? Yes, but if you want to really get a cheap high, sneak in 15 minutes from the end just to see the walls come tumbling down.
John Talbott
I was surely born in France of a chef father and food critic mother.
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