0.9 l’Oriental, 47, ave de Trudaine in the 9th, 01.42.64.39.80, open everyday, moved recently from across the great 9th/18th divide into Roseland country (PM me if you don’t get the ref). It was always one of my quick bite/local last nite in Paris/once the apartment was clean, places. Now, tho’, it seems huge and important, equipped with the same furniture but lacking charm, intimacy and most of all, good food.
So anyway, enough snide comments, what was the food like, John? It does indeed look much the same as when it won Pudlo’s 2006 best strange resto award; it’s double the size; and its customers, all French, high class Magrebian or elite neighborhood folk, are loud and packing it.
I started with the brick of veggies whose pastry envelope was extremely good and probably cardiologically-evil, but whose insides were lacking (a 6 let’s say: 10 for the crust, 1 for the insides).
Then I had the chicken tagine with confited lemon and olives; now, this is a dish I cannot master, but Colette has, albeit with a little help from Brooklyn. It was not much of a much (rating -2.)
The wine, a Boulauane that advertised itself as good to serve with sun-dishes such as pizza, curry and Tex-Mex, was serviceable.
The bill – ouch, but come on John, for two dishes and wine, stop complaining, 32.50 €.
Should one go? Asleep again eh?
*Originally published in June 2007.
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