5.5 Les Copains comme Cochons, 156 Ave Ledru Rollin in the 11th, was the Cru Rollin until January when the proprietaire changed but the chef did not, thus in the recent reviews it is so listed and as I walked by, I had second thoughts, because I had neither an electronic device nor the address, since I thought I knew where it was and was travelling light to Geneva, but a very nice lady in a nearby hotel (the Grand Hotel Nouvel Opéra) reasssured me.
Outside, inside and on the counter is evidence that they serve serious meat here. So, hey, I started seriously with shaved, deeply sauteed slices of gizzards with potatoes and a salad with a super dressing. Ah comfort food as my friend Allen says.
Then I ordered more meat - a magret, cooked (as you can see) to my perfection, under, under, under-cooked with a wine sauce and a ton of veggies which despite the advice of Colette, the Surgeon General and my cardiologist I could not finish. Because, because, I wanted dessert (on the 20 E menu; that's right). In fact it was what John Whiting calls "a better standard of ordinariness."
OK, I looked at the dessert offerings and saw the "dessert of Miss Peggy," I kid you not; so dumb me I ask, "who is Miss Peggy," thinking it's the comely wench in the chef outfit (oh, is this going to get me into bigtime trouble with the feminists, starting with my lovely wife), "Miss Piggy" sez the waitperson, "Ah, I think I understand," but I do not. It arrives, this center of chocolate with nuts, surrounded by pink sugar with a piggy face and a creme anglaise (my teeth hurt with all that sugar but my dentist doesn't read this blog, so, hey.)
The bill with a carafe of wine, a complementary (fake-bottomed) glass of digestif, a coffee, alright bread and fine, fine service in all senses of the word was 37 E.
Go? OK, I wanted a new place near the Gare de Lyon and having exhausted Rino, Shan Gout, Entre Les Vignes, etc., chose this; advising you, I'd say go to them in the order I gave first, but.... it is indeed "a better standard of ordinariness."
Addendum: Ever seen served in Paris Cola with Scotch? My goodness, me neither.
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