Coincident with the purchase (in part by patrons like moi-meme) by and showing of Cranach the Elder's "Three Graces" at the Louvre until April 4th there is a blockbuster Cranach show at the Luxembourg Museum adjacent to the Senate. What a draftsman and painter. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
2 wows - showing until 23 May.
6.0 Le Ribouldingue, 10, rue, St-Julien le Pauvre in the 5th, 01.46.33.98.80, closed Sundays and Mondays is a niche restaurant (abats) open since 2006. I'd read the other day in the JDD, that the cooking was "miraculous" under the new chef who's been here for over a year - well, it slipped by me - one more French-French place with a Japanese cook,
It looks unchanged outside and in and to my recall the menu is the same (except there's no longer that astoundingly priced [12 E] wine on the wine list.)
My gastro-friend V. ordered "simply" he insisted, first a galette of pigs' ears and salad that Astrid T'Serclaes had called unforgettable - quite good - and I had the same thing I had when it opened, succulent sweetbreads on top of potatoes with whole capers and garlic.
Then he ordered the tete de veau with gribiche sauce and I had (again what I did in 2006), the veal kidneys with potatoes dauphinoise - both delicious.
As a finale, he had wedges of grapefruit in an Gentian/Campari herbal jelly that one might call miraculous and I had a better-than-usual quenelle of dark chocolate with ice cream.
Our bill with a bottle of bottled water and bottle of the the Breton's best Bourgeuil and two coffees was 111 E.
Go? Yes indeed.
I recall I'd seen another Dogon exhibition a few years ago in Paris - was it at the Porte Doree or the Dapper? - no matter, I was walking by the Branly and saw the poster advertising the Dogon show and went in and up that endless, mindless, purposeless wavy staircase/thing to the exhibition space(s) thinking - "who needs this?" "Just give me a box with off-white walls like the Pinacotheque where I can see stuff not have an architectural happening." "Why do architects think we want to see their brilliance not that of the artists shown within?" I realized I was a week or two early for the Dogon and bailed out.
Across the charming bridge to the other side and the Mona Bismarck where a beautiful exhibition of Courbet landscapes (with a couple of erotic sketches thown in for us old letchers) is showing until June 4th. What a difference from the Branly - the art not the ego was the point.
2 Wows for Courbet; several groans for Jean Nouvel and a sigh for our ex-Mayor and ex-President who so wanted the Branly museum to carry his name - maybe once he finishes his probable sentence he'll be rehabilitated Alain Juppe style.
Lest this confirm my membership in the Neanderthal Club let me say I do think Frank Gerhy melded ego and art-showing in Bilboa as did FL Wright in Guggie #1.
5.3 FL Restaurant, 1 bis, rue Augereau in the 7th, 01.45.51.06.04, closed Sundays and Monday lunches, is the second resto run by a Picardian in two days and I asked the chef if this was some sort of new wave - no, merely "a coincidence." Maybe. But these guys know how to cook.
The place, at first reminded me of La Gaigne, 20 covers, chef and lady (his I presume) or Sensing, with the mirrors and shelves of objects and books, but on closer inspection I saw the titles: Guerard, Mere Brazier, Brillat-Savarin and, wow, Sophie Brissaud (whose heart I learned I was breaking at that very moment. But that's another story.)
I was scheduled to eat with two women who go back to my Fulbright-connected days in Denmark, but they got diverted to Amsterdam so I was on my own. Ok. Order what seems interesting on a most ambitious menu (the "menu", BTW was 22 E for 3 dishes and 16 E for 2, quite a deal for the students in the quarter). I chose the Ficelle Picarde, which was a block/millefeuille of layers of crepes, ham and cheese - quite divine and light and perfect with the lambs' tears dressed right on.
My main course was sliced lamb cooked a la plancha (a first) with Soissons beans (ditto I think) and a nice sauce. I was wary of lamb cooked a la plancha but the guy knew how to crisp it and then pull it off before it got tough or overdone.
Dessert was/were very nice slices of pineapple with a coconut ice cream.
Any burp here? Yes. The bread for a resto in such a golden triangle (between the Rue de Grenelle, St Dominique, in full Christian Constantville, etc.,) was not up to community standards as they say in medical malpractice cases.
The bill, with wine (they have demi-carafes for 15E, thus a student couple can have a first-rate 3-course 7th Arr. meal here [I'm talking to you, American University of Paris parents] with wine for 59 E) and coffee - was, in my case, a la carte about the same for one as the "menu" for two.
Go? Here for once in my life, the decor matched the excellent quality of the food rather than covering it or detracting from it.
5.9 Le Bistro des Gastronomes, 10, rue Cardinal Lemoine, 01.43.54.62.40, open 7/7, Sundays and Mondays, is a place a reader (Allesandra) tipped me to after she'd read my essay on finding a "Good Neighborhood Restaurant." It certainly is that and more.
Its chef/owner is a Picardian, Cedric Lefevre, who trained with some of the best folk around, including Christian Constant and it's been open just over a year, unbeknownst to the big boys. The wait-guy was super-friendly and as soon as he heard my dining partner and I talking, swtched effortlessly to unaccented English. They have a menu-carte at 35 E that has all the things one could want.
The generous amuse-bouche was a cream of white asparagus soup the likes and tastes of which I've never seen before; simply delicious.
My partner had the fine pate de campagne and I had the croustillants of scallops which funnily enough were the best I've had of this dish since Caroline Rostang decamped and her magnificent Bistro Cote Mer just around the corner fell into enemy hands.
For mains, he chose the wild daurade and I the sweetbreads on tao-ist (I kept thinking, how cool - the only thing I retained from my college course on Comparative Religion was that the way of the Tao was to float effortlessly like a leaf down the river - I surely didn't put up any resistance). Both were excellent products, excellently cooked and expertly plated.
We both had the "lemon pie" for dessert; at that point, despite how good it was, I could not do justice to it, but my friend neatly polished it off.
Any problems? Well, yes, actually. They were out of the first few wines my friend chose (due to a big party Saturday night) and others were fairly pricy - that's something they need to revise [PS per David Berger below their wine list s now up to snuff].
The bill, as a result, was 115 E, which is a bit much for a "Good Neighborhood Restaurant." BTW the excellent bread was from Kayser and the coffee was pretty good as well.
Go (with Colette?) It's on the list; I'll be back. Thanks Allesandra.
6.1. Le Petit Colbert, 8, rue Monsigny in the 2nd, 01.40.20.42.16 open 7/7, is the younger sibling (I think) of the Grand Colbert (at least the senior waiter came from there, recounted my dining partner).
It looks like a thousand other places and could be a movie set replica of the bistros we frequented in the late '60's and early '70's except on closer inspection the lamps are shiny and new as are the table settings. The menu is classic, comfort food and the critics have been widely divided. Solution: go with a top-notch chef and see who's right.
2 dishes (at lunch) are 22E and 3 are 28E and the choices on and off the "menu" are wonderfully comprehensive; including a big shellfish selection. My partner chose the terrine of ecrevisses and veggies that was nice but I thought my lentils topped with perfectly crisped bacon bits a la a salad frisee exceeded standard.
Then he had a fine pepper-steak (ordered saignant but still edible by me) and I the confit de canard, excellently prepared; the only off-notes were the potatoes that I considered so-so, but then I'm no judge.
For dessert he had the profiteroles (which I would never order, I dunno why, and which he seemed not too enthusiastic about) but my chestnut creme (brullee-type thing) was the perfect end to a perfectly simple meal. The bill with a nice bottle of wine and no coffees (for that we went to the nifty place on the rue St Roch) or bottled water was 98.50E which he picked up after I protested and rolled on the floor a bit - woosh - as Renault said in Casablanca "Another precedent gone....."
Go? You bet. As the meal ended, I realized, this is the food I really like; honest, gutsy, yah fatty, but down-to-earth stuff, not frou-frou, etherial, fluffed essences. It's in the L'Ami Louis (just a bistro, Ma'am) tradition at 1/4th the price. And, they have a room upstairs large enough to have a big private party.
6.0 (but really unique) La Maison David, 6, rue des Ecouffes in the 4th, 01.42.78.15.76, closed Mondays, Fridays and Saturdays, open other days 1-3 PM and at night for private parties of up to 8, is one-of (I refuse to write one-off, it's not "off" it's "of"); the closest I can come to explaining what it's like is to say that it's sort of a cross between standing at Yves Camdeborde's L'Avant-Comptoir at Le Comptoir du Relais and sitting on a stool at DB (Dominique Bouchet's) counter.
Backstory: How I wound up standing for two hours eating kosher meat and drinking Israeli wine and loving every moment of it. Well, like everyone else, I read Le Fooding this week and liked the sound of a place that was a butcher-shop, charcuterie-making-place and deli all wrapped up into one and open for Sunday lunch. Louis Daboussy's review said one ate at the deli counter itself and even showed a photo but also said "reservation imperative au dejeuner;" hummm - need a rez to stand?
OK. I arrive and my dining partner meets me on the street chock-full of holiday (Purim) folks; she's already been inside, chatted up the chef/butcher/charcuterie-maker's wife, says it's funny, charming but like nowhere else we've ever eaten. Did I "still want to go?" Why not?
Now get the scene. A tiny place, a short plexiglass counter with all sorts of meats and herring and gravlax, no room to stand even two-deep, 4-5 spots on which to set a piece of coldcut, a glass of wine or a plate; Mr the omni-potentate (double boarded in charcuterie-making (a Master, warranting a red not blue sign, in the window) and butchery (Artisan)) working the counter, grinder and slicer and Mrs the chat'emup hostess and wine/drinks selector/provider working at the end.
Menu simple: 6 types of charcuterie (from Lodz to Krakow), three choices of meat (2 cooked and 1 tartare) and a dessert of the day (today fresh strawberries).
Madame orders the Lodz tongue and I the Pikel and smoked Pastrami - "How did I want it?" "European cold or American warm?" "They're totally different tasting." "Hummmm" "1/2 and 1/2." "OK."
Now I've left out an essential to this tale; before during and after serving(s), he's slicing, spooning and dishing up stuff for the 4-6 folks at the counter, announcing each from the pictured coarsely chopped chicken-liver (like I've never had so good at any bar mitzvah), goose rillettes and slices of green and black pepper, dry and moist sausage. The latter, ten minutes after I stopped eating, suddenly kicked in and I said, "Wait a minute, what was that sausage with black pepper, suddenly it took off?" And M. Kalifa smiles and says, "I watched your face when you ate it and it didn't move - it takes that long for the taste to arrive, doesn't it?"
We spend a long time discussing what to have as our main(s) and then, when the talkative Mrs convinced us both to have the entrecote, Mr hauls two slabs out of the display case and says to me - "Which one Mr. Talbott?" (Not adding "wise guy" - thanks God.) I point/say "the one with more fat." "Bingo." Correct answer.
"I'll cook it like you've never had before." And indeed it was. Simple, tasty, melt in your mouth although as he explained, when it's cooked so blue, it requires a butcher's knife to cut, which he eagerly provided me.
At this point, it's only the two of us dining and Mr and Mrs Kalifa. Looking me straight in the eyes he says "So now, Mr. Talbott, what grade do you give the beef." No fudging here, no evasion, no lying. "A 7-8," say I. "Ah, ha," he replies,"it's the most expensive cut I've got, for a 10, I'd have to order the Japanese/Australian Kobe-type stuff that costs 1000E/kilo, minimum purchase 10 kilos." Ouch, luckily I'm not fond of Kobe beef.
Dessert, no, but my partner had a mint tea and with two 1/2 bottles of reasonably priced wine (the full ones were beyond our price point but they're ordering in new stuff since Le Fooding, David Sax's book and website "Save the Deli" and Alain Ducasse have all publicized him), all the snacking and all the above plus a few slices of zucchini, potato, lettuce and onion relish cost all of 79.90 E a couple.
Go? If you're two, don't mind standing, chatting and stuffing yourself with great meat - be my guest!
Jean-Louis Forain lived from 1852 to 1931 and knew or saw all the great artists of that period. That's apparent from start to finish of this show of over 200 of his works on paper, paintings and even one stained-glass piece. The texts say this was satirical work that appeared in among other publications Le Figaro and the New York Herald, I saw them not so much mocking the bourgoisie as reflecting it.
While I have problems with someone like Zelda Fitzgerald who imitated Maurice Prendergast sheep-like or George Sisley, where once you've seen one - a la Spiro T. Agnew - you've "seen 'em all," Forain certainly was influenced by Degas, Daumier and Toulouse-Lautrec, among others, but, again, I felt he was reflective not imitative. And vs Sisley, if you've seen one Forain at the Courtauld or Brooklyn or National, you've seen one.
2 Wows: in my book the most under-rated show of the year.
I was surely born in France of a chef father and food critic mother.
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