John Talbott's Paris

Le Faitout* in the 19th: What was it my father said, "yah gets what yah pays for." Mom "Be nice."

-0.2 Le Faitout*, 23 rue Simon-Bolivar in the 19th, 01.42.08.07.09, closed Mondays (Metro: ah, maybe Pyrenees, #26 bus better) was a place I had on my list, I admit it, I confess, it was there, right there on he list and I will not blame my fellow blogger Aude Baron for putting it into my pigeon brain.  When I was stretched to come up with a place in the 19th where an impressive new pastry chef worked that she could get to during her lunch break and after my first idea fell thru (ever heard of a place open every night but only lunches on weekends?), I came back to Le Faitout*, so John, what's this asterisk stuff all aboit, some Roger Maris* thing?  Minute papillon.

 
I enter gasping for breath exactly on time (I knew she had only a 1.15 hour break) and survey the surround; it's a dump, really a dump, what have I done?  The banquette seat is patched with duck-tape (which stops the spring inside from pronging you where you haven't asked to be pronged), the toilet has no seat and they bring water in a wine bottle without being asked.  At this point, my friend Greg, would whisper or maybe even shout "RUN AWAY!"  Ah, but I didn't.

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I've quoted my father, who frequently said "yah gets what yah pays for" but my mother would reiterate time and again that "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."  It was that sort of a childhood that leads to this sorry story.  So I'll be nice.

I ordered "defensively," that is, things that even a crappy hash house couldn't screw up. First, frogs' legs provencale, a no-brainer except that they were on the border between tasteless and inedible (Dad "you dumb jerk" said fondly, trust me; Mom "the chopped cooked tomatoes were very nice," which they were, indeed they were outstanding).  And then I recalled last night Channel 2 piece on the fact that almost 100% of what's served in restos comes sous-vide or frozen or dessicated from emporia like Metro.

Madame had an enormous salad with a block of chevre/courgettes lasagna that she did her best to have half of.  And I had the priciest piece of beef on the menu with a supposed Sechuan pepper sauce (1.5 E and 1.0 E more than the others offered), ordered "BLU" - (My father - "Ach du lieber" aka "you got yourself into this;" my mother "Oh Johnnie, aren't the fresh, uncooked, nicely sliced vegetables tasty and gratinated potatoes superb?,"  which I must admit they were.  End result; I schlepped 98.5% of the beef out the door into the poubelle after eating my veggies.

Dessert?  Are you kidding?; sorry Mom, "Thank you, the tomatoes, carrots, squash and other vegetables were wonderful."  Iowan Dad: "Well, it was beef, beef can't be bad unless it was from Nebraska."

The bill, with a bottle of quite decent wine of the moment, awful bread, so-so coffee and indifferent if not sullen service by a waitperson sporting the name of either her lover or self in technicolor in half-view, was 55.50 E; ah Dad, you were right "yah gets what yah pays for."

Go?  I'm the parent and grandparent and even the "decider" now and I say "no way."

*Faitout means stewpot, appropriate? I dunno'.

Cooking what you did 55 years ago.

I recently ate at a place where the chef seemed to be cooking the same way he did when he started cooking over 55 years ago. It was not even charmingly ancien, just tired ancien.

In one of my futile attempts to learn French (David Sedaris of "Me Talk Pretty Someday" has nothing on me) I got into a heated discussion with a much younger French teacher who was trying to stimulate us to speak more French and launched a discussion about new monuments in Paris. The latent Prince Charles in me rose to the surface and I said I thought the Pei pyramid was a disaster that wrecked the Louvre, the Grande Arche a horror that ruined the grand alley from the Champs-Elysees, and the Tour Montparnasse a monstrosity that ruined the sky. “What do you want” he said “Paris to remain a museum?” “Exactly” I replied.

And sometimes the museums of restaurants or cooking from old times are wonderful. From the original Chez Catherine on the Rue de Provence, where the Colvert duck and the sautéed foie gras entier might have come from 1950 to Guillaume Delage’s Jadis, where a young guy cooks old recipes, you revel in the familiar, yet fresh.

I think the Italians carry it off best. I recall going with Colette to two places along the French border, the first the Maison de Filippo in Courmayeur just through the Mont Blanc tunnel, where the mounds of bread and charcuterie were Medieval and then after two weeks in the Piedmont and Lakes winding our way up for our last meal in the ski resort of Sauze d’Ouix off-season where the lady chef came out and asked how we liked our lamb (that was it, no choices) and her husband asked “Red or White?” On that same trip we went with Italian friends to a Mom & Pop trattoria in the old city part of Bologna where Mama made the sauces the same way for 60 years, taught by her mother and grandmother. And it all was wonderful.

Now as the world knows, at least those who read the New York Times Magazine, the center of gravity of post-modern cuisine has moved to Las Roses in Spain and I would maintain that at present it’s poised between the cities of Girona/Barcelona and Bilbao, where some of the most exciting cooking imaginable is happening.

I often ask myself, how can such consistently amazing new dishes come out of an unknown kitchen in Northern Spain prepared by chefs I’ve never heard of compared to the often-disappointing meals the innovation-driven media-lauded well-known French chefs like Loiseau, Aizpitarte and Marx give/gave you? Are the French guys trying too hard to be new, are the Spaniards more Mediterranean and laid back? I don’t honestly know.

Do you remember the first meal you had in France in 1953? Of course you don’t, you weren’t born then. But I do, and it was a marvel. Simple, good product, sautéed, flavorful with an oomph that left you satisfied without stuffing yourself. The first vine-ripened tomato I bit into, the first Camembert I savored, the first Vouvray I sipped, it was all there.

And sometimes today, the old stuff a la Catherine, is just right and sometimes like my tired chef’s, it too is just tired. So as the Lone Ranger show’s announcer used to say “Let’s return to those thrilling days of yesteryear,” but only when they’re thrilling not washed-out.

For such, return to:
Jadis
208, rue de la Croix-Nivert, 15th, (Metro: Felix Faure)
T: 01.45.57.73.20
Closed Saturday lunch and Sundays
Menu-carte 32 €

 

Agapé Substance in the 6th: Wow....wow....wow....wow!

 
8.0 Agapé Substance, 66 Rue Mazarine in the 6th, 01.43.29.33.83 (Metro:Odeon) closed Sundays and Mondays, has lunch "menus" at 39, 51 and 65 E; dinner 51, 78 and 99 E.  It opened earlier this summer and has been called "magical, fascinating and brilliant" so far.  Now, I must confess that I've found the Agapé Empire's two places to date too precious, too perfect, too too, you get the picture, and the pretentious explanations of the wines and the super-pretentious sampling and thus stealing some of my wine and the ultra-pretentious decanting of the wine into designer-carafes are off-putting.  But my good friend,the most saavy writer/cook/TV creator in Paris, wanted to go.  So be it.

Achtung/Warning/Attention: This is not the place for my pal J. who wants big portions, nor someone "allergic" to strange herbs, nor for those in fear of the new.  Like at Spring, one can expect nothing (forget the critics' descriptions, this 30 yo genius changes stuff all the time); like at Ze, expect stuff you've never heard of before, such as berce (aka hogweed), and like at Les Petits Plats, expect small plates.

The first trick is to find the place, hidden as it is, like "The Purloined Letter," in full view on the Rue Mazarine, like Frenchie in the old days, the second trick (like at Le Dauphin) is to find the door and the third trick is figuring out the wooden carte which lists 9 items, ranging from a crab soup to cheese but which one can have - seeming appetizers, seeming fish, seeming meat, seeming veggies, seeming desserts - in any ordered desired - I'll explain in a moment.  The most transparent thing is the wine list on an iPad (hang in there Steve Jobs, you've got at least 2 products left to roll out, we need you)  which is ultracool.  But as a saavy lady at an upscale food boutique commented to me later that afternoon, the prices are largely astronomic.  For example, my eating partner had a tiny coupe de champagne at 19 E, and her bottled water was 8 E).  But onto the food.

 

After some absolutely fabulous bread with the now ordinary butter with algae we got the amuse bouche that consisted of two lighter-than-air balls made from the aforementioned berce (hogweed), clementine and a glob or is it blob of citrus stuff, topped with a light rice wafer.  Wow!  Off to a good start.

 

 

 

 

 
Madame started off with a soup of so many ingredients I did not have time to write them down but the four mini-towers in the soup were of delicate crab, and I had rougets with a baby artichoke, we both then had incredible pieces of pigeon and she then had green beans with miso and smoked salmon; but they put down a plate in front of me so I wouldn't feel left out.  Do I know what it was?  Not on your life or mine but there was ice cream.

 

 

 

For our other desserts Madame had a strip of fruits with ginger and a sorbet and I had chocolate from two countries, made two ways, with two textures.

Our bill, now here's a problem, knowing my readership, if I tell you the total you'll never go, so let me say that ordering sensibly without expensive bubbly, water or extra dishes one can get out for 110 E a couple which is pretty darn good.

Go?  Wow....wow....wow....wow!

A final note: I said yesterday that their toilet was the best; but today's was awesome; like an airpane cockpit (photo courtesy of Ptipois).

 

The Weeks of August 2011

Tuesday, August 2nd in Le Fooding, Gilles Dupuis reviewed l’Auberge de 5 Chemins in Le Bourg (Valette), Tuesday August 16, Julie Gerbert reviewed Folia in Montpellier and Tuesday Aug 23rd, Louis Daboussy reviewed the Restaurant Chatomat, 6, rue Victor Letalle in the 20th, 47 97 25 77, open evenings only, closed Mondays and Tuesdays, costing 36-50 E and August 30th Marie-Odile Briet reviewed Restaurant The Sylmarin Lille.
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Wednesday, August 7th, in Le Figaroscope’s cultural bulletin, the editors referred to a 2 heart restaurant, Le Café de la Nouvelle Marie, [which is hardly new] and a link to an article published August 7th entitled “J’ai deux mots a te dire…” by Colette Monsat, Alexandra Michot, and Francois Simon recommending the following for special occasions [puns theirs]:
If you’re getting married:
L’Hotel Amour
Café de la Nouvelle Mairie
La Fidelite
Maison de the Mariage Freres
Becoming a Dad:
Hier & Aujourd’hui
Chez Casimir
Pousette Café
Café de la Boutique Bonpoint
If sent North:
Terminus Nord
Chez Flottes
Les Petites Sorcieres
Graindorge
You’re leaving:
Senderens
Jadis
Baratin
Pile ou Face
L’Entre 2 Rives
Le Daniel
Your Rich Aunt Tillie died:
Dolce Chantilly
Au Petit Suisse
Chez La Vielle
Quedubon
You won the lottery:
Le Cinq
Le 1728
Cristal Room Baccarat
La Tour d’Argent

Of note is a series in the Figaro Madame by the food folks on foreign cuisine that covered: Spain (Emmanuel Rubin) on July 27th, the US (Francois Simon) July 30th, Italy (F.S.) on Aug 2nd, Japan (F.S.) Aug 4th, Morocco (E.R.) Aug 7th, Greece (E.R.) Aug 10th.

 

Dated August 10th, in Le Figaroscope’s l’Actualite Culturelle, a reader signing in as sanjen wrote up the new resto in the Opera Garnier: L'Opéra Restaurant, which just opened, praising everything but the food which had no taste, be it trout, cod, steak or lamb.

August 30th, A Nous Paris returned to the Metro with two reviews of places that opened over the summer: Jerome Berger gave 4/5 dots to Neva Cuisine, 2, rue de Berne in the 8th, 01.45.22.18.91, closed Saturday lunch and Sundays, with menus at 29 and 36 E for items such as petitpois soup, sweetbreads, crusted veal and a declinaison of chocolate; and Philippe Toinard gave 4/5 dots to the new creperie established by Olivier Roellinger, La Compagnie de Bretagne, 9, rue de l'Ecole de Medicine in the 6th, 01.43.29.39.00, closed Sundays, with a 14.50 E lunch menu, a la carte 25 E for charcuterie, crepes, galettes and cider.

Pottoka in the 7th: Beautiful, Basque, Bouche-ful.

6.5 Pottoka, 4, rue de l'Exhibition in the 7th, 01.45.51.88.38 (Bus #80), closed Sundays, has been open since June 23rd, my charming Italian-born waitress informed me, and has already gathered praise and custom.  Everyone probably knows by now that it is a Basque meat-oriented around-the-corner off-shoot of the seafood-oriented Fables de la Fontaine, itself originally an off-shoot of Christian Constant's just plain good food-oriented Violon d'Ingres, sold less than a decade ago by himself to two of his loyal aides from the Violin- Sébastien Gravé (a Basque chef) and David Bottreau (front-room master).  It's named for an endangered Basque pony, why?  You'll have to ask them.

 
It's got a really sharp, clean, edgy decor albeit with jammed-together ftables and an uncomplicated carte and 17 E 2-course and 22 E 3-course "menus" (which today includeda layered tarte of potato, boudin noir and salad, pork shoulder, avocado salad and cauliflower and "soup" of apricots and coconut.)  I wanted the highly praised charcuterie, however, and went with the carte (about 30-50 E).

 

 

 

I started with the Basque (Ibaïona) charcuterie rather than that from Spain (Iberique); it seemed only right - delicate, light ham, 2 types of sausage of varying spiciness and the famed boudin noir, which went on the terrifically crusted bread like it was made for it.  With the cornichons and peppers one had about as good a starter as could be hoped for.  Then I had the axoa (veal, too many potatoes for me, onions, peppers and Espelette from Ezpeleta) which was cooked in a traditional casserole with an untraditional pastry crust.  And unable to contain myself, I then had, after the longest wait of the year, what may have been the best dessert of the year, a gateau Basque with ice cream on crumble and a strawberry coulis - I could not finish it but couldn't envision their throwing it away, so threw myself on their mercy and got a Tupperwaresque container to apport it home.

The bill with that great bread, decent coffee and a nice wine (by the glass, 25, 50 and 75 cls) was 53.80 E; over my price point, but hey, I have breakfast tmrw to look forward to.

Go?  Fast folks; this is exactly the sort of place the New York TimesLRRP's (look it up), Seth Sherwood, Mark Bittman, Alexander Lobrano, et al, love and once they write it up, faggedaboudid.

Coda:

 

 

Paradoxical street scenes: In front of the Romanian Embassy, very obviously pregnant lady smoking and Muslamic woman covered hair to thumb with a French au pair.

La Grande Verriere in the 16th: Christian Le Squer's (Ledoyen) new venture.

 
5.2 La Grande Verriere is located in the Jardin d'Acclimation (1.45 E entry for geezers) in the Bois de Boulogne in the 16th (Metro: Sablons), 01.45.02.09.32, open 7/7 but only from 10 AM - 7 PM.  It was rehab'd in 2009 from old workshops and at that time was used for cocktail parties (600) or dinners (350), and was very much a big box. 

 
Despite sitting just besides a kiddy-train-station,

 
with the addition of some fancy design stuff (supposedly cactus-like) and designer chairs, plus the oversight of the menu by Christian Le Squer, he of the 3* Ledoyen downtown, it's a pretty spiffy upscale cantine.  Indeed, by this summer, it was being touted as a one of the most beautiful terraces in the city and very accommodating for children.  And so, it was a logical choice for 4 of us (one 8 years old) seeking an outdoorsy meal on an OK-weather Sunday afternoon.

The menu is hardly adventuresome but is interesting enough to appeal to children of all ages; three courses are 35 E for adults and two for kids at 15 E.

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My old friend from internship days had the Caesar salad with gambas, her grand-daughter had the chicken fingers (not pictured, which is a shame, because I thought that the batter on them as well as the fries that came with them, were exemplary), our mutual French friend from the 19th had a strange sounding but beautifully composed grapefruit, cabbage and Granny Smith salad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our friend had the pastilla wrapped lemon chicken and mi-cuit fois gras and I had the croquettes of cod aka brandade nems; both of which were quite acceptable if not better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally Mademoiselle had 2 scoops of ice cream and our friend and I both had the fraise melba, the latter of which again, was quite good.

Our bill with a bottle and glass of wine and three coffees and decent warm bread, was 155 E.

Go?  If you're looking for a kid-friendly restaurant where they can run around and do everything from miniature golf to pony rides, this is your place.

Mise en oeuvre.....at the Sevres Ceramique Museum. Show closed yesterday (whoops, no loss).

 
The show currently on display at what is now called the museum in the Sèvres - Cité de la céramique is entitled the "Mise en oeuvre, le quotidien et l'exceptionnel sous l'oeil du design" which is a high-fallutin' way of saying nice, everyday, well-designed stuff.

I apologize for this badly-lit back-lit photo, a better one can be found here, but I'd get my sorry a.. sued if I stole it.  In any case there is one case displaying this one set of 5 items in this huge show that is worth seeing, IMHO.  And believe it or not, one of them is sold by IKEA.  Amazing eh? 

 
Go?  Colette really wanted to go to this show in July despite her stress fracture, but frankly, the schelp to the Pont de Sevres, the trek across the bridge and the fight to get by the Smashing Pumpkins signs, now NOT live at Rock en Seine, but featuring The Kills, Foo Fighters, Arctic Monkeys and Death in Vegas (am I really that old that I don't even find the names amusing anymore?), is not worth the trouble and 4.50 E.  One wonderful observation; these ados and youngies are not covered with dreadful tatoos.

Le Corot, Cafe des Artistes, Paillotes: who's in the kitchen with Dinah?

 
5.5 The Etangs de Corot hotel in the Ville d'Avray has three restaurants and TMK a single kitchen.  When Benoît Bordier came here in 2008 as Executive Chef from Chez Jean in the 9th, I came out 2-3 times to eat at the upscale Le Corot; then at the downstairs more relaxed Cafe des Artistes and finally today aimed to be at the guinguette-like

 
Les Paillotes which confusingly, "Do It in Paris" reported had its own chef as of July, one Yvan Duchesne, from the school of Ducasse, but, but, but...the hotel's own website says that "Weather permitting, this terrace becomes an extension of Le Corot restaurant."  Today, despite my having reserved at Les Paillotes, we discovered on arrival that it was booked for a wedding, so they directed us through the empty Corot to the Cafe.  So whose food were we eating?  Does anyone care?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My old pal from hosting days elsewhere on the web came with me and despite our wandering around lost by the forest for 30 minutes, she was dazzled by the setting - it is impressive.  Once encounced, she ordered the salmon a la plancha with a Bearnaise sauce and asparagus (in August, almost September - for shame!)  She thought it was standard bistrot fare, I thought its crispy outside and great sauce were terrific.  I had sauteed gambas with soy and julienned veggies and mushrooms that were equally terrific.

 

 

 

For dessert she had what was called a mousse but I'd call a creme of pineapple and I had the stangest-looking but best-tasting lemon meringue tart ever (practically).  Again, she was less approving than I (this is one tough critic); true none of the four dishes was eye-popping but even she had to admit that the setting made the trip well worth it.  (BTW; everytime I've come I've taken the SCNF train from St Lazare direction Versailles RD for 17 minutes and walked to the Etangs and today, because I was going to the museum in Sevres, we took the bus back; most civilized and we got to see this great store sign:

The bill, oh yah.  With great bread, really great bread, good coffee, a nice white Gaillac and a ton of atmosphere, it was 79.00 E.

Go?  Who cares who's cooking for which dining room; it's a fine place in a fun setting on a nice day.

La Petite Cour in the 6th: Pudlo's "jeune chef du moment a decouvrir."

2.0 La Petite Cour, 8, rue Mabillon in the 6th, 01.43.26.52.26, closed only Saturday lunch* (Metro: St Germain/Mabillion) has had a new chef since Spring and I hate to pick on my old colleague, Gilles Pudlowski, but he did say earlier this summer that all the bloggers and press-guys had missed this one and I'm here to try to explain why.

On Paris by Mouth, we've been discussing streets with positive fengshui and I've been obsessed with the issue of whether fengshui is transferable or permanent, that is, if a restaurant is sited with positive fengshui in mind and then becomes a McDo's does it retain it?  An example is La Grande Rue in the 7th, an absolutely great place a decade ago that then became either Anatolie or Cafe 117 and lost my custom immediately. 

I bring this up because La Petite Cour is situated in a charming sunken garden across from the Marche St-Germain and was a favorite of Colette's and mine, serving up,if memory serves me, the best green beans of my life about 30 years ago.  Then it dropped off my radar screen, who knows why, and I returned one brilliant summer day a few years ago because i was under the mistaken impression that Gilles Epie was then cooking there.  Well, halfway through my terrible meal, I asked my waiter why the food was so bad, and he revealed that Epie had taken a bunk the day before.  So did the fengshui go with him or was it still here?

The place has what Pudlo describes "Second Empire" charm and was so glowingly written up by him that I had to see what all my fellow bloggers and press-guys were missing.  His photos, by the way, make you drool and sure convinced me.   Being a dreary, rainful day, I avoided the outside and curled up within on a great red banquette.

Took a look at the menu - nice choices, 27 E for 2 dishes and wines starting at 18 E a bottle; off to a good start; well, actually not; no cheapo wine, fresh out, next bottle up was 10 E more and glasses were 9.50 E apiece.  Butter was great though, giv'em that.  For a starter I had the gambas fried in a batter and served with a tartare sauce whose taste was strange - what was it?; not bad, but strange, like one of those weird tasting Japanese seaweedy things you get in the Inland Sea.  OK, judgement deferred.

Then I had the milk-fed pork with a sauce that also tasted weird, but bad weird this time, what was it?  Truffle oil, old athletic socks, rancid oil?  Dunno.  And it came with one of my all time favorites - deboned pig's feet aka trotters and one of my all time unfavorites - potatoes with boudin noir - none of which showed me one iota of creativity, care or appeal.

So like M. Epie, I took a bunk.

The bill, with no bottled water or dessert or coffee and minimal wine was 45 E.

Go?  Maybe there's a reason "all the bloggers and press-guys had missed this one," to whit, being *closed only Saturday lunch could explain why the food is unexciting; who can deliver 13 meals in 7 days without resting or thinking?

Some cool (to this geezer's eyes) restaurant signs seen today.