John Talbott's Paris

Terroir Parisien by Yannick Alleno: Hyped before; undervalued afterwords; silly French critics.

 

 

 

 

 

6.6 (Le) Terroir Parisien by Yannick Alleno, 24, rue rue St-Victor in the 5th, 01.44.31.54.54, open 7/7 (Metro: Maubert-Mutualite) has been open exactly two weeks and is running like a Swiss watch (except for the slow delivery of our mains). 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's in the dreadful Mutualite Building, which today was the site of the graduation of the EDHEC Business School but only last month hosted ParisdesChefs, that great display of rotating blades of culinary machines.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the Northwestern wall is a list of Alleno's sources/producers in the Ile de France, that's the concept, "locavore," and to the right of it are two columns of stacked vegetable boxes of many of said items.  To get a clear shot of the chalkboard, Paris' equivalent of Danny Meyers graciously stood up so I wouldn't reveal that Terroir Parisien was where he ate when not cooking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For firsts we had the musseau, which one of our guests had never had but declared it the best; eggs in a bouillon; escargot-stuffed mushrooms of Paris and langoustines in a creamy jelly sauce - all equally good.  And of course we had to have his version of the "hot dog" beautifully described by Elain Sciolino in the NYT modified by making it with tete de veau, putting it between multigrain bread and using gribiche sauce instead of mustard - delicious.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our mains were the matelote, paleron of beef with vegetables, raie prepared classically and merlan fried traditionally but not biting its tail, rather it was butterflied and butterized - once again the dishes were all perfectly sourced, prepared and served.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of our guests, who had eaten here last week, indicated early on that she'd like to try the cheese platter this time and there was plenty for the four of us, all of which were interesting excepting the brie noir which I guess is an acquired taste.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For desserts, another four classics: poached pear, chocolae mousse, brioche perdu and a mini-baba (which didn't knock my socks off).

With a fine red Loire, no bottled water and two coffees, a couple can exit for just under 100 E (and this is with the hot dog and cheese plate).

Go?  I can neither understand the buzz before or lukewarm reception after its opening; this place, like Dans Les Landes.... and the Cantine de Troquet Dupleix and Christian Constant's Cafe serves simple, unfussy, great food - Run.

L'Hedoniste in the 2nd: Nice food from nice folk in a nice area.

This was my third time at L'Hedoniste in the 2nd and we ate with two new friends who it turns out publish the journal I'm the Editor of; I guess I should've guessed that from the name.

The male component of the couple asked me if the place looked much different from a bit over a year ago when I first came and I answered frankly that it did not; the Montorgueil neighborhood is still just as cool, the welcome is still just as warm and the offerings are still quite appealing and comprehensive.

I was the only one ordering a first; green asparagus, mackerel almost smoky tasting (in a nice way) with chopped veggies and a light sauce underneath.  With the adequate bread, it was a wonderful start for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ladies ordered a wild daurade for their mains while we guys had filets of veal with topnotch mushrooms, minipancakes and a slice of microtomed fried potato; everyone was very happy including me, despite having had an intense discussion of the doneness to be done to the veal - me, of course, wanting it raw, he saying that was simply not the way the chef made it and I'd love it rose, which I did, much to my chagrin.

The ladies terminated with a sable with lemon cream, pomegranate seeds, apple slices and minimeringues; ahhhright!

 

With a bottle of white to start and red to continue, bottled water (yes Dear Reader) and three coffees our meal came to $78.25 a couple.

Berthe Morisot at the Musee Marmottan: More than you imagined

If you thought you'd seen enough of Berthe Morisot's paintings and drawings, especially the Marmottan's holdings of some 80, you ain't seen nothing yet.  Here there are some 150 including those from the Marmottan as well as private collections.  Colette loved it/them; I thought enough was enough.

3 Wows for Morisot lovers.

Le Clocher de Montmartre: Some* serious food steps from Sacre Coeur

Le Clocher de Montmartre represents a break-through for the (Mont)montagnards; like Hillary planting a flag atop Everest, the existence of decent food on the top of our hill is noteworthy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This time I was sitting facing the wall and thus in a position to see both the superheros and saucer and spoon light fixtures.  The amuse gueule of mushroom soup and foie gras on toast started us off on a very nice note indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For firsts we had the warm langoustine tails on salad that were superb and what were called nuggets [sic] of pork but were essentially curried pork croquettes that I was not as wild about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ladies proceeded to have the special of the day - succulent duck filets - approximating the best I've ever had, M. had an entrecote which was well, an entrecote, and I had the biggest lobe of veal liver imaginable, not cooked quite raw enough for me but certainly within the boundaries.

We all shared a Paris-Brest which was so good that we took one home for breakfast the next day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our bill with a bottle of wine a couple, no bottled water, good bread with good butter that come with it, one glass of tea and four coffees, came to 87.25 E.

*Some serious food; my only beef with this place is that its menu has too much tilt towards club sandwiches, salads and brunch stuff and too few traditional French food offerings but maybe when summer comes, they'll needall that stuff for the tourists.

 

Paris Pix: Le Repaire de Bacchus, Rue des Martyrs

Anti-Americanism in the kitchen and guides?

I don’t understand the French critics; if an untrained Italian opens up yet another mediocre pizza joint, it’s automatically reviewed, if an American makes hamburgers and fries, it’s a big deal, worthy of a special section in Figaroscope, but God help it if someone from North America cooks “traditional French food.” They are written off either because of the critics’ latent Anti-Americanism or because it’s assumed that all North Americans can do are hamburgers and hot dogs, which is their stereotype of American cuisine. In their tiny world, Alice Waters, Tom Keller, Grant Aschatz and David Chiang don’t exist.

Let me substantiate this by some recent examples.

The story of Daniel Rose toiling up in the 9th for months without recognition (except from some fellow countrymen) only became known when Figaro revealed that Spring was hard to get into, much harder than Gagnaire/etc. He rarely gets invited to food demos and even had to pay his way one year to the Omnivore Food Festival. And last month the Michelin showed its prejudice by lauding Cobea, Lignac and Marx and leaving Rose (Disclosure*) by the side of the road once again.

Then Laura Adrian and Braden Perkins came to town and got no notice; OK, maybe the French critics consider non-restaurant kitchens to be non-reviewable, but they certainly fell all over themselves at Nomiya. Even when the Hidden Kitchen became impossible to book at, silence. When they opened a genuine restaurant, Gaudry called the food “gastrominiturization” and Rubin used words like “cuisine mignarde” that beats its wings without ever taking off. Alone, an American, Alexander Lobrano said it served “great food.”

Finally, while the American blogosphere has been abuzz since last fall when Catherine Reed opened her eponymous restaurant in the heart of the 7th, there has been dead silence from the French guys – who had plenty of time to review silly French places. This lack of information was so obvious that it caused one website loyalist to wonder if like the Wizard of Oz, it was real at all. Well, it is real and Catherine Reed, who hails from Quebec not Quiberon, was treated like everyone above.

It is also interesting that to my knowledge, only Lobrano has addressed the latent or perhaps overt Anti-Americanism that exists.

In any case, here are the coordinates of the latest victim of French culinary critics’ omerta:
Reed aka Catherine Reed
11 bis rue Amelie in the 7th, (Metro: Latour Maubourg)
T: 01.45.55.88.40
Closed Sundays and Mondays
A la carte about 40-50E with liquids

*Disclosure; I consider myself an “early adopter” and friend of his, although he’s never comp’d me at his two restaurants with anything other than a second coffee.

Reviews of reviews: The week of March 12th, 2012

Monday-Tuesday in A Nous Paris, Jerome Berger gave 3/5 dots to Youpi et Voila, coordinates given before, where he talked about the daily menu which when he was there had scallops, an oyster tartare, shellfish, Basque lamb and a poached pear, while his compatriot, Philippe Toinard wrote up and gave 3/5 dots to Le Chemise, coordinates given before, talking about the os a moelle, confit de canard, lacquered duck and a gourmandise.

On Wednesday, in Figaroscope, Emmanuel Rubin reviewed his usual five places, giving all but one ¼ hearts: Le Sot l’y laisse, coordinates given before; Le Dome du Marais, coordinates in the guidebooks; La Conserverie, 37, rue du Sentier in the 2nd, 01.40.26.14.94, serving potato soup, crisp chicken and clafoutis in a bento at lunch, closed weekends; and the Italian Sassolini in the 8th. He also gave a busted heart to the Chinese Village Meisi in the 2nd

Just in time for summer, the Dossier this week by Hugo de Saint-Phalle, Alice Bosio, Francois Simon and Colette Monsat, was devoted to guest editor and academician Jean d’Ormesson’s favorite dish – giving the “best” cassoulets as from:
La Fontaine de Mars
Auberge Pyrenees-Cevennes
Le Gastroquet
L’Assiette
Le Violin d’Ingres
J’Go Saint-Germain
Au Trou Gascon

And Francois Simon went with M. d’Ormesson to L’Instant d’Or.

This week in l’Express Francois-Regis Gaudry wrote articles on l’Epicuriste and l’Agape Substance.

 

Paris Pix: Schmid's for charcuterie & choucroute.

Les Fondus de la Raclette: An archival* review.

Les Fondus de la Raclette, 19 Joseph Dijon in the 18th, 01.42.58.34.22, never closed, was a throw-away meal, around the corner on cook’s night off (that is, me). It opened two months ago and I’ve been eyeing it thinking, hummm, could be interesting- and it was new in the nabe, so…. – but actually it’s not totally new, there’s another in the 14th on the Blvd Raspail.

Let’s start with the revelations:

1st as opposed to my Gold Standards – the raclette at The Monk’s Inn near Lincoln Center in the ‘60’s and every place I’ve been to in Geneva and the Savoie, whose raclette is made by scraping off raclette cheese from the wheel, here they made nothing except the wonderful baked potatoes in aluminum foil, you did all the work;

2nd the place was so full they turned folks away at 9 PM;

3rd the chief waitperson spoke “spent a year in Kansas” English and was funny, sexy and efficient at the same time;

4th miraculously they controlled the grills on each table centrally; and

5th when you got this huge platter of cheese, ham, salami, sausage and prosciutto it looked awful, supermarket stuff, eat quick and get out, but in fact was great.

OK, the negatives: unless you’re selling/buying antiques at the St Ouen flea market or living in or staying at the nearby Ibis or Eden Montmartre Hotels (both of which I can endorse) or are lost in the deepest 18th, and are dying for raclette or cheese fondue, you would never think of this place.

But for the record: 3 courses (huge) cost 21 € at night and much less at noon – I had a monumental salad with the best ever lardons (better than Aux Lyonnais) and surprising good warm goat cheese on peasant bread (that did not come – horrors – from our famous local #9 Rue du Poteau Quatre-Hommes cheesery but the mothership in the 14th); a raclette that I could finish only ½ of and was terrific (and most of all, totally destroyed my wife Colette’s theory that hot heat destroys Teflon pans – these were all white hot); and one of, if not the, best crème brulées ever.

With a spot of wine I paid 35 €. Not bad for a throw-away meal. But that’s Paris, in’t it?

*Originally published in September 2006.

Airline Food: So it's not just my aged palate. Words on Wednesdays.

It was reassuring to learn why I liberally use Tabasco, order vindaloo and love ice cream at 36,000 feet.  The New York Times tells all.