John Talbott's Paris

Atao in the 17th: Still crazy (good) after all these years.

Atao (which means always or forever in Breton as in "Breiz Atao") not the name of its Japanese staffer is a place in the 17th that has been a reliable Sunday lunch standby for us for a long time.  From the Gavrines oyster box-top to the truck parked outside you know where the oysters are coming from and their other product sources are proudly spelled out in the menu which presents a dazzling number of options.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our guests shared the platter of five whole langoustines while Colette had six decorticated ones wrapped in shaved radish with menthe poivree (as we figured out = peppermint) and I enjoyed nine of the Belles creuses No 1; none of complained!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then our male friend had a super piece of daurade royale with crisp fingerling potatoes, Madame had two generous chunks of lieu jaune with the most impressive half-circle of variously colored beets, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli and squash I've ever seen and Colette and I had the shrimp sauteed in ginger and coriander - Yum to all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To terminate, we all shared crepes with butter and sugar and lemon and roasted figs with Chantilly; needless to say very, very nice.

With 2.5 bottles of Natural Muscadet, no bottled water but three coffees, our bill was 239 E or 119.50 E a couple.

Q: Go?  A: Brittany forever!

Repaire de Cartouche in the 11th: What a big meal by a big guy with a big heart.

Le Repaire de Cartouche in the 11th has been a favorite of mine, even before my colleague at Paris By Mouth, Patricia Wells, said one must visit it at least once a year - and it being the beginning of game season and a Saturday, what better excuse?  Rodolphe Pacquin has a new toy, a veritable pink stuffed pig that oinks and talks in American English that someone gave him, that's an ideal companion for a hearty meal.

We began as always with his impeccable pork rillettes with his impeccable slightly moist warmish bread and an impeccable 2007 Cahors.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For starters our companions had the mozzarella buffala with a chopped tomato concoction and haricots verts with mushrooms (a long time favorite of Colette's) and I had the foie gras with a terrific spicy salad; the serving sizes are equal to mains in most restaurants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For mains Colette had a very nice piece of bar with very crispy skin and scales  and accompanied by very tasty/interesting beets; Madame had a fricassee of poularde with white beans; M. the cote de veau with cepes that he (and I) was entranced by; and I had the grouse breast with a forcemeat of foie gras wrapped in cabbage with sliced cabbage all around and underneath - wow!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally Colette had the peach melba (not pictured), Madame loved the sable with Reine Claudes and nougat ice cream and M. enjoyed the platter of wonderfully ripe cheeses.

Our bill with 2 bottles of wine, no bottled water and four coffees was 232 E for four or 116 E a couple.

Bonus Photo seen in the Spring Boutique/Wine Shop in Paris:

Pirouette in the 1st: still crazy (cool) after all these weeks.

So, so, so, I was here at Pirouette a coupla weeks ago and I really liked it and so I took my treasured wife/mistress/partner/companion of, would you believe - 51 years?, even though by now, all the "big boys" had weighed in and I was sure the place would be full, haute-gamme'd and ruined; but, but, but, it was indeed full, haute-gamme'd but in no way ruined, indeed it was even more nuanced than before.

The carte/ardoise is overwhelming; abundance, options, Oy vey, what to do?

Madame, the French teacher/scholar from St Malo had the chestnut soup with mushrooms but it, like all the dishes to follow, cannot be described so simply, it was a melange of ingredients, textures and flavors; as was my new author friend's dish of tiny slices of artichoke, goat cheese and gnocchis; and my foie gras (sorry California) with a port gelee and fig compote and fig slices  was about as good as it gets.

For mains, Madame and I had the veal 3 or maybe 4 ways - thymis, kidneys, tongues and perhaps, real muscle, terrific; M. had the mulet which apparently, despite living in France and being married to a French woman for a lotta decades, he's never had, with confited veggies was pretty darn good; and Colette had the langoustines, which, surprisingly, were not the usual 5 in a row from the plancha, with a "ah hem" "salad" but a creative melange.  Man oh man!

Alors, for dessert, we shared a chocolate "tart" - whoa - and Colette's fave - the rice pudding, with extra caramel and toasted almond slices, pas mal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, so, so, there's the wine for you wine guys, and with no bottled water and good, indeed quite good bread and two coffees, our bill was 111 E a couple (d/t 2.5 bottles of wine and some 7 E for supplements).  Disclosure: I was offered and gratefully drank a wondeful poire digestif .

Go?  Silly question.  The big boys love it, the New York Times will feature it soon and I'll try to get in as much as possible before it becomes the next Spring, Chez L'Ami Jean or Frenchie for die-hard webfoodaddicts.

L'Office in the 9th: A most pleasant second visit under the new chef.

Colette's  back in town and with her comes the wish to try all the good places I've sacrificed my body, stomach and liver for since she was last here.  And L'Office was right up there on her wish list so off we went with another frequent crossing-the-Atlantic food nut.

As we entered Charles Compagnon, the owner with the golden touch, who knows us all for different reasons, greeted us awarmly and rattled off the menu in English, only pausing for my translation of one word - palourde.  The menu remains 3 + 3 + cheese or 3 and great sounding all.

Our travelling gourmet and I started with sauteed oysters with microtomed salsify and halved grapes that was an exceptional dish - multi-light, multi-textured and multi-tasty.

We sampled all three mains; with S. having the chicken which was tender as can be, Colette had daurade with palourdes, avocado and tomato and I had a wonderful sourced and perfectly cooked piece of veal with various veggies.

My lady friends ended with a chocolate tart and peach and tapioca concoction; here Colette was unimpressed but I was much impressed.

Our bill with one bottle of Syrah/Shiraz and no bottled water (even though he makes the filtered home made stuff), fine bread and three great coffees was 101 E for three or 74 E a couple, leaving a few "yellow pieces".

Go again?  As our guest said "It's much more nuanced food than before."

FAQ. How to eat ‘’local“or avoiding those dastardly Americans like us in Paris restaurants.

On another food website someone recently asked “How to eat ‘local“’ which I take it to mean how does one American avoid other Americans sitting near them or worse, talking American English during meals.

And of course, it goes without saying that the reason we’re in Paris is to avoid the very people whom we would be delighted to eat with in the US, but no matter.  I’m here to tell you how. 

First, eat at lunch not dinner.  Lunch is when French folks go to their local places and dinner is when they go home; lunch is when Americans are trying, quite rightly, to see the Louvre, Versailles, the Champs—Elysees, etc., and dinner is when they can kick back. 

Second, go to “new” places, that is, places that have not been written up in the New York Times, Financial Times, Food and Wine, Travel & Leisure and the guidebooks, be they in English (Zagats, etc.) or French (Michelin, Pudlo, Lebey, etc.).

Third, eat where the French not Americans are; thus avoid the city center and go to the 5th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th or even better, beyond the peripherique – in Levellois-Perret, Puteaux, Meudon, Issy-Les-Molineaux, Vitry-sur-Seine or Le Perreux-sur-Marne.  This recalls the advice given by the mysterious Olivier Morteaux for success, to “go to a culinary wasteland.” 

Fourth, check out the blogs, especially those in French, you don’t need to understand the nuances of a wordtwister like Francois Simon to get the point of most writers. 

Fifth, read Meg Zimbeck’s excellent weekly summary of news from the blogs in Paris by Mouth (disclosure: I’m in her pocket). 

And sixth, look around you, the best food-finder of the last decade came across many finds while motorcycling around Paris; if the restaurant across the street or when flaneuring looks new and the menu intriguing, what have you got to lose?

Reviews of reviews: The week of September 17th 2012

Monday-Tuesday, in A Nous Paris, Jerome Berger gave 3/5 dots to L’Office, coordinates given previously, which has a new chef, open Monday-Fridays, with menus from 21-33 E on which are items such as ham, a bit dry meat and pineapple-coco-biscuit ; while Philippe Toinard went to Antoine de Montmartre, Heerah’s 4th place in Montmartre (3/5 as well) at 102ter rue Lepic (the old Montagnard space for we locals), 01.53.09.23.93, closed Sundays, where for 40-65 E one can have everything from duck croquette to a cotes de boeuf and chocolate croquettes.

Tuesday in Le Fooding, Philippe Lafon reviewed Mia in Montpellier.

On Wednesday in Figaroscope’s « Nouveauties A La Carte » Emmanuel Rubin started off awarding the Japanese Kinugawa in the 1st 3 hearts as well as two each for two places whose coordinates have already been given, Abri in the 10th and L'Ilot in the 3rd.  Finally he gave one heart to Le Preaumur in the 2nd and a busted heart to L'Universita della Pizzeria in the 1st.

The Dossier today by Francois Simon was on restaurants to go to Fashion Week ranked 1-10
L’Hotel Costes
Le Dauphin
Derriere
La Societe
Le Dali
L’Avenue
L’Hotel Amour
Caviar Kaspia
Le Beef Club
Water Bar Colette

And Francois Simon went to Le Stresa in the 8th.

In L’Express, François-Régis Gaudry reviews Anne-Sophie Pic’s place as well as the 110 de Taillevent, Charles Patin O'Coohoon covers Le carré d'Alethius in Charmes-sur-Rhône.  In addition in two articles Mina Soundiram names her three favorite breakfast places – Claus, Cafe Matisse and Telescope and Agnès Waendendries, Agnès Benoit and Floriane Manin talked of wine bars serving grand crus, none of which is in Paris.

Perla in New YorK; Another superb Paga recommendation.

Perla, address obvious from the photo, in New York, is a place I found out about by calling my New York source Paga when I learned I had to go visit an old friend in a Greenwich Village Rehab facility the next day.  Me (who lived in NYC 25 years) "Gotta go to 6th and Bleeker; wha's there?"  He (who's lived there 76) "You've fallen well, it's culinary heaven, go to Perla on Minetta.  Been there several times, super, (your sort of place - unspoken but understood)".  Me: "Thanks."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And it was.  My friend T. who had trained down from Providence had spicedup squidink tagliatelle with corn (corn?  that's right) and Scotch bonnet (that's right), our patient/friend's wife N. from Geneva had a very, very nice "salad", almost a millefeuille type array of red beets, mache, hazelnuts and robiola cheese, and I, having trained up from B-more, had an absolutely wonderful dish of shredded duck ragu on cavatelli. 

With a glass of wine each for the guys, three big boules of (pear, passion) sorbetto which we all shared and three ristretti, our bill amounted to $66.66 a couple before tip.

Go?  Oh yes, even if you're not coming from all over.

Memories of the real Halles.

It’s amusing to realize, when I respond to people who posit that I must have been around when Les Halles was the center of food distribution in town not the center of drug sales, that thinking back on my experiences, it was no big deal.

When I came with my Experiment in International Living group in 1953 with our very special and fabulous leader Paul Chassé, in addition to taking us (on money he had sequestered from our trip expense kitty) to the Tour d’Argent (at age 18, to go to the most famous restaurant in Paris and have a numbered pressed duck, oh boy!) and Maxim’s (years before Gigi, but with all the swells in black and white tie), he offered to lead us on a tour of what was then the central market of Paris.

At 3 or 4 in the morning we got there somehow (and I always thought the Metro stopped at 1 AM) and walked through the iron worked pavilions designed by Victor Baltard, some of whose fragments remain up in Nogent sur Marne (for food folks, it’s conveniently located right near the magnificent resto Les Magnolias in Le Perreux).

So we got there, and walked through and by the meat, fish, vegetable and fruit stands and areas; as I said it was not big deal.  Sure we’d all read Zola’s 1873 Le Ventre de Paris (The Belly of Paris) and noted the barrels of burning wood (even in August) and smalls and yes, rats, but it was normal, just there, no big deal.

And, of course, Paul then took us to one of the dozen café-bistros serving onion soup and such all night (of which only the Pied du Cochon remains, I believe, whose soup was pretty pathetic when I returned a decade ago).

In any case, we then trekked home, somehow, got up as usual – we were adolescents after all, and Les Halles was just one more thing we had experienced – no big deal.

Watching Telematin’s Carinne Teyssandier or Mr. Ex-Fatty (aka Vincent Ferniot) walking through Rungis in puffy coats holding up melons or cutting into tomatoes or explainig the differences between different colored carrots or beets just doesn’t come close to what Les Halles was like – it’s almost antiseptic.

And when I hear French and Americans talk today about Les Halles as it was before it became the world’s grubbiest, gypsy-infested mall I share the nostalgia, it was rather grand, but after all – it was no big deal.

Words on Wednesdays: Brit newspapers are so good.

After 3 days reading 5 national Brit papers I've concluded when it comes to Art, Culture, Wine & Food as well as various viewpoints on the news many are better than the NYT/WSJ/LeMonde & Figaro.  Sad.  Although I didn't dip my toe into the sludge pool run by Murdoch.

A weekend in London/Brighton/Hove: The Grand at St Pancras

So I'm in St Pancras rather than Waterloo, which I much preferred the French to arrive at, and I had a few minutes between trains en route to Brighton for a wedding.  Where to go?

Obviously, the Grand aka Searcys and indeed it was a very wise choice indeed.
It took a while to find, in Britain today, there are no info people despite the signs for recent Olympics.  Muddle on, eh, it's in me DNA.
Find it, "sit in or outside sir?" Outside being inside.  Inside being really inside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Look a menu, order Brit right? Right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whitebait with tartar sauce, delicious!
200 grams of perfectly cooked 28-day aged Aberdeen sirloin organically raised with a goofy looking almost dessicated tomato on top, but but but, add a slice of the tomato which has fleur de sel and it's heaven.
Dessert hum, "Etonian mess with a cherry," ask Eastern European waitperson if this is truly a "mess" from Eton college, indeed, sounded awful. 
Skipped for a double espresso from a huge Italian monster-machine, way ahead of the Costa's downstairs, yah.

My bill, with two glasses of wine, no bottled water, muted music, good bread and butter, it's the UK no? Was 46.25 pounds with tip.
Go?  If you've just arrived on the Eurostar en route to Brighton you bet, I can truly recommend it.

And Coda: If you ever find yourself in Hove, you can do worse than the Bali Brasserie.  Delicious!