My friend M. of SF wrote elsewhere that we shouldn't write up our favorite local restos but hold them like the Pope, in pectore; moi, a blabbermouth, I spill out everything, but in this case, none of my readers will go to the far reaches of the 17th for great food at reasonable prices anyway because when the Dudes turn to the Dudesses and say "it's at the Rue de Saussure and the Blvd Berthier", I can see their faces and hear their voices "Where?" Good.
My cousin or something like that, ordered the lettuce soup with an egg - banal sounding, eh? - anything but, luscious; I had the rillettes of pork, banal sounding, eh? - anything but, delicious; foie gras and pressed chicken, banal sounding, eh? - anything but, voluptuous. And clever.
Then Cuz had the leg of lamb with tiny roasted spring (almost Noirmoutier) potatoes and the rest of us had fresh (not frozen) gambas on a squid ink suffused risotto with parmesan, all "pas mal de tout!"
For dessert two of us had the world's champion French toast with thyme-flavored caramel sauce and the losers had the moelleux which paled in comparison. Tant pis!
With two bottles of a Cotes du Rhone, no bottled water and four coffees our bill was a tad over 82 E a couple. Go? I implore you, no. Stay down in the 5th or 6th or wherever.
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