Freddy's, 54, rue de Seine in the 6th, 01.43.54.34.50 says the bill (but their card says "No Way" in English and there are no reservations) is a place the RFC introduced me to a few weeks ago and wondered if it would hold up without his and the Chef/genius-behind-the-throne's Imperial presence. Quick answer: it certainly did. The carte, printed, looks benign enough but the chalked up specials of the day are where to head.
We started off with a very nice Rhone and some eggplant pulp (OKA bābā ghannūj) put on bread that made for a divine start. Soon after, a carpaccio of poulpe arrived with a marinated (in EVOO & garlic) chopped pepper garnish that snapped Colette's head back.
Then (though they were all "small plates") we had as our mains a lovely piece of very Japanesy miso-coated salmon, a whole but tiny grilled rouget stuffed with herbs and a beignet with fennel and lemon (which they use a lot and not just on the fish) - all, as the Guignols' Chirac would say "Top-Top."
At this point we were about to order the clafoutis of mirabelles when chef appeared and apparently impressed by the volume and frequency of our "ooo's and ahhh's" said "Would you like to try some echine de porc" with the intonation and implication that if not, we'd better check into the nearest Dementia Center. "Ah yes" said I.
Colette let me eat most of it, and then sly slid in that, that meant she was still ordering the clafoutis. And a good thing too; it was a marvel.
Our bill (with the pork comp'd and the water given) was 63 E. At this high quality, I don't know how they can stay open.
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