John Talbott's Paris

Panache in the 9th: "Interesting compositions of ingredients, textures and flavors" but ............

6.0 Panache, 1 rue Geoffroy-Marie in the 9th, 01.47.70.85.87, closed Sundays, is located in an old Jewish bakery in this section of the 9th that a pair/couple of translators I know, knew from a past era.  Next door is the Hotel Panache, formerly the Hotel Madrid, and the bakery was taken over by David Lanher, the restaurateur behind Racines, Racines 2, Racines New York, Caffé Stern and Le Bon Saint-Pourçain and is eye-poppingly new.  My friends prefer to walk to and from lunch and work before and afterwards, so I keep a separate list of places for us in which to dejeune.  We did a little bit of negotiating over what to choose, as the place began to fill with hipsters and Bobo's and geeks, whom my friends tell me have become overlapping categories - anyway sitting at the comptoir eating with brilliant red headphones on, surely puts you in at least one of them.

So, one of us started with the carpaccio of cooked veal with a sweet cream of anchovies and red beets; her husband had the soft egg with ail des ours ("Allium ursinum – known as ramsons, buckrams, wild garlic, broad-leaved garlic, wood garlic, bear leek or bear's garlic.....a wild relative of chives native to Europe", sez Wikipedia), watercress and bacon; and I had the warm lentils with mackerel and an orange Bergamote sauce; all quite nice.

As mains one of us had and shared the pork ribs with BBQ sauce and the other two had terrific pieces of cod, cooked to perfection - oddly the chef Paul Landre (whom we later learned was American, but perhaps not from a state where BBQ is done low and slow), cooked neither the leeks nor ribs til they were supple.  For finals we shared one portion of a terrific almond cake with confited pears and a tarte of seasonal fruits.

Our bill, with a bottle and glass of Foulards Rouges, two coffees and average bread, was 113.00 E or 75.33 E a couple.  dB= 88.1

Go?  This is a tough call. I'd say given the locovore slant, good producers and mixture of flavors - yes, and I trusted the waiter when he told us the chef had taken our comments to heart.

Restaurant Nube in the 8th: "The food is actually good here," said my dining partner, leaving the "but worthy of a 5* hotel?" in a thought bubble.

5.0 Nubé (in the 5* Hotel Marignan), 12-14 rue de Marignan in the 8th, 01.40.76.34.56, open 7/7, has an enticing 32 E forced choice "lunch menu" and then the prices go up and up.  This place is not to be confused with Nüba, on the roof of Les Docks, Cité de la Mode et du Design, in the 13th, because here in the midst of really rich shoppers row, you rub elbows with the 1%'ers.  The décor is bizarre, looking like you were tossed ashore on a desert island.  My dining partner took a look at the carte, as I had, and declared herself in for two entrees; cool!

The franco-colombien chef, Juan Arbelaez, started us off with a delightfully refreshing amuse of fava beans on a puree of petit pois and other things, which fit right in with the mushroom salt & pepper shakers and Kalios olive oil which has graced 3 tables this week (I conclude their salesfolks have been working overtime).

They started my friend off with the warm razor clams instead of the asparagus salad, which seemed backwards, but, hey.  Both were alright, as was my canette breast main with potatoes, but no rockets went off and the food was not in the least exciting - ditto for the fruit (mango, passion fruit, etc.) dessert.

 

Our bill, with a bottle of nice Cotes de Blaye, decent bread and 5 E coffees, was 124 E.  On my way out I asked to use the elevator to go downstairs to the toilets and one of the several concierges asked me how my meal had been - I fudged saying the service was a bit rough (slow delivering plates, description of dishes given in a heavily accented whisper, etc.) and he said "Well, this chef has only been here 2 months."  Well, maybe that explains something but not everything.

Go?  Unh unh.

The Bistro Urbain in the 10th: "Oooh lord, nobody knows the troubles I've seen." But it's my fault totally.

So, Backstory: 3 years ago, 4 of my most trusted and cherished food-friends invited me to try a place, they and the big boys at the major print media, thought was outstanding.  I went and did not like the meal, but they did, so I chalked it up to, ah, my off day.

A few weeks ago, 3 of my most trusted and cherished food-friends invited me to try a place, they thought was outstanding - that had a new chef.  Sound familiar?  Me, I didn't check the place's history or feng shui, bad on me.

3.0 Le Bistro Urbain, 103, rue Faubourg St Denis in the 10th, 01.42.46.32.49, closed weekends, is a place I swear to God, I had wiped my memory board clean of, and I was judging for the first time - trusted friends, new chef, probably different carte - OK.  I was warmly welcomed, gave the name of the grand-mother of our hostess, which I had written down, installed, given carte and wine list; so far so good except a sign in the window said in English "Home made dishes" or suchlike; which to me means "Yankees, enter here, we know you."  My friends came and we set out to do serious ordering.

All of us regarded the carte and murmured about the 1000 year old (just kidding) sardines (but the Rodels do go back to 1824 and their "Sardines sans arêtes millésimées" are supposed to be better if eaten after at least 10 years - OK, whatever; they were OK, with fine bread and butter and great olive oil.

My 3 dining partners, on the other hand, ordered real firsts: salads of asparagus, artichokes and a tartare of daurade; all of which were OK, but not serious food, more the stuff you'd eat on the dock waiting for the Ile d'Yeu ferry.

Our mains were: gnocchi stuffed with chloroform, now I'm being silly, chlorophylle = seaweed, algae type stuff, which our leading lady swooned over, the fish of the day and ribs with the strangest sauce I've ever had, really repulsive.  the guys in the kitchen looked Japanese so maybe it was soya, oyster, bean etc., based but it was not to my taste although the confited daikon was very nice and sweet as a confited pear.

Everyone hemmed and hawed about ordering dessert but in the end we had a nice plate of cheese and a nice chocolate mousse.

Our bill for 4, with 2 bottles of a nice Madiran, one San Pellegrino (8 E, wow!) and 3 coffees, was 186.60, thus 93.30 E a couple.  Noise was a problem, it was over 90 dB at times despite our pleas to turn it down, when it became 82.9 dB.

Go?  For the others, I think yes, for me no, but here comes the fun.......

Post story.  When everyone has left or is in the loo, the chief guy walks up with his lap-top with my review of 3 years ago and says "I'd just like to point out a few errors you made."  Very civilized, not angry and not contesting my opinions, only my facts.  Whoa.  "Everyone is entitled to their opinion but not their facts," he seemed to imply.  So I listened and thought seriously about not posting this report, but then I remembered that I was not writing it for him, or the chefs or the owners but my readers.  So the review of three years ago and today stand.

 

Walking past Charles deGaulle's statue I couldn't help re-reading the statement that "Paris....liberated itself."   As the son of a WWII veteran who never held much of an opinion about deGaulle but adored Eisenhower, I've always found this proclamation at odds with the facts, as if the Allies didn't exist.  But a few yards away are flags of France and Australia, so maybe their 27,000 dead are being celebrated this VE day or maybe the French are making up for the Gallipoli ceremony a few days ago, honoring the almost 10,000 ANZAC troops who died there.

George Desvallieres and L'Atelier (from Ingres to Koons) at the Petit Palais: Chacun à son goût....ah, wait a minute.

The poster of the George Desvallieres show at the Petit Palais is of a quite fetching nude and I was suckered into going to the entire show, which goes from studio school paintings, to Manet-esque stuff to very muddy-messy inventions of his own; as I exited searching for a way to the entrance I went from the back to the front of the show of photographs of ateliers of everyone from Koons to Ingres, for me the neat ones were those in the last and first rooms, not without mentioning that of Picasso, see above.  Shame facedly I must admit I liked this show tons better than Desvallieres.

Le Radis Beurre in the 15th: "Exactly how do you rate these places, John?" "Ahhhh."

7.8 Le Radis Beurre, 51, Blvd Garibaldi in the 15th, 01.40.33.99.26, closed weekends, is a restaurant, the chef, Jerome Bonnet, a veteran of many fine houses in France, has clearly put his heart into.  The carte looks simple, similar to many places in town, but as the dishes roll out you realize the differences.

My dining partner and I ordered the same things, ordinarily a risky gamble at a new place but our confidence wasn't shaken.  First we had lovely little pats of pigs feet and foie gras, with a terrific sauce; but the chef didn't stop there - he added a perfectly offsetting salad.  Then we both had the most sublime entire squab (pigeon), perfectly cooked; but he didn't stop there - he put it on top of par-cooked peas on top of a pea puree.  And we finished up with two scoops of wonderful chocolate mousse with what I guess was praline ice cream although it was described as givré; but he didn't stop there, it had fantastic crumbled cookies.

I was dining with a wine guy, so he picked a very nice St Nicholas de Bourgeuil to start, but when it came time for dessert, our genial wine saavy wait-guy suggested a Bordeaux Superieur which matched perfectly as well.  With a bottle and two glasses of wine, a small bottled water and two coffees, our bill was 129 E.

Go?  To answer my friend's question, how did I rate this place?  Very high indeed; it had not a missed step from setting, décor, welcome, reasonably spaced seating, noise-level, through menu prices (25 for 2 courses, 34 E for 3), plate pacing, ambiance, and nice looking and age-spaced local clientele to nice good-bye.

Mobilis in Mobili in the 1st: great raw bar, cool setting, rough service.

6.0 (well actually 7 for the seafood, 3 for the service), 94 rue St Denis in the 1st, 09.53.58.97.13, closed Mondays (Metro: Etienne Marcel) is in the middle of hell, well I mean Halles, with teeshirt etc shops all around.  From the outside it looks like an unfinished wood enclosure, which it is, with paneling like a pacqueboat and booths set like private rooms, all with two level shelves on which sit the bread and shellfish detritus pans.  It's cool, very cool, even though the front window has displays of shellfish as one sees tonkatsu and sushi displays in Japan.  The two-sided carte/menu has platters as well as single items and the latter looks like a spread-sheet.

I started out with an intensely flavored bisque d'etrilles that was fabulous; then two of us ordered the 14 E Moussaillon du jour and the bold guy chose the 32 E Plaisancier which had so much he begged us to take some; all the seafood was good (except my spicy sauce loving Filipino-American pal couldn't get any hot sauce).  We wound up ordering a wonderful and generous assortment of seasonal fruits and the café gourmand (with great caramel chocolate ice cream and lovely mini-desserts).

With two bottles of wine, alright bread and no bottled water or other coffee/tea, our bill (with a La Fouchette reduction) was 117 E or 78 E a couple.

Go?  Ah, there's the rub.  While the food was excellent, the service was spotty and our dishes arrived minutes apart; we also had trouble hailing the staff from our seating below deck.  But as one of us, who has been a professional chef, noted, they're young, they're new and they haven't been at it that long.  On verra.

 

 

Sunset in the 18th: This is what the neighborhood really needed: a friendly, upscale farm to table bio wine cafe, neo-bistro open 7 days a week 8 am to 2 am.

Back story: One of my oldest friend's (think college) daughter takes drama classes nearby and we try to eat between her school and my squat at places that are interesting.  Sunset has not received a lot of press, for reasons that puzzle me, but today we decided to go.

6.0 Sunset, 100 Rue Ordener in the 18th, 01 71 28 99 33, open 7 days a week for breakfast, lunch and dinner, except noon on weekends when they have brunch but no breakfast.  The site used to be a very menacing looking place called the Blues Bar, above which Wikipedia says Nicholas Sarkozy once lived; in any case it has been thoroughly renovated and is now a tremendously popular hangout for what Le Fooding calls "bearded guys in beanies and skinny girls with bangs."  Maybe, but my friend and I fit into this crowd of locals very easily.

They offered my guest two small versions of the firsts: an endive salad with Roquefort mousse and mendicant and cold petit pois soup with mint and smoked ricotta and wasabi; and me the full-blown portion of the pea soup - both very refreshing, even though it was snowing - SNOWING, wait a minute, it's almost May, oh well.

For mains, she chose the meat balls on house-made tagliatelles with an arabiatta sauce (basically tomatoes, tomato paste, onions and garlic) and I had warm mackerel cooked in white wine with tarragon and cooked tomatoes and lovely Sicilian panelles. 

We wound up sharing the ganache of chocolate with mint ice cream and crunchy granola (no kidding!)  Extremely good.

With an absolutely perfect bio Crozes Hermitage, no bottled water and two coffees the bill was 66 E.

As I was sitting waiting for my dining partner, the lovely wait-person asked if I'd like to see the evening menu which was suitable for tapas and aperos as well as a full meal and I said sure.  Then as we were exiting a very tall guy, who had been behind the counter opened the door for us and said "Goodbye" in English.  Hey wait a minute, an American?  Yes?  David Lyon lives practically across the street, read my blog to see what's in fashion now and renovated this place.  He and Jordan Bischoff have really scored.

Go?  I'll be back for dinner (shush) some night I have to be somewhere the next day.

Le Moulin de la Galette in the 18th: Ho hum, beautiful setting, tourist menu, but all French folks.

Prequel: Yesterday, eating with my old pal the Real Food Critic, he asked "Where are you eating tomorrow" and I answered "Le Moulin de la Galette," "Ah, Le Moulin de la Galette, lovely setting, cursed restaurant."  "Yes", I said "But they have a chef from MaSa in B/B which I loved....[and] a new team of two long time friends - Cedric Barbier, talented entrepreneur...[who] has lived in Montmartre for several years...[and] "'Doudou' (Nicolas Tourneville)...chef ambassador of French gastronomy and owner of the restaurant Le Metis in Bali;....[and they have a] loving respect of traditions."    Yah, now either that means the classic dishes, blanquettes, boeuf bourguignon and crepes, or classic dishes updated like the pot-au-feu at La Bourse et la Vie, or it means 1950's string beans and roast chicken.  Soon which of these will be illuminated, as said Jonathan Safran Foer, which indeed it was.

4.0 Le Moulin de la Galette, in the 18th, 83, rue Lepic in the 18th, 01.46.06.84.77, (Metro: you gotta be kidding? use the Montmartrebus), open 7 days for dinner, closed Mondays-Wednesdays for lunch, is the first place my old friend, the French diplomat (quick lesson: American diplomat = commercial attache, French diplomat = spy) took us too after we bought a place nearby.  It was charming then, (we ate in the inner garden), and it's charming now; then it was an Italian joint, afterwards revived by the gastronomic King of Montmartre, Antoine Heerah, think Beauvilliers, Chamarré de Montmartre, Clocher de Montmartre; now in the same skin but with a very uninteresting carte.

My friend, a guy who does food tours, which could have included this place, if it turned out to be good, ordered the chicken with tabouli (the chicken was cold and so blah, it was indeed classic, the gold standard for blah; the

Le Moulin de la Galette in the 18th: Ho hum, beautiful setting, tourist menu, but all French folks.

Prequel: Yesterday, eating with my old pal the Real Food Critic, he asked "Where are you eating tomorrow" and I answered "Le Moulin de la Galette," "Ah, Le Moulin de la Galette, lovely setting, cursed restaurant."  "Yes", I said "But they have a chef from MaSa in B/B which I loved....[and] a new team of two long time friends - Cedric Barbier, talented entrepreneur...[who] has lived in Montmartre for several years...[and] "'Doudou' (Nicolas Tourneville)...chef ambassador of French gastronomy and owner of the restaurant Le Metis in Bali;....[and they have a] loving respect of traditions."    Yah, now either that means the classic dishes, blanquettes, boeuf bourguignon and crepes, or classic dishes updated like the pot-au-feu at La Bourse et la Vie, or it means 1950's string beans and roast chicken.  Soon which of these will be illuminated, as said Jonathan Safran Foer, which indeed it was.

4.0 Le Moulin de la Galette, in the 18th, 83, rue Lepic in the 18th, 01.46.06.84.7701.46.06.84.77, (Metro: you gotta be kidding? use the Montmartrebus), open 7 days for dinner, closed Mondays-Wednesdays for lunch, is the first place my old friend, the French diplomat (quick lesson: American diplomat = commercial attache, French diplomat = spy) took us too after we bought a place nearby.  It was charming then, (we ate in the inner garden), and it's charming now; then it was an Italian joint, afterwards revived by the gastronomic King of Montmartre, Antoine Heerah, think Beauvilliers, Chamarré de Montmartre, Clocher de Montmartre; now in the same skin but with a very uninteresting carte.

My friend, a guy who does food tours, which could have included this place, if it turned out to be good, ordered the chicken with tabouli (the chicken was cold and so blah, it was indeed classic, the gold standard for blah; the quinoa supposedly tabouli-style, was not) while I had a pretty well-sourced, well-cooked, tender Angus hanger steak with pretty sub-normal frites.

Our bill, with one bottle of quite good Cahors, decent bread, and no butter or bottled water, was 83 E a couple.

Go?  I suppose if marooned on the top during the Second Commune of Montmartre during the week, when lunch is 28 E, but I'm afraid with the same boring menu, yes.  As long as one sticks to the beef and wine.

tabouli, don't ask) while I had a pretty well-sourced, well-cooked, tender Angus hanger steak with pretty sub-normal frites.

Our bill, with one bottle of quite good Cahors, decent bread, and no butter or bottled water, was 83 E a couple.

Go?  I suppose if marooned on the top during the Second Commune of Montmartre during the week, when lunch is 28 E, but I'm afraid with the same boring menu, yes.  As long as one sticks to the beef and wine.

But on the way out, I looked at the dozens of folks taking photos, and yes, it's impressive, despite today's headline "Tiens, l'hiver est deja de retour."

Prequel: Yesterday, eating with my old pal the Real Food Critic, he asked "Where are you eating tomorrow" and I answered "Le Moulin de la Galette," "Ah, Le Moulin de la Galette, lovely setting, cursed restaurant."  "Yes", I said "But they have a chef from MaSa in B/B which I loved....[and] a new team of two long time friends - Cedric Barbier, talented entrepreneur...[who] has lived in Montmartre for several years...[and] "'Doudou' (Nicolas Tourneville)...chef ambassador of French gastronomy and owner of the restaurant Le Metis in Bali;....[and they have a] loving respect of traditions."    Yah, now either that means the classic dishes, blanquettes, boeuf bourguignon and crepes, or classic dishes updated like the pot-au-feu at La Bourse et la Vie, or it means 1950's string beans and roast chicken.  Soon which of these will be illuminated, as said Jonathan Safran Foer, which indeed it was.

4.0 Le Moulin de la Galette, in the 18th, 83, rue Lepic in the 18th, 01.46.06.84.7701.46.06.84.77, (Metro: you gotta be kidding? use the Montmartrebus), open 7 days for dinner, closed Mondays-Wednesdays for lunch, is the first place my old friend, the French diplomat (quick lesson: American diplomat = commercial attache, French diplomat = spy) took us too after we bought a place nearby.  It was charming then, (we ate in the inner garden), and it's charming now; then it was an Italian joint, afterwards revived by the gastronomic King of Montmartre, Antoine Heerah, think Beauvilliers, Chamarré de Montmartre, Clocher de Montmartre; now in the same skin but with a very uninteresting carte.

My friend, a guy who does food tours, which could have included this place, if it turned out to be good, ordered the chicken with tabouli (the chicken was cold and so blah, it was indeed classic, the gold standard for blah; the quinoa supposedly tabouli-style, was not) while I had a pretty well-sourced, well-cooked, tender Angus hanger steak with pretty sub-normal frites.

Our bill, with one bottle of quite good Cahors, decent bread, and no butter or bottled water, was 83 E a couple.

Go?  I suppose if marooned on the top during the Second Commune of Montmartre during the week, when lunch is 28 E, but I'm afraid with the same boring menu, yes.  As long as one sticks to the beef and wine.

Fichon in the 18th: Nothing wrong, nothing notable.

5.0 Fichon, 98, rue Marcadet in the 18th, 09.70.94.52.14, closed Mondays (Metro: Jules Joffrin) calls itself a "cave a poisons" and that it is.  In its opening 3 weeks it has attracted score of locals, adding to the "boboization" as Rubin calls it, of our neighhood - cf the Table d'Eugene, Rallonge, Noun, Sunset and Hardware Societe.  It's located in a big space that was cookingware and houseware emporium, where those of us who didn't want to trek to BHV could find stuff we needed.  The lunch menu is quite a bargain; 17E for 2 dishes and 20 E for 3.

I arrived quite a bit earlier than my pal, the real food critic, and had a lovely glass of white Cotes de Blaye (3.5E) and he soon entered with his dog, a fluffy Scotty/terrier hybrid I venture.  We agreed to share everything; thus starting with unpeeled shrimp and an azuki mayo as well as haddock and herring.

Then we shared plates of squid stuffed with chorizo and other goodies, cod ceviche and a 3-some accompaniment of fresh greens, bouillon and a risotto-like grain that was too coldish to make it interesting.

At some point he asked me how I rate the place and I shrugged and he said "Yah, it's not much, I might come in the evening (see dinner carte above) if I still lived here, but......."

The bill with one bottle and 3 glasses of wine, not great bread (when we're sitting 50 feet from one of the quarter's best bakeries) but superb coffee, was 75.80 E for the couple.

Go?  He invented the phrase "It's not urgent" and we applied it again.  The name Fichon, we forgot to ask about, but must be a pun on "fish on."