Prelude: one of my most challenging jobs is to find new and good restaurants to go to with my friend of mine of 64 years who lives and works in the Marais (yah, I know, if this is my toughest barrier, I’ve got it pretty easy).
7.4 Carbon, 14, rue de Charlot (Is not named for Charlie Chaplin but some guy who executed another guy in 1626, there) in the 3rd, closed Sundays and Mondays, 01.42.72.49.12, (Metro: faggedaboudid) has a sign on the door that says “an ode to nature,” whatever that means. When I entered I was welcomed warmly but quickly realized the horrible and incredibly loud American music would drown out any conversation, so I asked for it to be turned down, which it was .0001 decibels to the raised thumbs of my like aged co-diners (there was no one young in the place, so the usual excuse “the young people like it this way,” just didn’t hold water. PS. We had to ask 4 times in English and French (they are bilingual as was the carte and clientele.) The decor is what I call post-flood brute, unpainted concrete, with plants cleverly suspended on platforms 6 feet over our heads, in case of flooding I assume.
Ok. The carte is not exciting, but wait. The stuffed encornet with veggies and croquettes with the best mayonaisse I’ve had in years we’re outstanding.
Then my great friend who bicycled with me down the Loire in 1953 had the lieu jaune, which seems to be all the rage these days, and I had pork with roasted apples that while classic and perhaps trite, was just right for a chilly afternoon.
My friend wanted to hurry off to her cabinet but I insisted on a chocolate dessert with a merengue wafer and I was so right to insist - Ab Fab!
With fine bread, no bottled water, a bottle of Ardeche and one espresso, our bill was 106.50€?
Go? Without hesitation! Despite the goddamn music at 73.8 DB’s plus.
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