Pre: People ask me how to find a small, intimate bistro which is “undiscovered”, where there are no Yankees (in Paris that means Americans, not descents of Gettysburg’s 20th Maine or 15th Massachusetts) and where there is real food, neither Metro nor frou-frou). Well, I have some tips.
6.5 Sanguine, 41, rue du Ruisseau in the 18th, 01.42.64.35.19, closed Sunday and Monday (Metro: Jules Joffrin), opened in June in a spot that's had a troubled history, bad feng shui? Maybe. I’ve been on a roll this rentree and so when I heard about the shutdown of the entire Parisian public transportation system today, i remembered that a new place in the nabe had opened that was a tough walk from home, but doable. So I telephoned last night. “Will you be open tmrw?, Of course, I’d like to make a reservation.” Smart move, because by the time I got to coffee, every seat, inside and out, was filled.
The menu/carte is simple, 3-3-3, 22€ for three dishes, wine starting at 28€ a bottle. I liked it already. The host, perhaps owner, was terrific and handled the tables inside and out flawlessly. I started out with 3 giant oysters (the ardoise said #2 but they were bigger) with chopped cukes and coriander; then had the crispy skinned grondin with fall veggies in a bouillabaisse sauce; and finished up with a lovely chocolate mousse topped with blueberries.
My bill, with a 1/2 bottle of Morgan and a coffee, amounted to 38€ or 76€ a couple. Db’s = 82.1. Handicapped accessible with a big step up.
Go? I’ll be coming back; this is the kind of place that will never get NYT/Figaro/Michelin notice. It’s just one more glorious find in a far away neighborhood. Which is fine by me.
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