John Talbott's Paris

Les 3 Bornes in the 11th: Inventive carte, attentive service, interesting wines.

6.0 Les 3 Bornes, 71 rue Jean Pierre Timbaud in the 11th, closed Sundays, Mon-weds lunch, (Metro: Parmentier), 09.83.75.97.03, advertises itself as a farm to table, seasonal ingredients, etc.  Most Americans my age connect the word “bornes” to the 1954 card game Milles Bornes, which referred to those old red-topped, kilometer stones one saw on secondary highways long ago. But no, this refers to a mother, described as petillante, by Emmanuel Rubin, and two sons.  

The carte, straight out of an ancient typewriter it seems, is inventive, if not playful, full of items such as scallops and clementines, chestnuts and cepes and poitrines of pork and veal.

They started us off with milk fed pig bits in a Jerusalem artichoke soup that was interesting but needed something.  Then my fellow blogger had an crispy egg in a sauce of Jerusalem artichoke and I had a generous portion of baked foie gras with fall vegetables - both were interesting but needed something.

For mains, my dining partner had chicken with the aforementioned chestnuts and cepes and I had the pork belly stuffed with something; interesting, huge, but they needed something.  We finished up sharing an inventively shaped roast apple and cinnamon ice cream that didn’t need anything.

Our bill with 4 glasses of wine and 2 coffees was 97.40€.

Go?  How can you not love a place that serves a wine called “the land of the  dinosaurs” although there tended to be something missing and it wasn't salt, we tried that.”

Sausalito in the 9th: Who knew Marin county was bootlegger center?

6.8 Sausalito, 80 rue de Maubeuge in the 9th, 01.48.74.47.06, closed Saturday lunch, Sundays and Mondays, (Metro: Poissonniere) was a restaurant suggested by a friend from the Bay Area and I rejected it immediately writing something like “who needs California food in Paris?”  Then, after some deeper digging I found out it was named after the town because Sausalito had been a bootlegging Center on the west coast just like Buffalo was in the East.  Who knew?

The decor is wine heaven and the “menu” a 20€ 3-course 2-2-2 one from the chef ex-6 Paul Bert.

My oldest Yankee living-in-Paris friend and I ate on my Birthday (not a big one) and had a marvelous time. The youngsters around us also seemed to be enthusiastic.  She started with the magret de canard which she deemed “ok” and I had a “scotch egg” which I’d never heard of in my life - an egg surrounded by minced sausage with a breaded crust, my, quite different and nice.  Then we shared a leg and thigh of chicken, also quite nicely cooked, with what I really ordered it for - divine sautéed mushrooms, yum!  We ended up sharing a parfait of raspberries with a strawberry compote and a spectacular mini almond financier.

Our bill with a bottle and glass of wine and two coffees, was 71.80€.  Db’s kinda high, 73.2-85.4.

Go? Price/quality cannot be beat and at night there are a ton of small plates.

La Sirene de Lorette in the 9th: A wonderful, awful, overcharged meal.

Pre: You know you're off to a bad day when it's raining and your shoulders ache and the driver asks "why where you're going is it called Notre Dame de Lorette?" and you stammer, "ah Lorette, it's a town somewhere, in Normandy, the Loire, why do you ask?" "You're French"  he says.  "Streets are called Victor Hugo or .....  " And that was only the beginning.  He keeps talking, I say I'm deaf, stand-off.

So in the journalism dodge, you're taught to put the most important thing in the first line, and let the editor cut up from the end, so the best thing about this restaurant was the speculos cookie with the coffee at the end.  After that is was downhill or backwards or whatever.

 

4.5 La Sirene de Lorette, 47, rue Notre Dame de Lorette in the 9th, 01.45.26.66.66 (Metro: St. Georges), closed Sundays and Mondays, and in part, I went because of the news in lesrestos.com that:

“La cuisine est confiée au chef Arno Sainsot qui à travaillé à "L'Arpège" avec Alain Pasard et qui réalise ici de bien jolis plats. Selon la saison la carte annonce les huîtres ; ............ les Eperlans frits ;”

I said - "that's it, 6 Utah Beach oysters and fried eperlans," my dream meal, I'm going."  Well, not so fast John!

OK, so I enter but my wonderful tri-city, bicontinental pal is held up in traffic.  No problem, plenty of time to regard the carte.   Hummm, no eperlans.  "Madam, could you ask the chef if he has some eperlans tucked away in the back of the frigo?  She asks the front-guy, not the chef - "No."   Hummm, "Anything else fishy fried?" "No."

OK.  My friend arrives.  Looks at the menu.  Tomates tardives?  What's that?  Late tomatoes, tomatoes that missed the truck from Sicily, confited tomatoes?  How?  Salad?  Ok.  "How were they?"  "Fine."  Oh oh, meanwhile we had had a very nice amuse of chopped smoked fish with a mussel.  And I had 6 Utah Beach #2's with vinegar which had no shallots, OK.

We both had ordered sauteed cepes in a mushroom mousse, and we waited, and waited, and waited - just like the refugees in Casablanca, and they finally arrived. Big, thick, impressive looking cepes.  "A bit mushy don't you think," she said.  Mushy?  They were inedible.  No one asks "why didn't you eat them?"

I'm unfulfilled, so I order the chocolate ganache and the front room guy brings out this precious thin bottle to pour on part or all of it, that I figure is some sort of elixir of platinum or plutonium, but no, it's olive oil. Ok.  Lordy me.

Our bill - 108.50E for a bottle of water, two coffees. a bottle of red wine and two other glasses of Chardonnay - wait a minute, we didn't have 2 glasses, but OK, I'll grant them 5E for keeping us waiting so long for mushy mushrooms, if we'd had them.  It was loud as hell, the music was awful, and the db's = 74.7 amazingly.

Go?  I used to say to my wonderful American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology team, don't put in a grade until you've examined 2 or 3 candidates so you sense the top and bottom.  Well, here we see the bottom.

 

L’Avant Poste in the 10th: Guys clutching Le Fooding, dolls clutching LV’s, chefs clutching farm to table.

7.0 L’Avant Poste, 7 rue de la Fidelite in the 10th, 09.81.41.01.07, closed Sundays and Mondays (Metro: Gare de l’Est) is the second restaurant of the Les Resistants bunch, and was booked solidly with young’uns clutching either Le Fooding’s annual or Louis Vuitton’s.  The kitchen is not really open but rather a wooden shed inside the central room; infinitely cool, zen, calm.  Open kitchens here are called California; this was definitely “the Castro.”

The carte is quite simple: 2-3-2 and heavily tilted toward what your mother told you to eat not what you wanted.  Thus it was either a vegetable soup or shaved cabbage; mullet, vegetables or chicken; celery cream or a chou. My old colleague and I both went for the latter in each case.

The cabbage was boring but I suppose good for you and went on forever; the chicken was really crisp and delicious but the veggies with it boring; and the chou with caramel tasty, flavorful and worth finishing.

Our bill (while there was a wine list, they promoted one red and one white from JP Rietsch [everything here is identified by farm, sea-setting, vineyard, etc.] in various quantities, on the carte, of which we had 2x50 cl of Red) plus 2 coffees which were supergood, and paid 87€.  Db’s 84.3

Go?  Now, you might think with my rating of 7/10 and my snarky comments about veggies, that I’d advise you not to choose farm to table over innovation, but the crispy chicken, the chou dessert, coffee and red wine won over my heart.  My mother is long gone and can’t find fault with my eating habits anymore, so......

Origines in the 8th: From the logo to the finish, one senses the hand of Julien Boscus.

7.6 Origines by Julien Boscus, 6, rue de Ponthieu in the 8th, 09.86.41.63.04, closed weekends (Metro: Franklin D. Roosevelt) is the new restaurant of the former chef at Les Climats and is strikingly familiar (the logo, huge wine list, dishes) yet different (mystery door like the original Spring or the Atelier de Joel R., less space and thus higher noise level).

I, like everyone else who hasn’t been there before, walked around the block trying to find the door, until the maitre saw me and waves at the magic sensor to let you enter.  From then on everything is clear.

My longtime co-eater friend and I both saw merit in the 44€ 3-course menu, which started off with radishes in a cervelle de canut sauce, no, not brains of King Canute, but a complex sauce of fromage blanc, chives and shallots.  “What’s with the French and radishes?” He asked.  I had no answer.  Ok.  Then, he had a starter of roasted vegetables and citrus with house made ricotta and I had cold mussels mixed with what I swear were diced potatoes but supposedly were really cauliflower bits in a curry mousseline sauce topped with dill - very very nice!

Then he had the cod, not raie as originally on the menu, facon Grenobloise with capers, yuzu and spinach and I had the game of my dreams - a traditional palombre (wood pigeon, ring dove) tourte, enriched by gamey foie gras and Rouennaise sauce with seasonal salad, including poire William slices.

We shared plates of St. Nectare and a vacherin Laura which seemed like a pretty usual wonderful kiwi meringue vacherin.

Our bill with bottles of wine and water and two coffees, was 142€.  Db’s were a loud 80.

Go?  I rated it 7.6; and when I got home saw that I had given Les Climats the same score last week.  Creepy eh?  Anyway, yes, go!

Bistrot Le Square in the 19th: there are still these great quirky little places serving gastronomic food high above the city.

6.9 Bistrot Le Square, 7 Square Bolivar and 27 rue Clavel for the less spry, in the 19th, open 7/7, (Metro: Pyramides), 01.45.96.05.66, has had a makeover and new chef since the rentree and is a place my dear friend in the 20th and I in the 18th are equidistant from.  It’s apparently well-known for it’s spacious terrace and cocktails but there were enough suits and ties to convince me that it’s not just for the neighborhood hipsters.  Every dish had about 4-6 ingredients and I worried about that but I shouldn’t have because it wasn't as fussy as it sounded.

It being a brisk fall day, the chestnut soup was perfect for my friend, while I was very happy with my salmon tartare.  She then had a chicken ballotine flavored through with chorizo with piquillo cream, roast peppers and garlicked sweet potatoes while I had octopus, which hadn't been beaten to a pulp enough but was still quite tasty.  We wound up sharing a black chocolate fondant dessert.

Our bill, with a bottle and glass of wine and two coffees was 68.50€.  I measured the noise level but it was insignificant, we could easily talk with one another.

Go?  Well, it’s highly sophisticated food on a quiet street with a stunning view but is a bit out of the way for almost anyone.  But make no mistake, it's bistronomic food, a word BTW coined by a former inhabitant of the area.

Batifol in the 10th: Finally a brasserie I can recommend without reservations.

Pre: I’m not a restaurant historian, just an old guy with an imperfect memory.  But I do recall, with the help of the Internet, that between 1988 and 1998 that there were Batifols all over town and suddenly they were gone or transformed to Buffalo Grill’s, which I never “accepted the privilege” of visiting, as Victor Lazlo almost said in Casablanca. Well, apparently the family of the Joulies, (Chartier, Sebillion, Boeuf Courrone, and Wepler) decided to turn the clock back and return to the name, fashion and food served at the old Strasbourgeoise site.

6.8 Batifol, 5, place du 8 mai 1945, across from the Gare de l’Est, open 7/7, 01.42.05.20.02, (Metro: Gare de l’Est) looks like every other red brasserie across from every other train station in Paris, or France for that matter, but don’t be fooled.  From the moment I stepped inside, I sensed something different.  The welcome wasn’t forced, the staff seemed seasoned and the grey haired guy on my side of the room, touched my shoulder, leaned over and said “what you really want is the pot-au-feu,” boy!  Now I knew this was the old Batifol’s “signature dish” but I also knew I was around the corner from Schmid’s, the King of Choucroute and knowing I’d be overwhelmed with the amount of food, I’d brought a very large Tupperware container.

I started, though, with some classically prepared snails which were just right despite rather pathetic bread in which to sop up their precious parsley butter.  Then, having sort of convinced my co-diner to have the pot-au-feu, of which's os a moelle I can swear by, I did indeed tackle the Choucroute Garni (when the Creusets appeared she gasped “It’s enough for a family” to which I added “for a week.”  To finish up, I ordered a creme caramel which was again, classic, correct and met my needs.

Our bill, with a bottle and glass of wine and two coffees, was 83€ - decibels not worth measuring it was such a well-sound-proofed setting.

Go?  While I loved Pardi a few meters away, earlier this week, my advice is to save it for the Gare du Nord passengers and come here for the Gare de l’Est ones.

Bistro S in the 12th: Another real modern French bistro driven by another superb Japanese chef.

7.2 Bistro S, 7 rue Saint-Nicolas in the 12th, 01.43.43.49.40, closed Sundays and Mondays (Metro: Ledru Rollin) got my attention when Rubin gave it a rare 3 hearts and I learned that the chef, one Shimpei Oie, had passed through the kitchens of Stella Maris and Le Volnay.  My friend, the ultra-flanneur, had snared a banquette as requested and we buckled in for the ride.

The menu at 29€, even on Saturday, for 2-3-3 choices was intriguing.  The fit guy started with a soup of sweet potatoes that he suspected had a hint of brown butter and there ensued a long discussion with our two charming front room folks, consulting the chef and reporting back.  I was just as happy with my smoked tuna tartare covered with spicy greens and black sesame with an egg.  

Then he had a piece of seared seriole fish, translation = greater amberjack (huh?) - yellowtail (double huh?) - on a mushroomy risotto and I had lamb two ways (loved the poitrine-like one, hated the confited or 7-hour one), both our mains, my friend noted, were unusually plated on warm dishes.

He wound up the meal with a mandarine/cream parfait and I had a dark chocolate quenelle, both superb.

Our bill, with a pot Lyonnais of a nice Cotes du Rhône, a small bottled water and two coffees, was 88€. Db’s not worth measuring.

Go?  Absolutely, no ands, ifs or buts.

 

Pardi in the 10th: astonishing food to have between trains in a closed market.

Pre: As we were paying up and leaving I asked the organizer of our meal how I would sell this hole-in-the-wall joint in a marketplace in the 10th to my readers: “Context, John, put it in context.”  Ok.

7.0 Pardi, in the Marche St-Quentin, 85 bis boulevard de Magenta in the 10th, (Metros: Gare du Nord & de l’Est), 01.42.46.55.16, open 9-20h except 15h on Sundays and closed on Mondays, is a place my friend recommended for another friend arriving in Paris at 7 AM and leaving at noon, that serves good food at reasonable prices.

One enters from the rue Chabrol side passing flower shops, butchers, bakers, bio veggies, seafood, prepared Moroccan, etc, etc, to chance upon this unassuming food counter with stools, a couple of high tables and a shared food court.  Et voila!  My friends brought cushions for my skinny butt and sore back and I was all set.

The ardoise and carte are divided into about a dozen tapas (the chef Jean-Sebastien Trombino is Basque but has served his time with Eric Frechon), 3 mains and 3 desserts and the tapas are really so generous one can feast only on these if so desired.   Thus we started with 3 bowls of spreadable caviar d’aubergines, hummus-like lentils with sesame & artichoke and nuts, Padron peppers and sautéed cepes with spicy scallion slices and arugula as well as outstanding bread (they co-own an adjacent boulangerie).

One of us then had the unrubbery, unsandy, razor clams (available only on some weekends) cooked in very good oil while two of us had the perfectly cooked confited beef on polenta.  We ended up sharing a chocolate cake with caramel sauce and figs.

Our bill with one bottle of water and three glasses of wine plus 2 coffees was 118.20 or 78.80€ a couple.

Go?  “Context John.”  When this guy moves to a real restaurant, he’ll be flooded and I’ll be back.  Until then, I'll recommend it to folks changing trains who want really good food.