Pre: Ah, the pain, the trouble, the obsessing! It's Sunday, I want real food not brunch, reachable in the strike, friends in the Marais, far 5th, understandably don’t want to venture out. What to do? Ok. There's this place opened besides the Paul Bert Flea Market by a woman born in St Ouen - trained at Frenchies, great reviews, much buzz, Le Fooding loves it, how can I go wrong? Well, let me count the ways.
5.0 Bonne Aventure, 59 rue des Rosiers (but don’t tell your Uber driver that, he’ll tell you it doesn’t exist, dumps me on the rue Pierre Curie), 01.49.48.09.69, closed Tuesdays (Metro: Porte de Clignancourt). I can’t book on line so I telephone “don’t worry, Sunday lunch, there’ll be lots of seats” - yah outside in the rain, which was packed.
But I enter at about a second before noon. Inside empty. “Ummmm, I couldn’t reserve.” “I tried, really I did.”
Looking at cheffe, guy says, “well, (looking at watch), we open for lunch (clock dings MIDI) ah, now.” “Can I get you something?” From then on, service sparkles!
A quick regard of the 3-3-3 carte tells me what I want and the super informative sommelier/barguy tells me what to drink. I start off with the quite nice micuit of foie gras, which Colette Spoiler Alert, has lettuces, etc., with brown ends (ergo she’ll never come.) Then I had the 7-hour leg of lamb, hummm, that’s right hummm, it could have been cardboard, veal hung several years, whale meat left abandoned, with one of those things that’s supposed to be healthy for us, yah fregola. Finally I had a chocolate cream, ok!
My bill, with coffee and 1/2 a bottle of wine (I took the remainder home) and rather good bread, comes to 36€.
Go? I don’t get it. Must be me. 30 30 year old's can’t be wrong, can they?