John Talbott's Paris

Mensae in the 19th: Su, super, superbe.

8.0 Mensae, 23, rue Melingue in the 19th (Metro: Pyrenees) 01.53.19.80.98, closed Sundays and Mondays, is the brain-child of two "Top-Chefs" and what a great idea it is.  Spare on the outside, and inside too, but with a carte that makes the mouth water just looking at it.

My dining partner ordered the 20 E lunch menu that commenced with a superb fresh herring and veggie "salad" and I ordered foie gras raviolis with a wild mushroom sauce that tasted almost like truffles.

My fellow blogger then had the crispy skinned poitrine of pork while I had what was surely the tastiest lemon sole I've ever had with a beurre blanc sauce that was neither too sweet nor too salty - perfect.

Even though I hadn't cleaned my plate I wanted to test the chef's desserts and ordered a pear that came with ice cream with a caramel beurre sale that again was not too sweet - just right.

Our bill with three glasses of wine, no bottled water and one coffee was 95.50 E.  dB=81.4

Go back?  As soon as possible.  After we were done chef Kevin d'Andrea dropped by and we could hardly express our delight; this guy is a talent.

Le Balcon in the 19th: Ars longa, vita brevis or Life is short. Eat dessert first.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5.5 Le Balcon (6th floor of the Philharmonie de Paris), 221 ave Jean Jaures in the 19th, open Tuesday-Saturday and some other times when there are performances (Tramway: Porte de Pantin) 01.40.32.30.01 is a stunningly spectacular space (think Windows on the World) in a building that comes out of the ground like a vision (think Frank Gehry's Louis Vuitton Building).  Colette and friend wanted to go hear some Beethoven (not on Mezzo, Mezzo HD or Brava) and inveigled our long-time friend, the sister of a highup Minster of Culture guy,  to snare the last 3 tickets in the Hall.  After schlepping around forever with my cane, we eventually found the elevator and walked into blinding sun on the 6th floor where the chairs were made up like Papageno's usual outfits in the Magic Flute.  The vista is stunning and on a warm day or evening one can go outside to take pictures (some were out there to smoke, alas).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We four took a long look at the carte and all decided that a full meal at 7 PM after big lunches was not in the cards.  Our wait-guy was theatrically appalled - how could we not have some of their great charcuterie? - he was persuasive, very persuasive - he should work for the start-up - but he failed to sell that Edsel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, Colette ordered todays quiche (salmon which she loves) and the other three of us had the Fish n Chips (I know, I know, never order the same things, especially away from their native habitats.)  All were disappointing -.25 points are deducted for having no vinegar for the chips.  Ach, who's the chef - research shows it's Karil Lopez who at Le Cristal de Sel fooled me once; I guess I deserved him fooling me twice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then dessert time and the ladies let loose - a chocolate craquant with nut ice cream, an aspic of agrumes and (what our wily, great salesman, but subtle waiter insisted on) a macaronade that was truly outstanding.

Any problems John?   oh yes, just as we were seated at our table by the window,  loud jazz music assaulted us.  We asked to have it turned down, our fine waiter fixed the problem.  BUT later the same noise came out of the loud speaker. 

Our bill, with a bottle and glass of wine, no bottled water, good bread and 2 espressos, was 139.50 or 69.75 E a couple.

Go?  For ars, for dessert, for our waiter, for the setting but for the food, nah.

Grand Central in the 19th: Such a great spot but few of my readers will go.

6.3 The Grand Central in the old city Mortuary 104 at 5, rue Curial in the 19th, 09.51.22.76.44, closed Mondays, (Metro: Riquet) occupies the space of Les Grandes Tables du 104, I place I thought rather well of, but apparently didn't survive economically in this wonderful mixed cultural space in the faraway 19th.  Well, it's been revived by the gang from the adjoining Cafe Cache and I think quite well.

As I was watching the dancers in the huge stage that they practice on, I was not sure what to order but finally settled on a lovely piece of cod and roasted corn with thin strips of zucchini; then some ice cream with a cone.

My bill, for no bottled water, 50 cl of a nice house Cheverny, pathetic bread and a coffee, was 40.80 E.

Go?  If you have any excuse to be way up here in the 19th, sure.

Ô Divin in the 19th: Now a real bistrot and quite a good one at that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6.5 Ô Divin, 35, rue des Annelets in the 19th, (Metro: Botzaris) 01.40.40.79.41, was a fine natural/etc wine place opened about 3 years ago in part of a space (more about that later) I recall reading that folks like David Bowie and Joe Cocker (and, alright... Serge Gainsbourg) recorded in.  It's been on my famous long list for all those three years but last Sunday, when I read in the JDD version femina, that Naoufel Zaïm had reconfigured the place (to have 19 covers - small eh?, but again more later) and brought in Mathieu Moity – whose cv looks like he moved through some of the great kitchens in Europe - Noma, Chateaubriand, Bras, etc., I suggested to a fellow-blogger-contributing editor at Paris by Mouth who primarily reviews wine - we go, he leapt at the chance to return.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I made the reservation in my name and got there a bit before he did and was greeted warmly by M. Zaïm who didn't know me from Adam, but who offered me a charming white while I waited and when my famous new friend showed up, the spot-lights went up exponentially.  My oh my.  Anyway, the carte is limited but as you will see, good and 3 courses for 20 E reminds me of what Eric Frechon did for 190 FF around the corner a few years ago.  The wine list is beyond my ken but met with my companion's approval.

 

 

We both chose a starter of marinated chinchard (saurel or horse mackerel) with gingerfied beets and raddish slices (which I immediately attributed to influences from both Inaki Aizpitarte and René Redzepi); then I had I the merlu with fennel, eggplant caviar (this guy really has a touch with veggies) and an emulsion of - can you believe it? - bulots? - and he had what was to me the best piece of beef of the summer, with artichokes and potatoes.  Then both of us had the clafoutis of plums.

Our bill was not itemized, with good reason, because I suspect my friend (and I) got comp'd to a lot, because 83 E for what we had in food and wine and coffee doesn't totally compute, but who's complaining?

Now back to the space issues.  The restaurant at present has 19 seats, but if you will look at the fascade there are those red and white things - ah ha - that's the terrace and studio where David Bowie et al probably did more than drink natural wines.  It's huge, so it's the dream/maybe intention/maybe established plan to expand greatly into this very big building.  Neat!  Nifty!  I'll be back.

Go?  With my blessings my good readers, and until next time, happy eating.

La Rotonde Villette in the 19th: Superb setting; OK food.

5.0 La Rotonde Villette, Place de Stalingrad aka 6-8, place de la bataille de Stalingrad in the 19th (Metro: Stalingrad & Jaures), 01.80.48.33.40 (but they have an online reservation system - whoa!) is a place I and I suspect you've been going past for years.  While it was designed by Ledoux in 1788 as one of Paris' toll houses, since the Commission du Vieux Paris moved out of it in 2004, it has not really functioned.  Why this history lesson? 

Well, because Ledoux and his constructions are and were quite amazing and you should see the mock-ups of his toll-houses and wall around Paris which are dazzlingly displayed at the Royal Saltworks in Arc et Senans, one of the most undervisited and underappreciated but glorious sights in France and this place represents one of Ledoux's remaining gifts to us.  A culinary footnote: some were called barrieres, hence the Barriere de Clichy, birthplace some think, of nouvelle cuisine, where Verger and Loiseau introduced many of us old guys to fine food long ago.  But back to the present.

Someone had the notion of reviving it, a while back, and the interior is bright, light and fun.

How much fun?  Well, how many times have you seen Charles Baudelaire and Jimi Hendrix's names on the same list of anything (yes, it's a multi-cultural center too).

 

And someone had the bright idea of getting Gilles Choukroun (he of the Café des Delices, MBC and countless menu designing efforts at places ranging from the MiniPalais to the Café Very) to "do" the carte which is reasonable and smart.  It calls itself a Brasserie: Festive et Creative and I guess it is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now the food is not as dazzling as the surround, especially with screaming kids closely contained under a stone dome (I guess these families forgot to read Pamela Druckerman's "French Children Don't Throw Food," but the potiron soup my companion had was better than average and my roulade of beef with Thai spices and rocket salad was Choukroun at his best.

Then we both had the entrecote which was barely average and the preparation adequate (Grand Mere used lots of ham and potatoes apparently) but there were no fireworks here.

Our bill with a bottle of Burgundy, no bottled water and two coffees was 78.20 E.

Go?  If you live nearby and have kids to feed on a weekend (I'm talking to you P.,) indeed, if only for the supercool toilets (below).

 

Le P^RK Ch^umont in the 19th: Cool design, cool menu, cool food.

5.0 Le P^RK Ch^umont (I'm trying to do the A's as best I can to convey cool, but failing badly with the M), 84, Av. Secretan, crnr of Mathurin Moreau in the 19th, 01.42.06.44.21, open 7-2 AM 7/7, apparently crept in on "little cat feet" (thank you Carl Sandburg) 2 months ago, but one of my eagle-eyed food finders who runs her dog in the Butte every day, spotted it and said "it's open Sundays, it has brunch BUT also regular stuff, shall we try it?"

From top (bar, wall tiles and tables), down the smooth banister, to the bottom (toilettes) - it shouts "cool!" "Really cool"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I said, there are two roads to cool for Sunday lunch; brunch and regular.  Now as a brunch hater, I hesitate to judge their brunch carte but it looked pretty cool: 4 of them - Brit, their own, Scandinavian and Mediterranean; likewise 4 regular lunch items: a 1/2 cocquelet, beef, complexo-burger and Caesar with chicken.

Madame, the dog-runner, had the complexo-burger with thick fries and a salad; why do I call it that?  Because it had mushrooms, cheese, ham or bacon (I stopped listening after that) and I had the chickie-lickie.  Both were cool; cool, yah cool, as in the Free Dictionary's fourth definition: "Marked by indifference,....."

They had a cool wine list and we had a cool wine, all mentions of which except for the food as in definition 6 a. "Excellent; first-rate...." and cool coffees.

Our bill with two dishes, a bottle of wine and two coffees, all cool in one sense or other, was 60.10 E.

Go?  Well, it was a Sunday, maybe the chief chef was cooling, let's give them the benefit of the doubt.  If you live near the Butte, try it on a weekday night and report back; you'll find it cool for sure.

Le Faitout* in the 19th: What was it my father said, "yah gets what yah pays for." Mom "Be nice."

-0.2 Le Faitout*, 23 rue Simon-Bolivar in the 19th, 01.42.08.07.09, closed Mondays (Metro: ah, maybe Pyrenees, #26 bus better) was a place I had on my list, I admit it, I confess, it was there, right there on he list and I will not blame my fellow blogger Aude Baron for putting it into my pigeon brain.  When I was stretched to come up with a place in the 19th where an impressive new pastry chef worked that she could get to during her lunch break and after my first idea fell thru (ever heard of a place open every night but only lunches on weekends?), I came back to Le Faitout*, so John, what's this asterisk stuff all aboit, some Roger Maris* thing?  Minute papillon.

 
I enter gasping for breath exactly on time (I knew she had only a 1.15 hour break) and survey the surround; it's a dump, really a dump, what have I done?  The banquette seat is patched with duck-tape (which stops the spring inside from pronging you where you haven't asked to be pronged), the toilet has no seat and they bring water in a wine bottle without being asked.  At this point, my friend Greg, would whisper or maybe even shout "RUN AWAY!"  Ah, but I didn't.

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I've quoted my father, who frequently said "yah gets what yah pays for" but my mother would reiterate time and again that "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."  It was that sort of a childhood that leads to this sorry story.  So I'll be nice.

I ordered "defensively," that is, things that even a crappy hash house couldn't screw up. First, frogs' legs provencale, a no-brainer except that they were on the border between tasteless and inedible (Dad "you dumb jerk" said fondly, trust me; Mom "the chopped cooked tomatoes were very nice," which they were, indeed they were outstanding).  And then I recalled last night Channel 2 piece on the fact that almost 100% of what's served in restos comes sous-vide or frozen or dessicated from emporia like Metro.

Madame had an enormous salad with a block of chevre/courgettes lasagna that she did her best to have half of.  And I had the priciest piece of beef on the menu with a supposed Sechuan pepper sauce (1.5 E and 1.0 E more than the others offered), ordered "BLU" - (My father - "Ach du lieber" aka "you got yourself into this;" my mother "Oh Johnnie, aren't the fresh, uncooked, nicely sliced vegetables tasty and gratinated potatoes superb?,"  which I must admit they were.  End result; I schlepped 98.5% of the beef out the door into the poubelle after eating my veggies.

Dessert?  Are you kidding?; sorry Mom, "Thank you, the tomatoes, carrots, squash and other vegetables were wonderful."  Iowan Dad: "Well, it was beef, beef can't be bad unless it was from Nebraska."

The bill, with a bottle of quite decent wine of the moment, awful bread, so-so coffee and indifferent if not sullen service by a waitperson sporting the name of either her lover or self in technicolor in half-view, was 55.50 E; ah Dad, you were right "yah gets what yah pays for."

Go?  I'm the parent and grandparent and even the "decider" now and I say "no way."

*Faitout means stewpot, appropriate? I dunno'.

Les Grades Tables du 104 in the 19th: Not as dazzling, merely very good.

 
Les Grandes Tables du 104 is a place I was dazzled by a couple of weeks ago and ferried Colette and a favorite cousin to today for a repeat. 

 
There were several changes;  the place's primary salle was packed, the menu was totally different (I know it says soir but it was for lunch), the menu now clearly now says it is that of 3-star chef, Fabrice Biasiolo of Astaffort in Gascony but G/M said October 6th he's due to soon run l'hôtel du Square there and an industry newsletter reveals that his Auberge en Gascogne reopens early next year - busy guy.  On the other hand, several things remain the same: they have another 20-hour meat, the wines are still reasonable and the crowd is very young and eclectic.

 

 

 

Our cuz D. had the veggie tempura at the top, Colette had a butternut squash soup with chorizo and I went for the globulous veal's head with an acidic peanut sauce - all quite tasty.

 

 

Then for mains from top to bottom we had the cote de veau, merlu and 20-hour beef; not nearly as dazzling as last visit.

 

 

The desserts, however, were another matter altogether; back to the dazzling level with a chocolate wrap, banana "smoothie" [I kid not] and a "tiramisu" that was not only deconstructed but of which each part astonished.

I do not know what our bill was this time since D. graciously picked it up in return for some crummy advice, crummy chicken and a crummy carnet of Metro-Bus tickets.  But the "menu" at lunch remains 28 E.

Go?  If you're going to a cultural event at 104 I'd say yes but I do hope Fabrice Biasiolo returns to shape up the sagging middle of the menu.

 

Les Grandes Tables du 104, aka Street Food, in the 19th: Wow, wow (and need I say it again) Wow, for a place you'll never go to.

7.0 Les Grandes Tables du 104, aka Street Food, 104, rue d'Aubervilliers / 5, rue Curial, (Métro : Riquet, Crimée) in the 19th, 01.40.37.10.07, closed Sundays after 6 PM and Mondays, is a place you'll never go to, silly you, so stop reading.  It's located in the most multi-ethnic (black, brown, yellow, white; scarved, yamulked, turbaned; sexy, discreet, boringly clothed,) multi-lingual (French, Arabic, Thai, Chinese, Sri Lankan, Hebrew, some -khstan) area of the city almost unreachable except via the #7 Metro and Transverse Ney/Flandre, # 54 and 60 (thus 10 minutes for me) buses.

I went in February to the Cafe Cache in the same huge space and it was kinda kicky.

Half of Paris that day and today was on the floor here doing some version of totally silent Tai Chi/Tai Chi Chuan/Supreme Ultimate Fist - cool eh?

In any case, I'd invited the French friend I've known longest, since she help us paint our brownstone in New York, 45 years ago, in return for Colette's super meals and lodging with a half-dozen other Froggie squatters; inviting her largely because she said she was "broke" after buying locavore veggies since July in Normandy and her being at the end of the #60 line.

Backstory:  You may not have noticed, but as a Franco-media-addict I had seen an article in Figaro September 1st by Alexandra Michot on restos in museums and other cultural sites that stated that the long anticipated opening of a resto called Street food, at 104 (the old city mortuary) would occur September 21st and another article gave the impressive provenance of the owners and chef. 

More trivia: The old city mortuary was huge, with room for those wonderful hearse/carriages drawn by black-draped horses (think JFK's funeral); and after it became obsolete, the city (foolish they) took it over and sought to convert it into a multi-arts center with among other things, drawing and sculpture classes, dance, jazz, other music, a haute gamme women's store, really cool librarie/book store and a cafe and resto. 

Yet more: Well, filling these multiple stories and huge spaces (recall, they had carriages and horses for the entire city) stretched the imagination, budget and patience of our wonderful Mayor (whose hand I have actually shaken) who realized he had pulled off Paris Plage, La Nuit Blanche and the Velib but (after the bike lanes, a semi-disaster because delivery trucks defeat their purpose), the Mortuary had gone one bridge too far, drawing not the crowds of locals or vistors or distants needed but paltry bunches of folk. 

Addendum: So a new team arrived.  And here's where we come in.  My buddy's Bro was a top-runner for the job of running the whole show but lucky he, he lost out; lucky because this is a nigh-impossible task - the place is nowhere, is nowhere enroute to nowhere, there's no parking, it's semi-dangerous (which no place in Paris is) and it's nowhere.  The new gang induced a team that had been successful (if I understood our gracious host's tour) at cultural sites in Marseille, Roubaix - Friche La Belle de Mai and La Condition Publique respectively - and elsewhere (maybe), to set up a high class resto; when I went by in February it looked really hip, cool and huge.  Gotta go.  And Bro filled Sis in on all the gory details.

We enter.  Great menu; 28 E for dinner and weekends, 17 E for weekday lunches for three dishes and the menu changes regularly.  The choices were most difficult to make.  And the wine runs from 17-70 E a bottle; also available by the glass and carafe (about which more later).

OK; forget what I'm going to tell you, because the printed menu doesn't do them justice as they were described - just look at the pix - a nage (my word) of razor clams and squid with potatoes and piquillos and a mushroom soup with combawa (yah we had to ask too - sort of Pacific Ocean limes) and veggies - both were simply delicious.

 
 
Her dish was described as a 20 hour pork with soy and mustard and mine as brochettes of pintade and poulpe - both with (a choice) of incredible veggies - once again look at the pix, forget the description - they were terrific.

The desserts were probably the most standard of all items; wok'd figs and diced pineapple; merely very very good.

Our bill after a bottle of wine, fine bread, two good coffees (offered twice before they knew who I was) and ahhhhh, ahhhhh, well we both wanted a glass of wine more with dessert and coffee and talking, so I said to her "I'll pay, I'm rich, I'm employed again" and they served up 50 cl for 6 E, so it = 86.40 E.

Go?  Don't and don't stuff beans up your nose either.  But I'm coming back with Colette in two weeks.  (Oh BTW, our gracious host gave us a tour and showed us the lunch setup - a metal table for firsts (cold I assume) and another with two woks and other pans.  This is for the 17E weekday lunch feed.  I told you about Spring when it was in the 9th, Frechon when he was in the 19th, Cafe Cartouche in the 12th, Frenchie and Afaria and the Cantine de Troquet, you didn't believe me then and you won't believe me now until the big boys write it up this week. 

Le Pavillon du Lac in the 19th: A perfect meal, company, day and venue.

6.0 Le Pavillon du Lac, Parc des Buttes Chaumont (west of the Place Armand Carrel) in the 19th, 01.42.00.07.21, closed Mondays is a resto that I wanted to eat at especially because the Messrs. Rubin and Simon, Figaroscope's crack food journalists, disagreed 180° and I love that sort of situation - who was right? Rubin who gave it a busted heart for its pathetic welcome, gross mistakes and banal food or Simon who said "Faut-il y aller? Oui."

I went on a spectacularly beautiful, sunny and just warm enough (73° F) day, in the spectacularly beautiful Buttes-Chaumont with the spectacularly beautiful editor of the hottest new Paris food website and we had a spectacularly beautiful meal.  Exaggerate I spectacularly too much?

Things started out a bit roughly (point Mr. Rubin) - they had no record of my friend's somewhat hard in French to pronounce name in the rezbook, but trusted my oral declaration.  I asked for the carte, none appeared, I asked for the wine carte, none appeared, and since I had a hunch that I had a bit of a wait because my "date" was working, I decided to partake some wine and approached the amiable barkeep and asked if he could scare some up. Sure. (point Mr. Simon).

So I had a glass of rose - a Cuvee Magalie - whilst I read the denunciation of still-at-it cancer-survivor Lance, "maybe he did, maybe he didn't," Armstrong by that sour grapes has-been cyclist Greg Lemond (himself the survivor of a Dick Cheney-type buckshot attack) as well as the never-ending and ongoing scandal sagas of France's richest celebrity pair- Johnny "botched-surgery" Smet-Hallyday and Liliane "I'm the one accused of tax-evasion not the ex-hostage" Bettencourt.  In any case my friend showed up and we commenced.

 
I had spied the salad of raw veggies and ham and grilled salmon on cooked veggies on my neighbors' table and both looked terrific although delivered in inverse fashion (seconds-first, firsts-second).  (point Mr. Rubin)  Neertheless I ordered the salad of mache, tomatoes, baby corn, artichokes, leeks or were they hearts of palm? and ham and it was very very good, nicely dressed (which my friends' salad last month had not been) with ham I wished I'd remembered to ask the provenance of, it was so good.  (point Mr Simon)

 

Because she had just been on a food tour (figured out who she is yet?) she just had the salmon, toasty skin eh? with beautiful vegetables and I had two types of French beef ordered blue with a mache salad.  The charolais was indeed blue inside and tasty and good and my gosh, just like Michel Troisgos says - "juicy and flavourful," while the Salers was tougher and more done and golly, just like P. Wells, my co-expert-blogger describes - "firmer, chewier, more densely meaty...[with] a little stronger taste."  (two points Mr. Simon)

At this point we were talking business and she suggested we go out on the grass knoll and finish off the left-overs (ha) from her food tour (nut or raisin or both bread, two goats [musta missed those], two Comtes, two Bries and a "stinky" Munster which wasn't stinky to me) with cherries from the Marche d'Aligre (now have you got her pegged?), but it was impossible to catch the waitress' eye (cf David McCord, Cambridge Community College 1921 "Bye and bye God caught his eye") and I wanted a coffee, so I had one, and then we both ordered another and - whoops - hers went all over her little black dress and there was much "oh I'm sorry" but the noisette had already done its damage.  Domage.  (point Mr. Rubin)

The bill with a bottle of rose was 77 E.  The waitress/salle manager/etc., compensated us for my pal's cleaning bill by wiping off not only her dress but the bill of the apero glass of rose and 3 coffees.  (point Mr. Simon)

Go? Yes indeed, on a nice Tuesday-Thursday day for lunch when things are staffed up and it's not a madhouse.