OUT&ABOUT
This page is largely devoted to restaurants, though I'll recommend shops, hotels and B&Bs in the margins, where the restaurants will be indexed by country and region.
Nb: You'll find additional restaurant recommendations -- Paris, the French provinces, cities such as Amsterdam, Bath, Budapest, Prague, Salzburg and more -- in Article Archives.
April 2008
Country inn near Cahors: Hostellerie Le Vert
If your tastes run to reasonably priced country inns in beautifully reconverted stone farmhouses – wood beams, wide fireplaces – lost in the middle of the countryside, look no further. Le Vert, a good half hour from Cahors, in the Lot, offers all that plus extremely good food.
The last meal of our Cahors press trip (last week) was held here and I wouldn’t have minded checking in for a very long week-end. (They also do “demi-pension.)
Everything on our set menu -- the dishes of which came from the standard menu – was lipsmackingly delicious. First, there was a Jerusalem artichoke soup so soothing you wanted to lap it up. In it were chunks of molten aged parmesan as well as an egg yolk, all adding to the unctuousity. (Truffle oil was billed as an ingredient though I didn’t taste any.)
A terrine of foie gras mi-cuit , its layers separated by strands of fig, was perfect. Its garnish, homemade mango chutney, was good enough to be sold by the jar and I wish it had been on hand when the cheese was served.
Next came fork-tender shoulder of Quercy lamb seasoned with cumin and cardamom and served with the season’s first fava beans.
Then the dining equivalent of someone yelling “Fire!” in a crowded theatre; to wit: Hurry, or we’ll miss our train!
And so we rushed through a nice selection of pungent farmhouse cheeses and a toothsome chocolate dessert – layers of crunch and mousse – and headed for the bus.
Coming next: the Cahors wines to accompany such feasting, including Clos de Gamot, which is wine of the week, and a previous wine of the week, Chateau Le Cedre.
Hostellerie Le Vert, 46700 Mauroux (12 km sw of Puy l’Eveque); 05.65.36.51.36; info@hotellevert.com. $$
Cassoulet in Carcassonne: Is it possible to visit the Cassoulet region of France and not want to sample the signature dish? No. Next question: Am I getting an authentic, honest-to-god cassoulet? Well, here's an address to save. Inside the walled city, halfway between the Chateau Comtal and the Basilica St. Nazaire, is this charming family restaurant with a sweet, flower bedecked terrace. Owner Pierre Mesa takes his cassoulet seriously and it is mighty good -- with top-notch sausages and succulent confit de cuisse de canard. We were a large group so our cassoulets were brought into the dining room in terra cotta casseroles. Mesa then tossed them with red wine vinegar and ladled out the portions. Nb: Mesa uses good, fresh ingredients. His lighter dishes are delicious too. Soon to come: the wines to drink with cassoulet, ie St. Chinian and Minervois. Comte Roger, 14 rue St. Louis, Carcassonne, tel: 04.48.11.93.40; restaurant@comteroger.com.
March 2008
Le Continental, Cancale:
High tide, low tide, few things make me happier than a fishing port. I start smiling the second I see Cancale's harbor on the Bay of St. Michel in Northern Brittany. An endless string of seemingly fungible hotel-restaurants lines the waterside but Le Continental, which looks like every other Logis-de-France-level hostelry, is truly a find.
I was in Cancale on assignment and arrived at lunch time, with little more than an hour before my first rendez-vous. No time to search for "gastronomy." I sat down in the homely little restaurant of the hotel and, to my delight, found a menu filled with temptation -- at extremely reasonable prices -- and then, as if to confirm the high expectations created by the dishes described, a plate of lipsmacking mackerel rillettes and a basket of good bread was put on my table.
I ordered mussels. But not just any mussels. These were Moules de Bouchot de Mont St. Michel, an appellation controlee, if you please.The very gracious owner explained to me that the mussels from this particular zone had just been granted their appellation and, what’s more, that this had been a particularly good year for mussels. (Who knew mussels had vintages?).
They were, by far, the best mussels I’ve ever eaten – ultra-fresh, delicate, some of them as voluptuously creamy as sea urchins – and they had been prepared with intelligence and respect – just enough wine to steam them open, some light accents of flavor from diced celeriac and carrots. Now, my afternoon appointment was with one of Cancale’s leading oyster producers, Park St. Kerber. Their oysters were sublime, particularly the top-of-the-line Tsarskaya. But, no contest, the appellation controlee mussels were the best bivalves of the trip. And they came with tasty homemade frites.
I was torn between to dessert favorites so the owner gave me half portions of each: profiteroles stuffed with caramel au beurre sale ice cream on a sauce of what seemed like liquified caramel au beurre sale, and Kouign Amann (rough pronunciation: Kween Amahn), a pie that is 100% puff pastry.
If you've been to Brittany you know that these caramels made from salted butter are the world’s finest; and if you’ve sampled a Kouign Amann, you know that it’s the highest sublimation of butter.
Now, if I had had all afternoon to dream and look out at the bay and the incoming tide, I’d have ordered a bottle of Argelette, perhaps the world’s most elegant apple cider, made by Eric Bordelet. But, alas, I had to be functional. So I limited myself to what was available by glass, which turned out to be a Breton cider, Le P’tit Fausset, full of upfront, appley charm.
I was a happy camper. And, looking around the dining room, I saw that all the other diners were as content as I was.
(The hotel is recommended too. See margin.)
Cancale: Le Continental, 4 quai Administrateur Chef Thomas, 35260 Cancale; t: 02.99.89.60.16; mail: hotel-conti@wanadoo.fr.
January 2008
Osteria dei Vespri, Palermo:
On the same square as (and possibly a part of) the palazzo owned by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, author of The Leopard, the Osteria de Vespri is about as wine-loving a restaurant as you could hope to find. I would
certainly reserve here anytime I find myself in Palermo. A small room, with a
wood mezzanine, stone walls and a vaulted stone ceiling, its wine list
is phenomenal, its cooking, based on top ingredients, is creative but
not bizarre and the service is caring and competent.
As dinner was post-Opera, we all opted for one savory course and dessert.
First came baskets of homemade baked goods – breadsticks and an
assortment of tiny rolls, some flecked with fennel seed, others made
from cornmeal, and so forth. My main course consisted of long-simmered,
fork tender pork jowls and pearl onions set mashed potatoes and served
on a very reduced sauce based on Nero d’Avola. Superb. (And rather
“French bistro-gourmand”.)
There was a pre-dessert -- orange-scented crème brulee – and a
post-dessert – a platter of mixed petite fours such as chocolate
truffles and tiny fruit tarts, all delectable. For my main dessert I
had “cassaletta” – a fried pastry disc covered with powdered sugar and
filled with ricotta cream flavored with lemon peel and chocolate. (It
was as delicious as it sounds.)the Osteria dei Vespri, on the same square as (and possibly a part of) the palazzo owned by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, author of The Leopard.
We loved this restaurant so much we went back again and I would
certainly go anytime I find myself in Palermo. A small room, with a
wood mezzanine, stone walls and a vaulted stone ceiling, its wine list
is phenomenal, its cooking, based on top ingredients, is creative but
not bizarre and the service is caring and competent.
As it was rather late, we all opted for one savory course and dessert.
First came baskets of homemade baked goods – breadsticks and an
assortment of tiny rolls, some flecked with fennel seed, others made
from cornmeal, and so forth. My main course consisted of long-simmered,
fork tender pork jowls and pearl onions set mashed potatoes and served
on a very reduced sauce based on Nero d’Avola. Superb. (And rather
“French bistro-gourmand”.)
There was a pre-dessert -- orange-scented crème brulee – and a
post-dessert – a platter of mixed petite fours such as chocolate
truffles and tiny fruit tarts, all delectable. For my main dessert I
had “cassaletta” – a fried pastry disc covered with powdered sugar and
filled with ricotta cream flavored with lemon peel and chocolate. (It
was as delicious as it sounds.)
The wines: First of all, the wine list is to die, with superb
selections from all over the world as well as an encyclopedic range of
the best of Italy. But I wanted to focus on Sicily. And so:
2005 Nero d’Avola (IGT) from the pioneering winery Planeta.
Actually, it was 95% nero d’avola, our very savvy waitress told us,
with 5% of a “world grape.” (35 euros.) Young, rich and very tight, it
exuded aromas of black cherry, blueberry and licorice. After about five
minutes, the barrique aging became evident and later, more evident. The
wine, which recalled a very good red from the Languedoc-Roussillon,
needed aeration. I ordered a second bottle and asked that it be
decanted. The wine opened up beautifully, a stately presence, a weave
of rich, dark fruit flavors and a velvety texture.
While waiting for it to breathe, we drank a 2005 Nero d’Avola “Il Moro” from Valle dell Acate (22 euros). Good
value here, and a very nice wine, with a smooth attack and good
structure, but a bit raspy and it suffered by comparison to the Planeta.
I may well be built backwards. I like to end a meal either with
Champagne or with something dry and alcoholic -- or both – and start
with something off-dry or downright sweet. Keeping within the Sicilian
mode, I opted for a dry Marsala, the Pelligrino 1880 Reserva del Centenairo 1980,
which was all coffee, toffee and nut flavors with a steel backbone –
something of a cross between a Palo Cortado and an Oloroso. (I’ll
describe our second meal here later. In the meantime: Osteria dei Vespri, Piazza Croce dei Vespri, 6, 90133 Palermo; tel: 091.617.16.31; www.osteriadeivespri.it; closed Sunday.)
Sant’Andrea, Palermo:
Based on everything I’d read, I was sure
that this would be the star restaurant of the trip, that we’d want to
go back again and again. Well, it was a major disappointment on every
level. But before going into some of the sorry details I do want to say
that it’s an attractive, contemporary, popular place with good food (as
in a squid ink ravioli stuffed with a mousse of broccoli). But it’s not
what it’s cracked up to be.
First of all, the service. I may sound mean but I spent many years as a
waitress while I thought I wanted to be an actress. So even though it
was New Year’s Eve, I wasn’t going to give the restaurant that was
supposed to be the best in Palermo a free ride. Everything was timed to
the minute: to the kitchen’s minute. What we received had nothing to do
with who had or hadn’t arrived, with who had or hadn’t finished the
dish they were eating. It had everything to do with the timing they had
obviously worked out down to the minute. And they paid so little
attention to our needs that eight of us drank only two bottles of wine!
Scandalous! I can drink that much on my own on a summer Sunday in the
garden!
There was a set menu of four courses for 60 euros with a three
possibilities in each course. For my first course I chose
“Mediterranean raw fish”: a “king prawn” on fennel, sping onion and
ginger; oysters on “scalora riccia”, and fish carpaccio with artichokes
and orange. I think this is the last time I will try to like raw
prawns. I adore them cooked but raw? The oyster was good but whatever
the ‘scalora riccia’ was remains a mystery: I didn’t taste anything
much less anything I could identify. Was it a typo, as in “the Mean
(sic) course”? I’ll have to ask Maureen. The raw fish – sorry, I forget
what it was--was tasty but there wasn’t much evidence of the artichokes
and orange.
Next course: risotto with cumin, fish of the day, artichokes, wild
fennel, broad beans and fresh caciocavallo cheese. Risotto it wasn’t.
The rice was al dente. The fish was a different fish of the day than
the one in the first course – one, I think was sea bream, the other sea
bass – and was a bit overcooked. The pleasantest thing about the dish
was finding the molten strands of fresh cheese at the bottom of the
bowl. I was still desperately trying to like this restaurant.
The “Mean” course: stew of Tusa lamb, flavored with and wild fennel and
served with a basket made of fried bread and filled with a compote of
dried fig and date. I ordered this because I knew that for most of the
trip we were going to be eating fish, fish, fish; because I love lamb;
and because if they used the name “Tusa,” I assumed it was a special,
regional lamb – though they were too busy to answer any questions.
In any event: just a really ho-hum lamb stew, not quite as mediocre as
cafeteria level but not far.This, on a New Year's Eve menu in what was
supposedly the best restaurant in Palermo? The dried fruit compote was
tasty but by this time I had pretty much lost patience.
And dessert: yellow cream and fresh goat cheese with puff pastry.
What’s the yellow cream? I wanted to know. “Yellow cream.” Well, it was
more of a savory-ish soup than anything else and I ate about two
spoonfuls of it.
The Wine: The list was far from great. Mostly big houses like Donna
Fugata and when they had a small property, they were out of the wine.
Still, we were very happy with our 2006 Cerusualo di Vittoria from
Planeta. Made principally from Nero d’Avola blended other indigenous
red grapes (eg Frappato, Nerello Mascalese) it was seductively
fragrant, with the texture of velvet and rich flavors of black cherry,
cherry pit, raspberry liqueur and crème de cassis. We could easily have
downed another bottle or three.
September 2007
La Cognette, Issoudun:
What’s that line about all happy families being alike? Well, can this
particular family – the Nonnets and the Daumy-Nonnets – adopt me?
Please? (I bet Tolstoy wouldn’t have minded being a foster child here
either.)
Alain Nonnet, the father of the clan, is as cheerful and as generous a
chef as you are ever likely to meet. His food is a fine reflection of
his personality. When I was researching the Loire book (first edition)
in 1990 I interviewed him about traditional Berry food. We were sitting
in the overstuffed, period armchairs of the front room while dinner was
starting in the jewel-box of a dining room beyond. “It’s heavy,” he
said of Berrichon cooking. And he’d punctuate his description of each
specific dish, with a ‘you see’ nod, saying “Heavy!”
So he’s there in his chef’s whites and his toque, as is his son-in-law
Jean-Jacques Daumy (who had just begun working with him in 1990), and
the women, mother Nicole and daughter Isabelle, as cheerful as Alain,
I had loved this restaurant in 1990 but hadn’t been back since. I think
it has dropped from two Michelin stars to one. If that’s in fact true,
it’s nuts. What this recent meal showed me was that La Cognette is
better than ever. In fact, if you want really traditional (ever so
slightly updated) Berrichon food that will have you salivating in you
memory of it, make a beeline for this place. (The hotel is as heartily
recommended.)
There have been a couple of changes – a PVC terrace added to the
façade, for example – but the soul of the place remains intact. This is
Masterpiece Theatre meets Balzac. In fact, Balzac wrote “La
Rabouilleuse” while living in Issoudun and frequented this
restaurant/auberge when it was owned by M. and Mme. Cognet. The décor
seems properly vintage – thus, those overstuffed chairs, armoires,
bibelots etc.
And the food! Dieters, search elsewhere. You will be miserable. Big eaters, however, will want to move in.
After some perfectly lovely amuse-bouches – eg a “capuccino” of green
pea – we started in on the heavy Berrichon-alia with a Cognette
classic, cream of green lentils from Berry. The nod to modernism
throughout was that everything was served on a slate slab so that the
soup came with side dishes of sliced truffles and tiny, diced croutons.
You added what you wanted when you wanted it – which meant after you’d
stopped sniffing the truffles. The soup was heavenly – in the earthily
soothing sense (sorry.) Then came a chausson filled with snails in a
garlicky cream sauce. You know there can be nothing bad about a well
made garlicky cream sauce. The stunner came with the chausson, about as
delectable and as buttery a turnover as I’ve ever eaten. Also large
enough for a meal.
Next came individual souffled omelets with ecrivisses.The crayfish were
right out of Escoffier. The omelet – the size of a CD – was a minor
miracle – light as air, a pillow of flavor. You couldn’t stop eating it.
Then, a Nonnet signature dish and a Berrichon staple, filet of carp
stuffed with bread crumbs, sausage and mushrooms. To die. Needless to
say, I was so stuffed I couldn’t touch the cheese. I did, however, eat
the little salad made from wild purslane -- which made me rethink
ripping out the purslane that grows weedlike in my garden. Instead, I
should harvest it when it just begins to sprout from the earth.
There were lots of very pretty little desserts but I couldn’t eat the
ones flavored with rosewater as that’s one of the few flavors I really
dislike. So my tablemates vacuumed them up. Then came platters of
minuscule friandises – chocolate truffles, very creamy, very teeny
financiers, and microscopic goblets filled with passion fruit cream or
a mystery cream which turned out to be a mixture of beet and tomato
flavored with pepper.
The vigneron Claude Lafond was with us so it’s no surprise that the
sommerlier selected a cuvee of Lafond’s Reuilly blanc made for la
Cognette. He also chose a wine new to me, a 2005 Valencay Cuvee des
Griottes, 80% gamay/20% pinot noir from Francis Jourdin that was a
succulent, nicely balanced, spicy, light red.
La Cognette, rue des Minimes/Blvd Stalingrad, 36100 Issoudun; 02.54.03.59.59; www.la-cognette.com.
L’Aubergeade, in the countryside, 12 kms from Issoudun:
You read it here first: l’Aubergeade has one of France’s best and
best-priced wine lists. You could spend two years here, drinking a
different and differently great bottle every day, and still have money
left in your bank account. Just focusing on France, the encyclopedic
list includes Guy Bossard’s Muscadet “Expression de Granite,” Vernay’s
various Condrieus, Mas de Daumas Gassac, a range of Gauby and so forth.
I visited this restaurant with other wine journalists. So it won’t
remain a secret for long: Raoul Salama intends to feature l’Aubergeade
– because of its wine list – in the Revue du Vin de France.
But, to begin at the beginning: if you didn’t know about this
restaurant beforehand, you’d pass it by. A no-frills building on the
side of a main local road not far from Issoudun, it looks like a truck
stop. And the reasonably priced meals might, indeed, appeal to hungry
truckers. (We had the royal treatment: a private room, 3 fancy-ish
courses, plus cheese, and all the bottled water and wine we could drink
and still paid only 40 euros a person.)
Jacky Patron, the chef-owner (yes, his name is really Patron), knows
how to cook. He starts with top-notch ingredients and treats them with
great intelligence. You could eat his food every night. (I could,
anyway.) First came silky homemade ravioli filled with foie gras.
Girolle and morille mushrooms were piled on top and infused the light
cream sauce with their woodsy flavor. Yum. Then there was a perfectly
cooked, herb-encrusted saddle of lamb garnished with more mushrooms,
buttery cabbage and polenta rounds that appeared to have been formed
with a cookie cutter. The very good cheese tray included some
lipsmaking Stilton; and, for dessert, we each got our own individual
fig tart: a buttery, crunchy, CD-sized disk covered with flavorful
fresh figs. Couldn’t have been better. Even the coffee was delicious.
So, what did we drink? Well, we’d spent the morning with Reuilly
producers so, noblesse oblige, we drank Reuilly, reds and whites from
two growers: a 2006 blanc from Guy Malbete had turbo-powered, ripe
sauvignon blanc fruit; athe 2005 blanc “La Raie” from Claude Lafond was
rich and textured but somewhat redolent of pipi de chat – as sauvignon
will be when it’s not entirely phenologically ripe. Malbetes 2006 red
was pleasant, balanced and went down easily but that’s about it.
Lafond’s rouge, “Les Grandes Vignes,” had attractive plum and tea
flavors and was just fine for a Sunday lunch in a country restaurant.
Somehow I couldn’t stop drinking it.
L’ Aubergeade, 321 Route d’Issoudun, 36260 Diou, 02.54.49.22.28.
August 2007
Le Moulin Bleu, Bourgueil
A pleasant restaurant next door to Yannick Amirault’s cellars, Le Moulin Bleu is owned and run by Michel and Chantal Breton – a smiling, very
professional couple. It restaurant occupies a renovated 15th century
mill on a hillside overlooking Bourgueil and its best vineyards. (Alas,
it also overlooks the nuclear power plant in Avoine. But never mind.)
The weather was agreeable enough for everyone to want to be on the
terrace – an undeniably pleasant place to be. The 19 euro lunch menu is
a fine bargain and the food, with its focus on hearty local specialties
(eg salad with rillons, coq au vin) is just fine. (Though fewer but
better garnishes would be a plus.) The very good, reasonably priced
wine list is particularly strong in Touraine appellations, with plenty
of excellent Vouvrays and Bourgueils. Should you want to go: Le Moulin Bleu, 7 rue du Moulin Bleu, 02.47.97.73.13. (Ask to sit outside.)
April 2007
ARLES VACATION: (We went during a school vacation which
meant that many of the restaurants that interested me were closed, eg
the very enticing looking, one-Michelin-star Le Cilantro. No matter: we
found plenty of good places to eat. In addition to the four places
reviewed here, we also liked Le Cricket which is less touristy than it
looks and serves a mean rack of lamb.)
BRIN DE THYM: 22 ru du Docteur Fanton, 13200 Arles, t/f: 04.90.49.95.96.
This engaging mom-and-pop restaurant is, to me, the bedrock of French
gastronomy. It’s homey and friendly, has delicious, forthright food, a
nice wine list and a downright charitable 17 euro menu. (Perhaps, the
best price/quality ratio in Arles.)
We both started with tellines,
wee mollusks that I’ve also eaten (with enormous pleasure) in Seville.
These seem to have been cooked in a garlicky broth with, perhaps, some
white wine. We each got a big bowl of them and enjoyed every second it
took to suck them out of their fragile little shells. Yummo! Then I had
Rouille a la Setoise. With a lifelong weakness for garlic and mayo-like emulsions, I’ve long been addicted to the saffron-colored rouille
that lends its delectable pungency to Provencal fish soups and stews.
This dish was more solid than liquid – the rouille binding a huge
portion of potatoes and cuttlefish – and, not only was it loud enough
to ward off vampires for the next decade, it was also so copious I
could hardly make a dent in it. (It’s evidently a local staple. At the
town’s Saturday market I saw preprepared versions of it at several
different fish stands.) Joyce had a tasty, very light variation on
brandade that seemed to have no potatoes in the blend, just salt cod
and egg whites. (Or so it seemed.) It came with toothsome Camargue rice
and ratatouille.The desserts that came with the menu were good versions
of classics: chocolate mousse and crème caramel. We drank a 2003
Vacqueyras, a deliciously fleshy Rhone red from Montirius, a domaine I
love (which should come as no surprise to those who’ve read my latest
book).
LA CHARCUTERIE: BOUCHON LYONNAIS: 51 rue des Arenes, 13200 Arles, 04.90.56.96.
Why, you might ask, go to a Lyon-style restaurant when visiting Arles?
Let me count the whys: it’s authentic; it’s delicious; it’s fun; it’s
cheap; and it’s a real window into daily life in Arles. Now for
specifics. La Charcuterie is your basic no-frills hole-in-the-wall
located on a side street around the corner from the Place du Forum.
Half of its narrow room is taken up by a workspace–cum-bar. Tables are
squeezed together with not a centimetre wasted. Except for Joyce and
me, zero tourists. Everyone seemed, not only to be Arlesian, but to be
a ‘regular.’ There was much faire-ing of la bise
(when socialites pretend to do this we call it ‘air kissing’). People
come with their dogs – nothing new in France – but when the dogs start
to bark at each other, the owner of the restaurant joins in. It’s a
pretty happy, lively place. And the food is honest-to-god Lyonnais
bouchon, right down to the Bobosse sausages and the St. Marcellin from
La Mere Richard. Joyce and I shared what may have been the best
Lyonnais salad I’ve ever had – complete with perfectly poached egg and
bacon-kissed croutons that were to die for. To be in the spirit of our
host city, we had saucisse d’Arles – wonderfully moist and
meaty and served with a gratin of potatoes and cepes. Then a pungent,
runny St. Marcellin and, to wash it all down, a full-throated house
red, a Vin de Pays d’Oc.
BISTROT A VIN CHEZ ARIANE: 2 rue du docteur Fanton, 13200 Arles; 04.90.52.00.65
A home away from home for winelovers, this warm, casual restaurant is
just want you want when overeating and type-A tourism mandate a
friendly, laid-back setting, friendly, laid-back food and good wine,
most of the hypernatural persuasion. Though she’s aided by a really
nice waitress, Ariane (I’m assuming that’s her name) does it all:
cooks, selects and tastes the wines, and does whatever else needs to be
done. We had sauteed lamb served with rice from the Camargue and a
fresh green bean salad. It was as if Ariane had read our minds (or
stomachs): perfect. And the 2004 Costieres de Nimes Domaine Perillieres
(Vignerons d’Estezargues) was structured, flavorful, wonderful with the
food and very reasonably priced at 16 euros. It was a slow night – a
holiday weekend – and so Ariane came out to chat with us when we’d
finished eating. She opened a bottle of Eric Pfifferling’s pure
Carignan, a vin de table, and we shared opinions about wines,
winemakers, Parisian bistrotiers – by which point I was ready to go
into partnership with her.
The last restaurant in the Arles diary will be Atelier Rabanel. It
will take me some time to write that one up but I hope to post it in
the near future.
April 16, 2007
GIRLZ IN THE ‘HOOD: A GREAT LITTLE PARIS BISTRO CALLED GEORGETTE:
A dream of a neighborhood bistro, Georgette has everything going for
it, starting with the downright niceness of its hostesses. It’s a
small, tidy place with vaguely late50s- early 60s décor – a vintage,
tiled bar, formica tables in Matisse colors – and the kind of fresh,
imaginative, often organic food you could eat every day such as a
‘gateau ‘ – read: cross between a flan and a souffle -- of herbs,
arugula and three cheeses.
My last visit was for Friday lunch in late March. The joint, as they
say, was jumpin'. We started with a scrumptious, lightly fiery soup of
curried Jerusalem artichokes. My good buddy Joyce, who was with me, was
intrigued by the daily special of pigs’ ears braised in white wine but
was turned off by the gelatinous texture. (When the waitress offered –
repeatedly – to bring her something else, however, Joyce refused. Well,
she did have a train to catch.) I thoroughly enjoyed my succulent,
beautifully cooked slices of veal with sauteed potatoes. Ice cream
addicts will love the top-notch versions that come from an ice cream
artist in the outskirts of Paris. Fig sorbet which tasted like
concentrated fresh fig accompanied a moist financier that had been cooked like a loaf cake and then thickly sliced. And sensational caramel au beurre sale
came with a tasty cookie, both posed on a sensational dark chocolate
sauce. Know, too, that the prices are reasonable; and though the wine
list is short, every bottle is worth trying. We drank a very polished,
fine-grained 2004 Saumur-Champigny from the rather cultish Chateau
Yvonne.
Georgette: 29 rue St. George, 9th arrdt, 01.42.80.39.13.
April 5, 2007 LUNCH AT CHEZ MICHEL WITH KO (Or, bistro gourmand defined):
When describing wines I often find myself saying that they would be
ideal options in a bistro gourmand. What, you may have wondered, does
she mean by bistro gourmand? Well, Chez Michel, in the 10th
arrondissement of Paris, exemplifies the bistro gourmand. Chef-owner
Thierry Breton , who had all the right talent, training and
apprenticeships to aim for one or more Michelin stars, chose instead to
open a laid-back bistro in which he just happens to serve some of the
best food in Paris. No fireworks here – either in terms of smarmy
amenities or culinary frippery. (In fact, the waitresses have taken to
wearing distressed jeans.) But the fact that Michelin consistently
ignores Chez Michel – save for a ‘damning with faint praise’ single
knife and fork – underscores how out of touch the Red Guide is with the
food scene. (Ok, I still study it like the Talmud, but…) Suffice it to
say that, any chance I get, I go to Chez Michel.
This day -- at the end of March -- was a very special one. I was having
lunch with my dear friend Karen (Odessa) Piper, the former chef-owner
of L’Etoile in Madison, Wisconsin and truly one of the Angels in
America. KO (as I call her) was taking the train in from Reims where
she’d been accompanying her husband, legend-in-his-own-time importer
Terry Theise, as he visited the producers of the wonderful grower
Champagnes he brings in to the USA, eg Gimmonet, Pierre Peters,
Vilmart, Margaine.
For years I had been aching to convince TT (as I call him) that we
should all eat at Chez Michel or a restaurant like it. TT, however,
always wants to go to Pierre Gagnaire and Astrance and Carre des
Feuillants. Been there, done that.
I don't mean to sound jaded. And essentially I'm not jaded. But I’m so
tired of gratuitous pomp and circumstance! (Not that I’ll reject an
invitation to, say Astrance, mind you, I just have my preferences.)
This time KO was coming alone. She’d be arriving at the Gare de l’Est.
Chez Michel was, therefore, perfect – in terms of location (proximity
to station) , excellence of cooking and relaxed atmosphere. If time
permitted – which it didn’t – there were even some excellent food shops
and markets along the way to visit.
Thierry Breton comes by his family name naturally: a son of Brittany
(and of Breton restaurateurs), he features the best of that region’s
produce. He offers a 30 euro 3-course menu – from which you can eat one
of the best and best-priced meals in Paris – and has a full complement
of blackboard specials every day. These carry supplements, sometimes
quite hefty supplements, but they are always worth it.
On the table when you sit down is a bowl of periwinkles and a mustardy
emulsion in which to dip them. I asked for a slab of butter because I
wanted KO to taste it. Made in Saint Malo by Jean-Yves Bordier, it has
become so celebrated that it’s known as “le beurre Bordier”.
(Where but in France could you become a star because you made great
butter?) This was lightly salted and, with Chez Michel’s sour dough
bread, was really all I needed (aside from a good red) to make me happy.
To start, I chose a special of scallops.
Normally this is a main course but more and more people order it as an
appetizer and a magnificent starter it is. Gorgeous scallops (in the
shell), perfectly cooked, served with a foamy (NB: I didn’t say “foam”)
and buttery puree of celeriac. The combination was so complementary in
both appearance and sweet flavor that one ingredient seemed a
continuation of the other, yet one was the essence of the sea and the
other was the salt of the earth. KO started with Brittany oysters
served cold and delicately seasoned with lemon zests and what seemed
like white wine vinegar. The oysters were superb; the oyster juices
were even better.
Next, I had roasted farmhouse duck served in a profound, blood-thickened gravy, and accompanied by little ratte
potatoes (think Fingerling). After a week of deluxe dining in
Champagne, KO had groaned“no foie gras.” She ordered the culinary
opposite: beef cheeks long simmered with winter vegetables. The kind of dish you want to come home to.
And for dessert, ethereal crepes which had been given the Suzette treatment in the kitchen instead of tableside, and kouignn amann, a traditional Breton puff pastry galette that is nothing less than the apotheosis of sugar and butter.
If you are like me, you are asking, “So what did you drink already?” We started with a 2004 Condrieu from Barge that was mineral, floral and beautifully textured. Then we broke the bank with a ’96 Clos de Beze
from Prieure-Roch at a mere 210 euros. Now there are many things to be
said on this subject, starting with the price. I was ready to order
Gramenon’s “Meme” – which I adore. But TT was paying for our lunch and
his marching orders to KO had been “You treat that girl!” So
KO instructed me to order whatever wine inspired me the most. I love
Prieure-Roch. I love Clos de Beze. I knew that this was the red that TT
would have ordered. And ’96 is a mighty good year. So how was it? It
should have been carafed at least two hours before. But who knew?
There was a very grand Burgundy there but as it presented itself, the
wine was dominated by grilled aromas which I’ve come to associate with
reduction. There were flashes of majesty, of a beautifully regal
Gevrey-Chambertin – which increased as the wine had a chance to breath
– but we’d have had to extend our meal into the dinner service for the
wine to have come into its own. I have often encountered these grilled
aromas in white Burgundies – the very best white Burgundies – and at
first, ascribed the syndrome to charred barrels. When asked, however,
the vignerons in question inevitably replied that their barrels had
been subjected only to the most delicate level of toasting. What, then,
could it be? I always asked. Those who had any opinion at all said
“reduction.” And, indeed, with sufficient aeration, that charred aspect
evaporates. So until wiser wine lovers than I come up with the
definitive explanation, I’ll stick with what I now call Cote d’Or
reduction. And I sure would like to have the opportunity to drink that
wine again – with proper aeration.
Chez Michel, 10 rue Belzunce, 10 arr. 01.44.53.06.20.
Lunch or dinner? If you can, opt for lunch. The clients are all French
regulars. Dinner, because of scribes like me who insist on raving about
Chez Michel, is often dominated by tourists. Also, ask to sit upstairs.
And if it’s completely booked, know that Thierry Breton has a “bistro”
spin-off of his bistro gourmand called Chez Casimir which is just two
or three doors down the street.
Le Gavroche: A fine, rough-and-ready bistrot:
It is a truth universally acknowledged that Americans eat early.
Whether or not a restaurant has a policy of two seatings a night,
chances are that if you are willing to dine late, you can get in almost
anywhere. What’s more, most of the crowd will be Parisian. La Gavroche,
on the rue St. Marc (2nd), is known for keeping its kitchen open late.
And a welcome thing that is – after a movie or a play, or, in this
case, after the presentation of my book at WH Smith. And so it was that
we (me, Alain Hasard – excellent Burgundian winemaker and my
‘introducer’ – and Mike Spingler – wine bar pal, French professor and
Alain’s translator for the introduction) arrived at Le Gavroche at
around 10:30 on a Thursday night.
Le Gavroche calls itself a wine bar. But it’s really a rough-and-tumble
bistro with plenty of damned good cru Beaujolais by pitcher and bottle.
Plus excellent homemade fries. It was more raucous than I’ve ever seen
it -- packed with serious eaters and even more serious smokers. (What
will they do next year when the smoking ban in restaurants comes into
effect?) We squeezed into a banquette, ordered a cote de boeuf (for
two) and boeuf aux carottes, some goose rillettes to start us off, and
a bottle of cool, tasty Cote de Brouilly. The food was better than it
needed to be. The cote de boeuf, glistening with gros sel, was bloody
rare, as ordered, and served in thick slices. Enough for three. No
matter how many fries they give you here, however, there are never
enough but, though taking a doggie bag of the last slab of steak, I
stopped myself from asking for more frites. An appropriately rum-soaked
Baba ended the meal nicely. (They also make a fine and sultry millefeuille or Napoleon.) Le Gavroche,19 rue St. Marc, 01.42.96.89.70.
ps:today, May 16, 2007, Francois Simon wrote a devastating review of le
Gavroche in Le Figaroscope. It's true that some of the food is less
than stellar but the cotes du boeuf w/frites followed by Baba au Rhum
or a Napoleon should put a smile on most faces.
March 7, 2007:
Pizza in Paris: Cantina Clandestina:
Maybe, if you're just visiting Paris, you don't even dream of wanting
to eat pizza. Believe me, once you live here, you crave a good pie, one
with real mozzarella and not swiss cheese. I have been searching for a
long time. And,lo, one month ago, an adorable -- 20 seat -- little hole
in the wall called Cantina Clandestina opened, offering hand thrown,
gorgeous pizzas. You can smell the garlic from 3 blocks away.The pie
crust is to die. The toppings are copious and each is showered with a
fistful of arugula before serving. Sample toppings: "la Clandestina" --
tomato sauce, mozzarella, anchovy, chorizo, bell peppers and cherry
tomatoes; "la Cantina" -- tomato sauce, mozzarella, grilled eggplant,
gorgonzola, olives and parmesan; and my choice "Sole" -- mozzarella,
buffalo milk mozzarella, braesola, artichoke hearts and cherry
tomatoes. I went with two friends -- one American, from Boston, and one
Parisian -- neither of whom were wild about pizza. We were all very
happy campers. Note that the place is tiny and you must, must, must
reserve. Here are the specifics: Cantina Clandestina, 17 rue Milton, 9
arr., tel: 01.53.21.05.16.
February 2007
SPRING: A GEM OF A RESTAURANT
This minuscule, 16-seat storefront with minimalist décor and an open
kitchen is drawing Parisian foodies – celebrity chefs, front-line
journalists with weekly columns, wine importers and sommeliers – to a
sidestreet in the north of the ninth arrondissement. Daniel Rose,
barely 30, American,
self-taught (though he’s worked in some famous kitchens) offers a
single menu daily: 4 courses – two appetizers, main course, dessert –
for 36 euros. Which is pretty much of a bargain if you take the time to
do the math for a three-course meal at an average bistro with
good-enough food. But Broadway Danny Rose (I can’t help but call him
that -- and he doesn’t mind) gives much more than good enough. His
food, based on the best and freshest ingredients, is thoughtful,
masterly and very, very delicious.
What you won’t find: post-Ferran-Adria chemistry experiments such as
pulverized,extruded seaweed in the form of garden snails, or squid on a
bed of black, licorice flavored foam; nor will you find architectural
adventures that must be deconstructed in order to be eaten. What you
will find are keen,incisive flavors – as in a zingy appetizter of
marinated sardines (as fresh as anything you’d get from the herring
vendors of Amsterdam) on chopped cucumber and apple; sophisticated
comfort food like suave, flavorful pumpkin soup so soothing you want to
put it in a baby bottle and drink it in bed; and bespoke home cooking
like roast duckling on a pillow of turnip and almond puree. And the
sardines come garnished with chips made of turnip and sweet potato; the
soup is boosted with a chunk of lightly curried guinhea hen, and the
duckling is napped with a nuanced sauce subtly flavored with coffee.
And when you’ve polished off your toothsome chocolate tarte you realize
that you’re nicely full. You’ve eaten just enough to be completely
satisfied but not so much as to make you feel bloated and guilty. And
you want to come back. ASAP.
SPRING, 28 rue de la Tour d’Auvergne, 75009, 01.45.96.05.72, www.springparis.blogspot.com
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