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Showing posts with label Bastille restaurants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bastille restaurants. Show all posts

Friday, May 28, 2010

Havanita - Mother Cuba


Sweet deep Spring, me and Co. cruising the cultural circuit in Bastille on a crowded Friday night. Starting off with the final dress rehearsal, invite and press only performance of Wagner’s La Walkyrie at the Bastille Opera, a little Wagner goes a long way, so we weren't too depressed bolting after Act 1 and heading over to Café de la Danse. Tickets for the iconic Portugese musician Rodrigo Leão and his Cinema Ensemble group well in hand before getting hold of the opera ducats, so there we were, standing in the passage Louis Philippe, just off the well-trodden rue de Lappe, lingering before the doors opened a good 30 minutes late – probably should have stayed for Wagner’s Act 2. (By the way, at the snack bar at the Opera, I dropped a quick 10 spot on a thimble glass of red wine and a small bottle of water. I didn’t look at the price of the sandwiches.) On the way to the Café, I stepped into the long-standing, trendy Cuban restaurant & bar, Havanita and reserved for later in the evening – the place was already hopping at 7:30 pm.

After an extremely satisfying and impeccable performance of tango-infused Portugese
music by Leão’s ensemble, it was back to Havanita, slowly seeping through the madding crowd of trendy youth, doing their Mardi Gras thing on the packed rue de Lappe. Straight to one of the café-like tables, sinking into the deep leather chairs, we debated the merits of a

3-course meal with limited time before the last trains. Our dinner ultimately compromised by the hour, we still enjoyed a leisurely meal in the boisterous atmosphere of Havana, Paris style. This was our third, I think, visit to Havanita over the years, which I remembered more for its laid-back, casual atmosphere than its gastronomic offerings.

Barely able to comprehend the carte what with the conversations raging at a decible level just under screaming so as to be heard over the non-stop Caribbean music, we settled for an entrée split of crabe farci aux saveurs des caraïbes et son chutney de pomme (7.80€). This didn’t look nearly as good as whatever it was the guy to my left had ordered (which appeared to be some shrimp in a banana leaf or something to that effect), but better than what his date was having (guacamole d’avocat). It tasted pretty good, though, as crab should, accompanied with some greens. Maybe with all that racket in the place, it wasn’t surprising when our Iman lookalike waitress glided by and asked to be reminded of Co’s choice of plat, which happened to be pièce de boeuf grilleé d’argentine, sauce aux poivres de Jamaïque et sa pureé de patate douce (16.80€). This dish didn’t look as good as those to our left and right, and the disappointment on Co’s face told me everything I needed to know about Havanita’s beef dish. A big fan of Argentinian beef, it was evident that Co. had much better back in the day, including, coincidentally, during her trip to Cuba once upon a time. (When I mentioned to Co. how she may be the only person in Havanita to have actually visited Havana, she diplomatically corrected me – doing a quick study of the youthful clientele - by suggesting maybe not the only one, but definitely the first. Mmm, and I will probably be the last.) On a more upbeat note, I thoroughly enjoyed my main dish, the ceviche de dorade et gambas sur en lit de epinard (16.80€). This was a cold dish of marinated rectangles of dorade and, once I determined where they were (nope, not under the table), small morsels of marinated gambas. This on a bed of spinach leaves, dried tomatoes, and spidery red, white, and green sprouts. Accompanied by a side order of haricots noirs (4€ supplement), I was in heaven, not especially because the meal was so spectacular, which it wasn’t, but because it was just a nice change of pace from more typical French fare. There are many other dishes to choose from, but this is one I definitely recommend.

With time rapidly spinning by, we passed on dessert and café, despite Co’s temptation to swing for a croustillant de mangue (7.50€). That temptation was tempered when the aforementioned possibility showed up on the table to my right. Looked pretty good to me, but Co. wasn’t especially impressed. My meal was washed down with a few Cubanero beers (at 6.50€ a pop), Co. settling down to water after a long day. In short, for a post-Wagnerian tango-infused Portugese sort of late-evening meal, this was a good choice for laying back (no choice with those chairs – although there are normal tables for the less-spinally challenged) and slaking one’s appetite in a popular corner of Paris. Havanita looks like a good


spot for slaking one’s thirst as well, with a well-stocked bar and a plethora of cocktail choices on the carte. Alas, another time. For a restaurant that is more atmosphere than fabulously authentic Cuban cuisine (not even a bloody bottle of tabasco on the table! Sacre bleu!), it’s a little surprising that Havanita still packs them in after so many years, especially on a street where the neon signs change with such rapidity. It could be that Havanita has risen to the heights of a Bastille landmark, or that there are so few Cuban/Caribbean venues in Paris, who knows? But how I would love to see a truly authentic, cutting edge Southwestern American grille, Mexican cantina (though Celito Lindo next door to Havanita can be considered one of the better Mexican spots in town), Caribbean venue in Paris! Until that time, if it ever comes, spots like Havanita will have to do.




HAVANITA CAFÉ

11, rue de Lappe
75011 Paris
tel: 01 43 55 96 42
Even the website is noisy!

Monday, April 27, 2009

Bofinger - Not For Tourists Only




When it comes time to compile the list of famous Parisian brasseries, Bofinger makes the cut. As suggested elsewhere, the city’s oldest brasserie, dating back to 1864, offers elegance without pretension, a combination that many aspire to, but few achieve. Located on a side street within striking distance of the center of Bastille and the original opera house, Bofinger, which specializes in Alsatian dishes, harkens back to France’s Belle Epoque period. Once through the doors, you recognize immediately that you are not in Kansas anymore. Just past the anteroom you can glimpse the boisterous surroundings in the expansive main room under the dome – waiters maintaining a frenetic pace, carrying their enormous multi-tiered platters of fruit-de-mer or choucroutes amidst the ornate décor and furnishings that now are protected as national heritage. Whoa, sorry . . . I’m starting to sound like an airline magazine.

Back in the day, Co. and I used to visit Bofinger from time to time, primarily to indulge in the meat (Co.) and fish (your’s truly) choucroutes (sauerkraut platters, for the uninitiated). Never an easy place to reserve, we’ve always found it next to impossible to get a table under the dome. Big deal. We find the second floor rooms
cozier, less formal, and more intimate – a great place to bring visiting friends who may commit some sort of embarrassing faux pas. You know it’s best to restrict one’s audience when there is a chance one of your dinner companions may opt to drink the little finger bowl of lemon water and exclaim, ‘garçon, the soup was delicious!’ These days, it seems, the only time we revisit Bonfinger is when we have guests visiting from outside France. On this occasion, that was the case – our friends from Valencia, Spain, whose identities will heretofore remain veiled, but consisted of husband, wife, and 17-year-old precocious daughter, the latter of whom could speak fluent Spanish, Valencian, English, passable German, and has begun to learn Russian. At that age, I could barely speak one language, English, and my parents never took me to Belle Epoque Parisian brasseries, and likely wouldn’t have even if they were closer than 3000+ miles away. Some kids have all the luck.

Our dinner turned out to be an enjoyable dining experience from start to finish, no major faux pas, no arrogant waiter, no overcharging for the wine. I don’t know if our guests were merely being polite or were taking a conservative no-sense-agitating-our-stomachs-during-our-trip stance, but they limited their choices, opting out of a couple entrees and desserts, and passing on the post-meal coffee, resulting in a reasonable bill for five of 190 euros, including an inexpensive (22€) bottle of Languedoc.

Co. and I went the tried-and-true route and selected the aforementioned choucroutes. Mine and the teen’s
wife consisted of haddock, salmon, lotte, and quenelles (50€ for two). Her’s, which was shared with the precocious teen’s father, consisted of a medieval-looking array of sausages, pork, and andouillettes, and was kept warm with the aid of a kerosene-generated flame (42€ for two). The multilingual teen chose the Royale St. Jacques plate (12.50€) and quickly learned that she liked scallops a lot, and could now ask for them in at least three languages. Her mother praised her entrée of blanquette de saumon (19.50€). A couple of us shared a platter of a dozen oysters Fine de Claire as an entrée (27€), and despite their relatively small size, these really excelled. Raised on Utah Beach in Normandy, these were the tastiest oysters I’ve had the pleasure to slide down my throat in a long, long time. A couple more oyster platters and I would have been a happy camper, even without the choucroute. I indulged in a café gourmand, happily donating my little crème brulee to Co. to accompany her moelleux caraibes option.

If you’re not comfortable with these options, don’t despair, chef Georges Belondrade’s carte is pretty expansive, including some Bofinger specialties (foie gras, tartares, bouillabaisse, onion soup, lobster salad) and pretty much anything you would expect to find in an Alsatian brasserie. Service was impeccable and our waiters projected that Parisian air of having seen it all before, which I am sure they had, at least at Bofinger. In short, if you are visiting Paris and need that Belle Epoque, ornate décor, bow-tied waiters, and hair-raising edifices of seafood experience, Bofinger is your kind of brasserie. And as the title of this post proclaims, it’s not just for tourists.

BRASSERIE BOFINGER
7 rue de la Bastille, Paris
Tel 33 1 42 72 87 82
 
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