Les Enfants Rouges - Blame It On The New York Times

Guilty as charged - like most everyone else in the neobistrot Les Enfants Rouges last Friday evening - Co. and I ended up there because of a one paragraph mention in an article titled 'France's New Wave of Chefs' that appeared in the March 29-30, 2014 edition of the International New York Times.  In this article, author/journalist Michael Steinberger makes the claim that it is foreign chefs who are the ones breaking new ground in the French restaurant scene, and buttresses his argument by highlighting four venues that "for the first time in a long time' is bringing French cuisine back to life.
I've already reviewed two of them here - Bones (which I liked, but Co. didn't) and Roseval (which we both agreed was way over-rated, and the arrogant, impolite staff didn't help matters).  A third, Albion, didn't look so hot when I checked out online descriptions and reviews.  The fourth did - the aforementioned Les Enfants Rouges - the focal venue for this installment.

Chef Dai Shinozuka

Here's what I think of Michael Steinberger - they shouldn't let him out of the Bronx (or wherever the hell he resides in the Big Apple).  I get it - you're a journalist, you have to come up with a catchy theme, so find a few new interesting bistrots in Paris with foreign chefs and, viola, you've got a theme.

Passing through the quaint Les Enfants Rouges market, with its food stands and quaint shops, we came upon the similarly named restaurant where I had reserved earlier in the week.  The name, by the way, has nothing to do with Chinese kids; rather, it's the name of an orphanage that used to exist in the area, where the children were clad in red clothing.  Les Enfants is another one of those small, storefront restaurants that are so common in Paris - even though we snagged a good little table off to the side, once the place filled up and the tables that ours sat between welcomed patrons in their chairs, we felt the big squeeze, and I was jabbed in the shoulder more than once by the guy sitting at the table behind me.

The room - another night (courtesy of  Paris Kitchen)

Things started off very nicely.  With only one other table occupied, by a single, elderly male, the place had a nice feel to it - we shared a little repartee with the waiter, and had a tasty amuse bouche of mushroom emulsion with lardon.  By the time the bread arrived, the place was transformed: Welcome to America.  Les Enfants was quickly filled with English-speakers and, being American myself (at least half of me), I think I know an American when I hear one, and trust me, they were all Americans.  The waitstaff consisted of a genial guy in his early 30s and the ever-smiling wife of Japanese chef Dai Shinozuka.  If you want to work at Les Enfants - and I think it's highly unlikely there are any openings - you'd better speak English.  If I heard the waiter explain in English what boudin noir was once, I heard it 20 times.  The banter grew louder and more obnoxious, Co. was virtually tackled by an impolite young female who butted her way before her to the toilettes, and that single guy I mentioned earlier ended up befriending  a poor quiet family trying to eat their dinner - he ended up standing by their table for 20 minutes relating his life story.  On to the food:

Co. enjoyed her boudin noir - it was prepared in a square that looked afar like a dark terrine, accompanied by a modest selection of fresh vegetables.  I had the marinated dorade, also accompanied with vegetables, and this was the highlight of the meal for me - excellent.  Here' what it looked like:

Marinated half-cooked dorade

The plates weren't nearly as intriguing as the entrees.  Solid dishes, but if this is the stuff of bringing Paris cooking back to life, good luck:

       

Stuffed calimar - Co. was underwhelmed and gave me one of two

Canette with vegetables and half a cooked pair

Both of these dishes were good, but not very memorable.  You know me, I'm not a big fan of pear, and I would have liked to have been asked how I wanted my canette prepared - it would have been rarer than this.

Desserts time - I ordered Les Enfant's much praised baba au rhum and Co. opted for the panacotta with chocolate and mint.  Both hit the spot - I could tell Co. liked her mousse-like panacotta because by the time I got around to asking her for a taste, it was gone.  My baba au rhum was delicate and moist - better than the one at Buerre Noisette?  Probably not, although Les Enfants would be in the running if, like Buerre Noisette, they would leave the bottle of rum on the table.

Baba au rhum - view 1

                                                  

Baba au rhum -veiw 2 (can you spot the 27 differences in the two photos?)

I am happy/sad for Les Enfants.  The staff seem to have their heart into it, and chef Dai appears to be genuinely interested in shooting for, as Mr. Steinberger concludes, 'homey, totally satisfying French cooking.'  Is this one of the best new neobistrots in Paris, breaking new ground on the restaurant scene?  Hell no.  I can think of 20 venues off the top of my head that are more original.  What's so special about a foreign chef in the kitchen, if there's little evidence of that chef's origins in the cooking?  I don't get it.  It must be nice to get a mention in the New York Times.  About 20 years ago, I was quoted in an article, and my phone didn't stop ringing for two weeks.  Get your restaurant mentioned there and you're in business.  But it would be a shame if all that business consists solely of one-time tourist visits.  Not the way to build a loyal clientele.  Between a rock and a hard place, like our table.

Two 3-course menus at 38€ a pop, plus a 30€ bottle of Saint-Nicolas de Bourgueil L'Hurluberlu - the bio wine - we were informed that it was a biologique wine only after drinking it) a big disappointment, flat, tasted precariously like grape juice = 106€, sans cafe.

P.S.  It would be nice to hear from readers, but if you don't speak French, maybe you don't realize how to participate.  The way to comment on this blog is to look below each installment for the phrase 'Aucun commentaire'- (no comments) and click there.  If there are comments, there will be a number in front of 'commentaire.'  Please don't spam this blog with overly effusive praise ('this is one of the most informative sites on the Internet') along with a link to your Indian restaurant site.

LES ENFANTS ROUGES
9, rue de Beauce
75003 Paris
tel: 01 48 87 80 61
website:  looks like they haven't updated the uninformative site that existed before the current owners took over Les Enfants Rouge wine bar - lazy.

L’Agrume – Gracious Humility

Nice expression, ‘gracious humility,’ too bad I hadn’t thought of it first. No, that honor goes to New York Times Magazine food editor Christine Muhlke, describing L’Agrume as such in a recent article about some new, affordable hotspots on the Paris restaurant scene. Stealing that description for this installment’s review should make it pretty obvious that I agree. Nothing ostentatious or gratuitous in the delicate and inspired preparation of dishes at L’Agrume, which isn’t meant to suggest Parisian snobbishness. Quite the opposite, the atmosphere in the smallish gray/black modern two-room bistrot (one out of view downstairs) is laid back, comfortable, animated, and, of course, packed. And, as Co. & I were informed by under-40 chef/owner Franck Marchesi-Grandi’s conjoint/hostess, Karine Perrin, since that Times piece ran a couple weeks ago, packed more with Americans than French. And sure enough, the first table to fill after our arrival as the evening’s openers consisted of four vociferous Americanos, whom I overheard uttering ‘New York Times’ several times during their meal. When will discretion become the better part of valor so that some people—I’m not naming names—will remember my famous restaurant motto : you are not at home, so please…SHUT UP !

Power of the printed word – who says newspapers are dead ? The Times’ (that’s the fourth time, I know) mention of L’Agrume in toto comprised a mere 85cm (or 3.5 inches) – six sentences, yet enough to send hordes of English-speaking foodies off the beaten path to L’Agrume. Not that the restaurant needs any help – the word already had gotten out—yes, that’s right, hard to believe, even before my review—that L’Agrume’s 5-course menu dégustation represents one of the best deals in town, that town being PARIS. Of course, a little worldwide publicity doesn’t hurt.

Okay, down to business, bearing in mind that the 5-course meal—not the only choice, by the way, as there is an ala carte menu as well—is apt to change on a regular basis. No mise-en-bouche at the outset, but a nice little chat with the diminutive, black-clad Mme Perrin, got us settled comfortably into a nice little nook in the front by the window, but still in view of the open kitchen, where Monsieur Marchesi-Grandi was hard at work preparing the evening’s delicacies, aided by a young, female assistant. There you have it – two advantages to being the first to arrive : you have a non-harried hostess to chat up and you get your pick of tables. With two assistants handling the upstairs and downstairs rooms, service ran like a well-oiled machine late into the evening. First up was a finely prepared tartare de dorade grise lié à la chair d’araignée Pomelos et pomme verte. This is my kind of opener,
a perfectly constructed slightly salted mound of fish tartar with a sweet fruity counterpoint. My highest compliment : ‘More !’ Unfortunately, Co. smacked my hand and socked my jaw so that I wouldn’t bring undue attention to our table when I pulled out my phone and tried to snap a photo of the first course. But the accompanying photo (top) taken from the Paris Notebook blog’s review of L’Agrume bears a striking resemblance. (The other photo from Simon Says is of a L'Agrume fish dish not among those we sampled during our visit.) The tartar was followed by a dish consisting of vinegrette de pommes charlotte – asperges vertes et foie gras. Very French, very excellent foie gras. Next up, a small slab of bourride de Saint Pierre, the sumptuous fish accompanied by thinly sliced green peppers and chorizo. Fourth course consisted of extremely tender slices of basse côte de bœuf ‘Black Angus’ rôti, with carrots and red onions. Our hostess obliged without a moan, merci, when I asked to have the beef dish supplanted by a non-red meat offering. My substitute consisted of a satisfying piece of broiled dorade – more fish, true, but no problemo, bring it on. Our dessert brought the evening’s tally to a perfect five for five courses : fraises et coulis de pêches Blanches, crème fourettée vanillée et feuilletage. As far as I’m concerned, you can’t go wrong when you add a crusty feuilleté with fresh strawberries and cream, and if you are an impeccable chef like M. Marchesi-Grandi sneaking in a virtually invisible layer of white peaches, you really can’t go wrong. So to steal again from Ms. Muhlke, you can find fancier meals in Paris restaurants, but perhaps none so gracious.

If there was one drawback to the evening it was our wine. A tasty 2008 bottle of Bourguiel Gueil – Catherine & Pierre Breton at 32€ unfortunately had a very slight taste of cork throughout, but which really wasn’t immediately evident. So much for my finely attuned oenological sense of taste. The wine and end-of-meal espresso brought the bill to a 105€ total, almost criminal given the high quality of the meal. And there appears to be an even better deal awaiting lunch-goers.

In my research for L’Agrume, I was struck by this heading from the Simon Says blog: ‘La réponse au sadisme ambiant.’ Wait a minute, I know my French isn’t the greatest, but what the hell does ‘the response to ambient sadism’ mean? Please, someone, enlighten me. Well, the review itself also seemed a bit above my coherence level, so I turned, as most of us ex-pats ultimately do, to Google translator, recently rated by the New York Times (back again!) as the most accurate online translator to date. So here are just some English translated snippets from M. Simon’s unique tongue :

It is still accelerating Pretties narcissistic undergoing gastronomy. Here it is struck by a kind of unbridled exhibitionism with reality shows. This world is so peaceful unrecognizable in this new great dance agitated. Leaders and caring as if truculent Constant become Taras Bulba sadis young chicks to tears.

It is still far from what is really a chef: passionate but something a bit deeper than the dishes scraped with powdered ginger, yuzu and syringe sweatshirt with shaved Parmesan. Suddenly, there is something calm, velvety chestnut and plates subsided.

If this universe shines in big tables fly high, research and talent, it is inseparably associated with a more everyday, and closer to us. Long live the big names, but kudos to those working in the shadows, in neon! If they remain our favorite tables is that they want us closer, more friendly in their search reasoned. Here is an address and extra cut in the coupon so sentimental. It's called L’Agrume, a restaurant high to a grasshopper no bigger than a pancake.


OH-KAY….I’m sorry I just can’t compete with that sort of, ahem, eloquence. At the same time, I thank the restaurant gods that we were spared the syringe sweatshirt, and I am slapping myself silly for not having the acumen to recognize how L’Agrume is not unlike a grasshopper no bigger than a pancake. It is only fair, you can find Francois Simon’s words in their natural tongue at the Simon Says website. I must add M. Simon’s concluding assessment, which I think says it all: ‘You'll love this address simple, stark, it's like a javelin tasty. Yippee!’ Tasty javelin?! N’importe quoi.


L'AGRUME
15, rue des Fossés Saint-Marcel 75005 Paris
01 43 31 86 48
Métro 5 Saint-Marcel, Métro 7 Les Gobelins