La Mare Au Diable – Devil Made Me Do It

Seen any good movies lately? Just kidding. Just that I’m not sure how much of the lunch at La Mare Au Diable from a few weekends back I can remember. You know, long ride with Co. at the wheel, lazy Sunday afternoon with a belly full of wine and traditional French cooking, what more to do than conk out for a few hours when you should be typing away at the computer?

No this isn’t a review of the famous George Sand pastoral novel (The Devil’s Pool) written in 1846 – there, who said you don’t learn anything cultural here—but the pastoral restaurant in the French countryside in Reau (just next door to Melun), which was named after George’s novel. If you have a look at the image of the restaurant and its adjoining pool if begins to make sense, and once you look at the prices on the menu—but only the man can do that, remember this is French tradition
(in this case, at its worst)—you understand the Devil part. Poor George, that forward thinking, cross-dressing, cigar-smoking novelist, wouldn’t have a clue what the price of her deer plate was had she eaten at La Mare, which she probably could have done because the restaurant has been there since before forever. We were seated in the 15th C. room. I know that because there was a plaque on the wall that displayed the large Roman numerals XVeme. One of our server’s conjectured that maybe it’s the thought that counts, after we cynically inquired, ‘15th C? Come on, you can tell us.’ Anyway, getting back to the idea of not putting the prices on the girl’s menu, I must admit, I always liked that sexist strategy when I went on dates. You know, when the girl would coo something like, ‘Ohmygod, that filet de bœuf aux échalotes confites et romarin [34€ at La Mare] sounds absolutely yummy,’ you could always delicately imply how some recent cases of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease had been detected in the very region of the restaurant, and then casually mention how La Mare’s chef is internationally famous for the rarely-on-any-menu feuilleté d’encornets sauce homardine [a mere 14€ at La Mare]. Or if you wanted to be a bit more diplomatic, you could always compromise and steer her towards the pavé du cerf-biche, chutney de poires à la vanille, figue rôtie, jus à l’armagnac dish [at 23€ at La Mare], which really sounds good, plus you get the armagnac, which is always a good thing, and you still save 11€ compared to her yummy first choice. I think I digress, so let’s get to the actual dishes we did order.

For starters, after a tasty jump start provided by a crème brule with foie gras mis en bouche, I had chef Laurent Asset’s terrine de haddock (15€) and Co. had the raviolis de langoustines (18€), both of which got the lunch off to an even nicer start. I feared some sort of jellied concoction with the terrine, but instead was happy to receive a multi-layered dish with large chunks of haddock. Very good. You’ll never guess what Co. took for her plate. If you guessed the pavé du cerf-biche, I commend you for your finely honed acumen, but it’s not what you are thinking. First, Co. really likes deer, and second, she ripped the menu with the prices out of my hands before we ordered because she too is a forward-looking girl who doesn’t like to be kept in the dark about things like prices, even if I am paying. Third, it was a special occasion, so I told her from the start, money is no object. I took the assiette de poissons, which consisted of three lightly grilled fish—daurade grise, groudin, and viveneux (18€). We both enjoyed this stage even if our socks weren’t knocked off in the process. For dessert, we both ordered the assiette de dessert (25€), a combination plate of various concoctions that I can’t remember at all, and by that point, I had stopped taking notes. Capped off by coffee (4€ each), the bill totaled 131€, not nearly as outrageous as I suggested at the outset, just a little pricy for a lunch. This included a bottle of Chateau Maine-Bonnet (25€) and a ½ bottle of San Pelegrino (4€).

Eating at La Mare is an experience that goes beyond the food. The restaurant is very secluded (good luck finding it, by the way), the setting is, you guessed right again, pastoral (and idyllic, I might add), and with the little 15th-17th century inspired rooms, you get the impression you are eating in a little chateau. Our waitress/hostess was rather chatty and seemed stimulated by our questions about George Sand, the rumored hotel complex to come in the area, and assorted other topics.

Before reserving, I counsel you to check La Mare’s website to have a look at the various rooms – you can then request the ambiance that suits your desire, including a nice terrace during warm weather months.

Don’t be waylaid by the online reviews that mark the food as disappointing, and don’t let your expectations soar after reading the extremely positive online reviews that are also out there. If you want to get out of the city (about 30 km southeast of Paris) to a decent countryside restaurant with plenty of parking outside, La Mare au Diable is a good choice. My guess is that once the hotel complex is completed, this will be the ideal conference dinner site. And don’t be afraid, I didn’t see any traces of Satan—no doubt he was kicking up his heels 20 minutes down the road at Disneyland Paris.

LA MARE AU DIABLE
Parc du Plessis Picard Reau, D306
77550 REAU
tel: 01 64 10 20 90

La Table d’Erica - Coolin' With Ma Creole Belle

Recently, there seemed to be an interesting program on Creole restaurants on France 24 (otherwise known as ‘France vingt-quatre’), but I’m not positive because I just happened to stumble upon the broadcast twice only in time to see the last five minutes. Anyway, it turns out that during those five minutes, they were interviewing someone associated with the Left Bank restaurant La Table d’Erica – it could have been the illustrious Madame Erica herself, but I wasn’t paying too much attention, as usual the sound was off (French TV is bad enough without having to hear it), and I didn’t get to meet Mme Erica in the flesh until last night.

As soon as I heard the name, I checked out La Table and couldn’t find much beyond the restaurant’s decent web site (with the carte prominently displayed), but I threw caution to the wind and hotfooted it over for dinner with my Canadian friend, The Moose (sometimes referred to simply as ‘Moose’). Moose and I had a couple drinks beforehand at the Café Charbon, one of my favorite watering holes in the capital—and also one of the oldest cafés in Paris—to ease the rather longish trek by metro from Parmentier to rue Mabillon in the St. Germain neighborhood. A large cardboard cutout of Erica stood outside the entrance of the restaurant next to a glass-enclosed menu – check, same as the one online. I love when they do that.

I must admit, during my early days in Paris, I sampled several African/Creole restaurants with a Reunion Island, Seychelles, or Antilles slant. The novelty wore off pretty quickly—cheap but for the most part disappointing. Though I’ll never forget being at a table when a waiter brusquely put down a plate and an olive rolled off onto the table – the waiter grabbed it and virtually threw it back on the plate (tres chic!). So I can’t say my expectations were very high for La Table, but if they talked about it on TV, I figured it couldn’t be that bad, even it was only France 24.

As it turned out, I was right, it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t that great either, but overall, I’d have to say that each dish was well prepared, if not extraordinarily exotic. I opted for the salad marine (7.50€), slices of raw fish marinated in lime. This is a dish I like a lot, but so many times I’ve seen this prepared so unimaginatively that I almost ordered something else. La Table’s preparation was good, the marinated fish surrounding some iceberg lettuce pieces and a slice of lime, but not great. Moose was tempted by the crab farci but opted for the salad mango crab with avocado (7.50€), a dish that seemed to have made ample use of the food shredder. The crab farci (9€) probably would have been the better choice. As for our plates, I went with the pimentade de poisson des iles (16€), a healthy piece of fish (vivaneux) accompanied by some apparently boiled slices of potatoes and other root vegetables. If I hadn’t been talking so much—I hadn’t seen Moose for a while—I could have given the fish more attention and avoided the ample bones. Moose had the calou Creole (16€) , a stew consisting of shrimp, spinach, okra, slices of chicken pork, and a crab leg. This looked to be the better choice, and when I asked Moose how it was, he eloquently pontificated, “It’s pretty good.” Moose, a man of many words. Stuck in-between two other tables as we were, I observed some other noteworthy alternatives – the fried balls of morue (cod) looked well-prepared, better than I’ve seen in other restaurants, not greasy at all (see the accompanying image). The guy to my right, no vegetarian, I can assure you, had a large slab of meat (Colombo de Cabri, young goat?), and the spicy gambas in coconut milk seemed to be a big hit. The dessert menu, perhaps as expected in a Creole restaurant, was limited to fruit, a couple cake selections, and sorbet, in other words, pretty lame. I had the mango and lime scoops to clear the palate, which is exactly what it did (6.50€ for two scoops, not the three they promise at their website).

The best part of the meal by far was the jar of spicy sauce (a kind of crushed pimente that reminded me somewhat of harissa) – especially spicy without being overbearing – such a novelty to have something so perky at a table in Paris, where usually the spiciest condiment offered to accompany the meal is table pepper, and usually you have to ask for that. I should add, we washed down the meal with an inexpensive Bordeaux (16€), which proved perfectly adequate for the task at hand.



The restaurant itself consists of a relatively small room and accompanying half-terrace (where we sat), but it’s a funny place, decked out as if we were there to celebrate somebody’s birthday party. The tables are close together, but the atmosphere is a pretty comfortable and friendly one. In my best French, I tried to strike up a conversation with Erica at the end of the meal, (a) asking if she was Erica (she was) and (b) mentioning the TV show. Erica, a woman apparently of fewer words than Moose, didn’t go for the bait and before I knew it we were paying our reasonable bill of 71.50€. Maybe she was suspicious that I was some sort of famous Paris restaurant blogger and was afraid to misspeak, who knows. Despite that disappointing finish to the meal, I’d say if you’re up for a casual alternative to French cuisine in a lively neighborhood in the Left Bank, put this one on your list.

Just to add, a few steps down the facing street off Mabillon (15, rue Clement) is Coolin, an Irish pub that on the Friday night in question had spilled out onto the street and seemed to be one of the places to be on the relatively early April balmy evening. Inside, the place was packed, hot, and reeking of beautiful young things, out for some innocent (but I’m sure) Left Bank dancing, partying, but especially, SMS messaging. Why did I have the impression I was back at a college mixer (without the cellphones) circa 1975?: ZZ-Top and the Doobie Brothers blasting at eardrum-shattering levels, somebody’s daughter dancing on a table, and me gulping my pint of Guinness as quickly as possible so as to bolt back to a place where there was air to breathe. Alas, maybe I’m getting too old for that scene, but hey, it never hurts to try (except in the knees).

LA TABLE D'ERICA
6, rue Mabillon
Paris 75006
tel: 01 43 54 87 61

COOLIN PUB
15, RUE CLÉMENT
tel: 01 44 07 00 92

Springtime in Finland

Finland – this reviewer’s first foray into the beyond for ’09. Departing Aeroport Charles de Gaulle on a rare sunny, Spring-is-in-the-air sort of morning, I quickly learned that Spring means something quite different in Lapland. As my plane descended from the clouds, the effect was startling – what started in color transformed into black and white. True, I never made it to Lapland, limiting my visit to Turku and Vaasa in the southwest, but I did learn that Springtime in those Finnish locales consists of a 10-inch snowstorm and –12C temperatures. Fortunately, I learned those meteorological details upon my return to Paris, having missed the fresh burst of Winter by one day. Nonetheless, the already snowy terrain and temperatures lurking around zero put me in the mood for some hearty grub. Hardly known as a gastronomical wonderland, it is my firm belief that there are gems to be found even in culinary wastelands like Finland; I’m happy to report that I was not disappointed. Seek and you shall find.

First up, Fransmanni. This chain restaurant was coincidentally selected as the go-to place by my hosts as I arrived in both cities, Turku by plane and Vaasa by train (or, more accurately, Vaasa by four trains). I don’t know if that was a happy accident, a lack of imagination, or simply a Finnish custom whereby when you take your guest from France to dinner, you take him to a restaurant which in Finnish means ‘French man.’ Whichever, I was surprised to see that Fransmanni evokes both exceptional good (‘food is great and dear’) and exceptionally bad reviews (‘food – inedible’) online. I would have to say that based on my two experiences, I fall somewhere in the middle and concur with the self-appraisal on the restaurant’s website – to wit, ‘homely and unpretentious’. Of my four dishes across two dinners, the main dish of fried perch fillets (19.90€) breaded with crushed rye biscuits, chanterelle sauce, mashed potatoes and oven-roasted root vegetables truly excelled. Light, flaky, and tasty fresh fish. One appetizer, recommended by my host as a Finnish specialty also rated a thumbs up – Fransmanni’s salmon rillette (8.90€), described on the menu as slightly smoked salmon in spiced mayonnaise, marinated shrimps, red onion, tomatoes, dark French Blé Noir bread and basil pistou. Less satisfying was the Fisherman’s scallops (10.70€) appetizer (two – count them - two scallops, lettuce, tomatoes, artichoke, red onion, roasted pumpkin seeds, balsamic syrup, and lobster sauce). The pumpkin seeds were a nice touch, but overall, a forgettable dish. Somewhat disappointing was the other main dish of Provence fish and shellfish casserole (15.90€), comprised of mussels, salmon, shrimps, mushrooms, fava beans and onion in creamy white wine broth, with baked potato. For my taste, this dish was a bit on the rich side – I couldn’t finish it. In short, when in Fransmanni, go native – order Finnish dishes and leave the French cooking to the French.

Fransmanni Turku Sokos Hotel Hamburger Börs
Kauppiaskatu 6
tel. (02) 337 3241
Fransmanni Vaasa Radisson SAS Royal Hotel Vaasa
Hovioikeudenpuistikko 18
tel. (06) 212 8240


The highlight of my Turku dining experiences was found at the relatively
new, somewhat trendy Mami restaurant, located in downtown Turku along the Aura riverbank. I started off with the Savulohta entrée (10€) – salmon with beetroot marinated in balsamic vinegar accompanied by small strips of marinated dark rye bread. I loved this dish. This was followed by a main dish of gnocchi in rosemary butter, with zucchini, eggplant, and roasted peppers (17€). Gnocchi is not one of my favorites, but ordered out of necessity – the three other main dishes did not appeal to me. Evidently prepared with care, not unnecessarily complicated, it was a satisfying, if not exactly memorable dish. Two refreshing additions that are all-too uncommon in French restaurants – an interesting selection of breads, and a global wine list. On my own, and shaken by the lofty prices of bottles, I opted for a couple glasses of Argentinian Pinot Noir and a couple Spanish Cabernets (each priced 6.20€ a glass).

Mami, how I love ya – but get with the program and start up a website. Nice little restaurant, recommended if you’re ever in Turku. And one final advantage – you can drink all the wine you want without worrying about falling into the river on your way home. In Springtime, the Aura is still frozen.

Restaurant Mami
Linnankatu 3, 20100 Turku
Tel. +358 (0)2 231 1111


No matter who I asked in Vaasa for restaurant advice, I received the same two recommendations – Gustav Wasa and Bacchus. I checked out the online menus and found the two restaurants rather comparable. As people always mentioned Gustav first (thus negating Bacchus’s alphabetical advantage), I used that as a sign. The restaurant itself is a converted coal cellar with an extensive wine cellar. So if you are afraid of heights, this is the restaurant for you. Overall, I had a very satisfying and enjoyable dinner there, albeit a bit on the pricey side.

I started with the confit of salmon with escargot and bacon vinegrette (12.50€), which I highly recommend. Delicately prepared, the marinated rectangle of salmon nearly melted in my mouth. The limited list of alternative entrees consisted of blini with burbot roe and liver or rabbit consomé. For the main dish, I opted for the piked perch accompanied by goat cheese and almond potato (25€), foregoing the tempting partridge dish and the exotic reindeer option. The grilled fish was satisfying, but the highlight of this dish was the chevre, prepared with beetroot and honey. Let me tell you, until my visit to Finland, had you offered, I would have told you that you could keep your beets. In fact, get them as far away from me as possible. Once you combine deep red beet slices with chevre, throw a little honey on top, there’s no turning back. It’s a bit unsettling watching your white goat cheese turn all pink and everything, but try it, you’ll like it. A distinct taste that for years to come, I am sure, will evoke memories of springtime in Finland. According to my waitress, this is a Russian specialty. The Russians got this one right. For dessert, I went with one of my favorites, nougat with nuts and chocolate ice cream. This was a rather odd preparation of the dish – the nougat consisted of a somewhat chewy concoction, but once the whole mess started to integrate, the overall effect wasn’t bad at all. By the way, I should add that the meal was accompanied by two mise-en-bouches, one before the entrée, and the other before dessert. Both were interestingly prepared and tasty, but I can’t tell you what they were because I lost the little piece of paper on which I described them. If I find the paper, I’ll get back to you.

Once again, the wine list was international, with a good selection by the glass. I’m a sucker for Spanish Riojas, so I started with Domino de Ugarte Reserva 2004, outrageously priced at 18.50€ for 24cl. What's life without a little outrage? I’m never disappointed with a Rioja, but at that price I expected something spectacular. This one fell far short. I followed that up with a few glasses of a more reasonably priced (9.90€ a glass) Chilean Merlot, Varietel 2006 Maule Valley. Given the wine list, I was a bit bemused by the Asian diner sitting alone at the table in front of mine when he ordered a Coke and then proceeded to diligently photograph every single development that unfolded at his table. I asked him about the reindeer dish on my way out. His response: “Good. My second time. Tastes like beef.” Everybody's a critic.

Restaurant Gustav Wasa
Rådhusgatan 24
65100 Vasa
Phone: +358 50 466 3208
Web site: http://www.gustavwasa.com

Hotaru - Wait, I Didn't Say 'Simon Says'!

Although I'm not quite ready to challenge noted French restaurant critic Monsieur Francois Simon to a duel, I feel that maybe he at least owes me a drink. A very big drink. Being the ever-compliant and exuberantly fledgling critic that I am, I duly loaded up my credit cards and proceeded to check out the culinary wonders of two of Simon's recent 'don't miss them' Parisian eating establishments, Le Baratin (panned here a couple installments ago) and, last week, Hotaru, the relatively new Japanese restaurant in the 9th.

Another laudatory online review for Hotaru preceded my visit, that of Richard Hesse, the restaurant critic of note for Paris Update. Though I feel his effusive praise for Hotaru also overdone, I wholeheartedly agree with his first two 'cons':
• Not cheap.
• The waitresses are lovely, but not easy to communicate with if you don’t speak Japanese.
And I can't say I disagree with his number one 'pro':
• Truly fresh fish

But I'm jumping ahead of myself. This was another solo affair on my part, again having planned dinner before a concert. I arrived shortly after the 7:30 pm opening time to find an Asian couple well into whatever they were eating - a large platter of some kind of fresh fish. By the time I packed up and left, around 9:15 pm, they were still ordering large platters of sushi and sashimi, washed down with pitcher after pitcher of, I presume, saki. I shudder to think of their bill, which had to hover well over the 200 euro mark. But I must admit, those platters looked mighty tasty.

At the outset, I humbly admit that I always have the feeling that I order wrong at Japanese restaurants. Having had plenty of opportunities to savor fresh raw fish in my long storied career as a diner, I usually opt for alternative dishes. And so I did at Hotaru. The menu itself was intimidating - long and complex and, don't forget, I didn't plan on spending the entire evening. So I took a shortcut and ordered completely off the little tabletop blackboard of chef's suggestions with its listings of entrees on one side and plates and desserts on the other. I am a big fan of tofu served in restaurants - one of the few opportunities I have to appreciate a dish that, in my opinion, is best served lightly fried on the outside and warm and soft inside (only rarely do I succeed at this in my own kitchen). Give me a well-prepared peanut sauce to accompany a large plate and you will find one happy camper at your table. There's a place in Baltimore, I could tell you about - disappointing in virtually every other category, but their tofu entree is memorable. But I digress. No surprise, then, I ordered the Hotaru tofu entree (9€), and followed that up with a fresh scallops plate with Japanese salad, the so-called Hotate fry (21€).

Ordering was no small chore. Remember Hesse's second con? Well, this turned out to be a con in more ways than one. I'm speaking of the wine. Try though she might, my waitress, with a limited facility in both English and French, seemed utterly perplexed by my question about whether I could order a half bottle of wine. Most restaurants, this is not a problem, and usually there are at least a couple demi-bouteilles on the carte. As she edged precariously closer to tears, she was rescued by another waitress who appeared to have a bit more seniority, as well as a few more words in her English and/or French (I can't remember anymore which) vocabulary. We arrived at a compromise. I would order a wine of my choosing by the glass, and before I would know it, I will have consumed a half bottle of wine. My big mistake, and I promise myself, it is a mistake I will not make again. I opted for one of my favorite reds, a St. Nicolas de Bourgueil (Les Perruches, 2006) at 7.50€ a glass. Before I had the opportunity to do my calculations in light of my projected consumption, I had already blown the chance to order a full bottle and save myself a couple euros in the process. Oh, well, you can't take it to your grave.

Moving on...first course, Hotaru tofu. A long wait for this baby, why, I don't know, because what arrived at the table was a small soup bowl. Planted in the middle was a little square of uncooked tofu in a puddle of what tasted like a soy/fish sauce combination. Resting on top of the tofu square was a tiny dab of wasabi paste. I maintained a pathetic smile on my face as I downed this dish in all of about one minute. And I took my time. Maybe because I love tofu so much or perhaps because chef Isao Ashibe prepared the bean curd concoction through some sort of magical coagulation of soy milk, or some combination of these possibilities, the tofu was silky and tasty. Nonetheless, I was expecting something quite different, more satisfying, original, and substantial. This was way too minimalistic for my taste. Thumbs down on the chef's suggestion for the entree. (The accompanying photo is not the actual dish I ate at the restaurant, but using a little imagination --pretend the little smiley face isn't there, you'll get the picture.)

The main dish was much better. The five pan-fried scallops with a light batter were good-sized and very fresh. They arrived on the same plate as a salad composed of a green lettuce and a white diced cabbage. It was difficult enough to have the waitress explain the sauce that came in a miniature pitcher. Sorry, but I can't explain her explanation (see Hesse's second con again). The sauce was relatively thick, but poured easily over the scallops and salad. I love sauces, virtually any kind of sauces, but this one was not completely pleasing, and a bit too salty for my taste (too much soy sauce again, I imagine). By the way, I almost forgot, again, as I failed to ask for rice when I ordered (assuming it would come with the dish). As she brought the scallop plate, the waitress asked, late as it was, if I wanted rice. Five times I had to repeat, 'oui, riz gluant, s'il vous plait.' Now my French is pitiful, but this is an expression I have had ample opportunities to practice during my years in France, so I think this would have been understandable to a two-year-old who knew anything about Asian food. (Pronounced, 'ree-glue-ahnt' am I right, or am I right?). But my waitress just didn't get it, and neither did I. If the rice I received was 'gluant' (i.e., sticky), it wasn't noticeable.

I started wondering, as I dug into the scallops with my wooden chopsticks, what would have happened if I had suddenly grabbed my chest, fallen to the floor, and started moaning 'ee-ooh-ant,' 'ee-ooh-ant'? Probably someone would have excitedly shouted, 'my word, this man needs some riz gluant!' Now my riz gluant request was much more comprehensible than that, so you wonder, what was my waitress's problem?

Although I hadn't originally intended to order dessert, given time constraints, I picked up quite a few extra minutes with that entree quickie and so I ordered the tantalizing green tea cheesecake dessert. Well, this turned out to be pretty interesting, although nothing like ecstasy-inducing cheesecakes I'm more familiar with back in the States. Two small triangles of green cheesecake arrived on a plate with a ball of ice cream, a handful of large grapes, peach slices, and a small mound of something sweet and brown that was never explained, but worked in the overall scheme of things. An interesting effort and a decent, though unspectacular, end to the meal.

The L-shaped dining room consists of about 30 seats and a bar. As described at the Internaute website, the room bears an ambiance "izakaya" (bistrot japonais), warm and sympathetic. Izakaya is another way of saying the spartan dining area is unobtrusive and uninteresting, especially when most of those 30 seats are empty, as they were during my visit. Only one other couple arrived during my meal, although perhaps this is the sort of place where people wander in well after 9 pm, I can't say because I was long gone. Where is your clout, Monsieur Simon? So that brings me to the final point, the con job I alluded to earlier. After having downed approximately 2-1/2 glasses of wine from the bottle, duly left on the table, I was charged 22.50€ for three glasses, a price I am more used to spending for a full bottle. I have no one to blame but myself for letting myself fall into that little trap. Nonetheless, my credit card would have suffered a much more substantial blow had I opted for one of the several rice wines listed on the menu. If you have to ask the price, then forget about ordering one of those. The glasses of wine helped jack my total bill up to 66€ (see Hesse's first con).

So what's the verdict on Hotaru? I'd say that it is a decent Japanese restaurant that is way over-rated by the two aforementioned critics. But as I pointed out earlier, I usually order wrong in Japanese restaurants, so maybe you'll have better luck. Like the other Japanese restaurants in Paris, it is not cheap. But if you have a couple hundred euros burning a hole in your wallet for some apparently tasty raw fish platters, put this one on your list. But, wait, I didn't say 'Simon Says.'

HOTARU
18, rue Rodier 75009 Paris
tel: 01 48 78 33 74
Métro: Notre Dame de Lorette

Urbane - Lonesome Ride

Not sure I’ll return, but my dinner at the still relatively new spot in the 10th behind the Canal St. Martin, Urbane, was pretty satisfying. Co. left me high, but definitely not dry, last Friday night, off to an 8 p.m. flamenco performance, while I had a Gang Gang Dance concert slated at Point Ephemere on the Quai de Valmy. After reading the Simon Says installment on restaurants in the 10th – that is, in the vicinity of the Quai de Valmy – I opted for Urbane after reading how its main drawback was the rush to get you away from your table. Perfect, I thought – by my calculations, GGD would get on stage after another useless opening act by about 9:30 p.m., so if I reserved Urbane for 8 p.m., figuring on arriving a little early and being rushed out the door quickly enough, I could make it to the Point in time. No sense risking the typical Paris venue where the slow dance tends to be the order of the day. But, alas, my good plans, as we well know to be the case with the best laid plans, were doomed from the start. After checking out the concert announcements on lastfm.com before heading off, I learned that tragedy had befallen GGD in Amsterdam, where they kicked off their European tour a couple nights earlier. After their concert, an electrical fire effectively destroyed all their equipment, forcing them to cancel the rest of their tour. Disappointed that there would be no musical aftermath to my dinner, I nonetheless headed off to Urbane, after a few gulps of Knockandoo, at least armed with the knowledge that I could take my good old time.

As the first patron of the evening, I received a warm welcome from the Irish owner Audrey, who engaged me in a short conversation (in English, praise the gods!) about the book I had in hand, Stieg Larsson’s epic The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Two rather small separated rooms housing seating for around 40 gave off, as has been described elsewhere, a ‘shabby-chic’ aura. Small square tables covered by an interesting black & white table mat (see photo) upon which rested a quickly lit candle adorned the rooms. Pretty laid back, café feel to the front room where I was situated. By dessert, both rooms were just about filled, but it was still only Audrey and her one other person wait-staff handling all the action. Much to my appreciation, a basket of freshly warmed bread arrived - such a simple thing, to warm bread, hint, hint. As I am wont to do, I opted for the 30€ three-course menu.

Following a tasty amuse bouche (two small marinated squares of salmon), I started with the entrée of oysters a marche de Marene on a bed of vegetables and Japanese noodles. The description really piqued my interest, but in practice, it turned out to be rather disappointing. Arrayed on a small rectangular plate anchored on the left by an empty oyster shell filled with your typical oyster vinegrette, I counted a mere three oysters on top of the super thin white noodles with carrots and a few other assorted vegetables. This tasted good enough, but there was nothing very special about the dish. The week before, my entrée at Ze Kitchen Galerie included three oysters along with some healthy morsels of King Crab and a couple snails. So it wouldn’t have hurt to have included a couple more oysters at Urbane and spiced up the dish a bit. I’m not a chef, but I have faith in Audrey’s husband Olivier Maindroult, the chef formerly of Darroze and Choukroun’s. I should add that I almost opted for the haddock chowder, a unique dish I haven’t seen on other Parisian menus.

Moving on, I found the main dish more satisfying – pintade grille with thyme and a purée of potatoes, the dish heavily sparkled with pieces of pomegranate. The pintade consisted of a leg and thigh and was grilled to perfection – the pomegranate added significantly to the overall flavor of the dish. Not very exotic, but a solid choice. The highlight of the evening was dessert, a myrtle cheesecake. Try finding a good cheesecake in Paris – the real thing. This one came close. On my own lonesome ride out on a Friday night, I almost opted for a half bottle of wine before coming to my senses and ordering a full bottle, a 2007 Gamay priced at a mere 16€. Four-fifths down, the room started spinning and I yearned for Co. to kill off the last fifth of the somewhat insufficiently aerated bottle. Alas, she had answered the call of the flamenco and it slowly dawned on me that somebody at Urbane had probably come across Simon Say’s remark about being rushed. The service was excellent, but by the end when I was yearning for some fresh air, the pace had slowed to a crawl.

One big thumbs up for a concept I hadn’t encountered before in any of the restaurants I’ve reviewed to this point – between the two rooms, a DJ had set up to provide musical accompaniment to the meal. Now don’t get me wrong – in my book, Paris DJ and fine dining do not compute, and I would not like to see any sort of trend commence. But at Urbane, the music was finely chosen and unobtrusive – a lot of the unlabelled ambient and lo-core stuff I have on my trusty iRiver.

Being the sole lone diner makes one feel a bit circumspect, but I have an obligation to my readers and duty called. But it did provide a rare opportunity to concentrate a bit on the grazing habits of the so-called Parisian dining species. One interesting observation that struck me was how long some early arrivers had to wait before the rest of their table arrived. One couple sat at their table, stomachs growling to a frightening crescendo during the nearly one hour they waited for their empathically-deprived cohort to careen through the door. They weren’t alone. Fellow lonesome riders on a Friday night out in the City of Lights.

Grand total for one (lonesome me): 48.50 euros (with coffee)


URBANE
12 rue Arthur Groussier 75010 Paris tel: 01 42 40 74 75 website : www.myspace.com/urbaneparis

Note : Ride Lonesome, a 1969 Randolph Scott (as Ben Brigade) oater, directed by Bruce Boetticher. Well worth a look.

Ze Kitchen Galerie: St. Valentine Hits the Spot

This one has been on my radar for some time, I think dating back to when Pariscope used to carry the essential little Paris Time Out English guide in the back of the magazine. Better late than never, I reserved for a pre-V-Day dinner, hoping to avoid the Saturday night throngs out celebrating the big day for romance. Never one to hold superstition in the way of a good meal, I snorted disdain at the precarious warnings of Friday the 13th and booked a good three weeks in advance. The rest is history.

If being escorted to a corner table in the rear of the restaurant, sandwiched in-between the large glass separating the open-to-view kitchen and the couple at the next table close enough for us to sense the tremors of their beating romantic hearts is your idea of a romantic dinner, then ask for table no. 24 when you reserve. That was where yours truly & Co. were installed. But in fact, it’s not as bad as it sounds. The alternative was being sandwiched between four beating romantic hearts. As it was, the proximity of the table to my left gradually evaporated into thin air (assuming that ‘proximity’ is capable of evaporating into anything, pardon my grammatical construction, svp) with each subsequent glass of wine. Plus, I was too transfixed by the entertaining spectacle taking place in the kitchen on my right, for which we had a front-row seat. I counted a staff of eleven carrying out a finely choreographed routine of dish preparations, all under the watchful eye of chef William Ledeuil, who was awarded "Chef of the Year" by GaultMillau Paris Guide in 2006. On to the food.

As is my wont, I didn’t enter Ze Kitchen tabula rasa, but had done some reading online beforehand. What I learned is that this is another restaurant that tends to polarize people. Over at the Chowhound site, PhilD lamented how perplexed he was by the rave reviews accorded Ze Kitchen and related how ‘distinctly unimpressed’ he had been by a couple of meals there last summer, decrying out-of-balanced flavors and jarring juxtapositions of the restaurant’s benchmark east/west fusion theme. LikeFrogButOOOH responded that he never experienced those problems and generally found Ze Kitchen’s meals extremely well-executed. I have to put myself in LikeFrog’s corner on this one. Eschewing the 75€ (or somewhere in that ballpark) ‘discovery menu’—which our waiter described as a 3-3-2 tour of the menu (with half portions of ala carte selections), we opted for the ala carte trifecta (entreé, plat, dessert) to accompany our slightly bitter, but very satisfying bottle of 2005 Madiran ‘Meinjarre’ (22€ red, comme habitude). Feeling it impolitic to take photos of my soon-to-be-consumed food, I hereby present some previous Ze Kitchen concoctions, borrowed from A Moveable Feast's blog:





Ze Kitchen’s web site includes a now dated facsimile of the carte, but it should give you a general idea of what we were offered: two crustacé and poisson marinée entreé selections (huitres, King crabe, & bulots vs. St. Jacques Marinées), a selection of bouillons and pâtes, five choices of Plats à la Plancha, and a selection of desserts. We selected both of the marinated seafood/fish entrées (21€ each), the grilled cabillaud and shoulder/breast lamb plates (32€ and 34€, respectively), each of which was interestingly prepared—it is modern, fusion cooking afterall—and, sorry PhilD, balanced and refined. If I elaborate on my selections, at first I was a little perplexed at the oysters+King crab+snails marinated entreé, but it grew tastier with each bite. The presentation didn’t make much sense—where to begin?, etc.—but it worked anyway. I was left with a green sauce that I cannot begin to describe, but I sopped it up with my spoon, took another drink of wine, and started feeling my own beating romantic tremors. The grilled cabillaud was awesome. Grilled only slightly, the fish was lightly cooked to perfection and surrounded by steamed vegetables whose origins and names I could not begin to surmise. Let’s just say they were vegetables that had come from Planet X, but they were superb. But the highlight of the evening, by far, was the white chocolate ice cream Wasabi dessert (11.20€), which both Co. and I opted for after I happened upon some favorable comments online. Don’t ask me to describe it—just go and order it. You’ll find out.

On the downside, Ze Kitchen offers no amuse bouche to speak of, save a small bowl of tasty black olives, nor does it offer any interesting little cakes to accompany the end-of-meal espresso. For a Michelin one-star restaurant, you’d think that would be standard operating procedure, and it never hurts to put a little more effort into the little things like that. The restaurant itself is chic and finely appointed, but not snobbish—the fashionable crowd was pretty laid back and it was a comfortable evening, despite the closeness of the tables, and our waiter (who had the odd habit of sneaking up behind me) was young, friendly and helpful. The service, criticized elsewhere online, was flawless—plates arriving and departing on schedule and without much adieu. The table problem, by the way, can be avoided by double-dating—there were some more isolated tables for four scattered around the room. Finally, I didn’t mention why it’s called Ze Kitchen Galerie, but I assume that should be obvious from the accompanying photos. The restaurant serves as a gallery of a sort, with modern paintings lining the walls, all available for purchase. Ze Kitchen’s left bank next-door neighbor is another noted Parisian restaurant in the same price range, Les Bouquinistes—without exception, the Internauts agree that Ze Kitchen is your better bet. I haven’t yet tried the Bouqs, so I’ll pass on that account.

Overall, if you are tired of traditional, classical French cooking and up for some modern, unusual fusion, I recommend Ze Kitchen Galerie. Well deserving of its Michelin rating, we clocked in at a respectable 157€.

ZE KITCHEN GALERIE 4, rue des Grands Augustins 75006 Paris tel. 01 44 32 00 32
website: www.zekitchengalerie.fr

Kings of the Bs : Le Baratin and Bigarrade

The nouvelle vague (Bigarade) vs. the institution (Le Baratin), the former before the new year and the latter last weekend. Both visits were highly anticipated, given the laudatory reviews I’ve come across for both in recent months. I cut to the chase.

Bigarrade was a reasonable alternative to my first choice, last season’s absolute must(!)Parisian restaurant, Spring. You’ve probably already read about Spring in The New York Times, but less likely you’ve eaten there, unless you know somebody who knows someone who can swing a reservation for you. You see, the new trend in Parisian restaurants is minimalism, with a little ‘m’. So it’s dog eat dog to get to one of the 3 or 4 tables that comprise the dining room. I was informed by phone that I could probably get a slot sometime after 2011, so I kindly passed and dialed Bigarrade. Same concept, easier to reserve – I clocked in at slightly under three weeks, or as they say, before next Spring.

Like it’s minimalistic cousin, Bigarrade works on the Spring-like concept of fixed menus – 35€ or 45€ and that, mon ami, is all they tell you when you order. A visit to the web site won't help either - its been 'under construction' for months, but you can watch a cool little video there about the restaurant. Co. & I opted for the 45€, throwing caution to the wind – who knows if it will be as easy to reserve next time. This was a couple months ago, and I vaguely recall around six courses, give or take an amuse bouche here or a petit plat there. Our waiter refused at the end of the meal to give me a list of the courses, so I can only detail what I scrawled into my little cheat sheet notebook. But then, it doesn’t matter anyway – although perhaps some components will reappear, the set of courses changes every night. (Check the minimalistic gallery of photos below for some sample Bigarrade dishes.) So if you like the sound of what follows, don’t exactly expect to get it when you eat there. One standard, however, seems to be the initial offering, a kind of pre-amuse bouche – a small square of focaccia bread served warm with an intense olive oil. The only drawback to this tasty morsel is that there wasn’t more.

This was followed by the actual amuse bouche, a carrot mousse with vinagrette. Relying on my scrawls, I noted a foie gras with fig and honey jelly, torteu bleu creme de chou-fleur, truffaud de canard fieileté (sic), st. pierre avec petits legumes, etc. I know, this is a pretty lame description, but like I said, you’re not going to get it anyway.




Christophe PELE opened Bigarrade in 2007 and he pairs up with Giuliano SPERENZI as the dueling chefs. There’s a lot of preparation that goes into each course. I know this because the open-to-view kitchen was right behind Co., so even though I spent much of the evening gazing intently into her lovely turquoise gray eyes, I managed to watch the action in the kitchen out of my peripheral vision. Much experimentation with interesting ingredients, such as uzu kushu, mojama, fleurs de coriandre, aneth, mouron des oiseaux . . . Be forewarned, however, that I do not use the word ‘minimalistic’ lightheartedy. So, the courses were tasty, but when you desired to have a couple more bites, they just weren't there. Nonetheless, with six (or so) courses, you don’t exactly leave with the idea of popping over to Chinatown on the way home for some curried duck and nems. And before I forget – the dessert was, by Parisian nouvelle vague standards at least, pretty copious – an assortment of four different items that we were instructed to eat in a correct order - they got progressively better (how do they do that?). All washed down with a bottle of red, whose name has long since vanished into the nouvelle vague.

BIGARRADE
106, rue nollet
75017 Paris tel. 01 42 26 01 02


Next up was Le Baratin, a totally different concept from the trendy Spring and Bigarrade. Le Baratin is a Belleville institution, an old wine bar that has some of the top Parisian restaurant critics moaning in ecstasy. For example, François Simon, controversial food critic of Le Figaro, recently profiled in The New York Times: Here’s what Monsieur Simon had to say about Le Baratin recently (my thanks to Google translator):

“Simplicity out of wells, naked and tasty.

The address of the crazy food. Unbeatable.

Attention, you have to go to form, as is the rush "decibel."


Okay, that is how many French really talk, but I agree, something was lost in translation. Anyway, it’s the thought that counts, and his thought is that we’re talking here about one of the top bistrots, albeit a noisy one (re: decibel) in Paris at the moment. As is the rumor, this is where some of the great Parisian chefs come to sit down and dine when they’re not working. Elsewhere, Alexander Lobrano devoted four full pages in his Hungry for Paris book to Le Baratin, where he wrote a review that makes one take note. His ‘in a word’ summary: “A first-rate bistrot à vin in a far-from-the-madding-crowd location in Belleville. This is the type of place that Parisians guardedly share with friends. . .” And earlier, “a buzzy, unpretentious place with a smart, sexy, arty crowd, a fabulous chalkboard menu, and a slightly bluff style.” If you think these points make more sense than Simon’s above, it is because they were written in English and thus did not necessitate Google’s torturous attempt at sense-making. Still, does anyone out there know what is a ‘bluff style’?

If you read between the lines of Lobrano’s comments, the truth begins to coalesce. But at the outset, let me dispel the false notion that you will find a ‘sexy’ crowd at La B. Unless your idea of ‘sexy’ is those winter hunting caps with the stupid ear flaps hanging down. ‘La vie boheme’ indeed- ‘arty,’ yes, if we’re talking turn of the century I haven’t washed in three weeks kind of arty.

I may not rank up there yet with M. Simon, but here’s what I have to say about this unbearably over-rated bistrot, keeping in mind that our experience leading up to this ‘far from the madding crowd location,’ but not far from the madding parked cars part of town, was anything but pleasant and left us in a pretty foul mood before entering the restaurant. First, we got lost in the labyrinth of one-way streets in the Belleville area, then spent an inordinate amount of time until, praise the gods, an illegal place to park materialized. Forget legal – that’s more difficult than reserving at Spring before 2011. That done, we proceeded to check out la vie boheme. I definitely felt overdressed - maybe if I had vomited on my shirt before we entered, I would have felt more at home. The food was pretty good, but maybe only a couple notches above typical bistrot fare.

The reviews led me to expect creative wonders from Argentinian chef Raquel Carena. I won’t deny the word ‘sincere,’ used by another reviewer. Memorable? Not very. I started off with an appetizer of caille with grapes and nuts. It arrived completely cold and that didn’t seem right. After asking, I was informed that it was no mistake – cold by intention. I don’t have a problem with that if something magical materializes in the taste as a result. But the fact that I was compelled to ask suggests to me that it didn’t work as intended. I followed this up with a tasty lotte preparation, with a subtle tomato sauce on a bed of potatoes that did tricks with my eyes – it looked like rice, it felt like rice, but it wasn’t rice. The crumble for dessert was surprisingly ordinary. Co. liked her lamb, but that’s all she remembers.

I cannot explain the effusive reviews for Le Baratin. This is supposed to be one of
those real Parisian experiences. I don’t deny it, the two small crammed rooms, with interesting locally produced paintings on the walls say ‘Paris’ with a capital P. But what do you expect? It is Paris. Maybe it's just that standards have fallen so low. In a word, Parisian neighborhood bistrot, food above average, but certainly not gourmand by any stretch of the imagination. Three courses (me) + two courses (Co.) + bottle of red = 99€. Others have proclaimed Le Baratin the best lunch deal in Paris (15€), so if you’re going to try it, lunch might be the way to go.

LE BARATIN

3 Rue Jouye Rouve
75020 Paris
tel: 01 43 49 39 70
(suggestion : take the metro ! - Pyrénées)

Note : Kings of the Bs : Working Within the Hollywood System (edited by Todd McCarty & Charles Flynn) – one of the great books about the movies.