Le Gaigne - Another Winner

Le Gaigne, close enough to the French 'gagner' (to win) and 'gagnant' (winner) to project a boastful, winning facade even before one enters, but the name itself is reference to owner and chef with the strong pedigree and substantial CV, Mickael Gaignon.

Am I detecting a pattern here? Small storefront restaurant just off the beaten path of a trendy quarter (I counted a mere 12 tables at Le Gaigne), run by a dynamic and young couple - he of culinary expertise manning the kitchen, she of efficient and amiable hosting and serving in the dining room, evidence of a creative flair in the dishes (sometimes a hit, sometimes a miss, but who's counting?), fresh produce, unique ingredients, modestly priced menus and a decent price/quality rapport. If this reminds you of some of my previous reviews (see Fabrique 4, L'Agrume), then I rest my case.

Co. and I reached Le Gagne, which sits on the edge of the Marais, following a leisurely stroll that commenced at the Forum Les Halles. Three or four blocks along rue Rambuteau, past Beaubourg (Pompidou Center), navigating around the hordes of tourists in the center of Paris on a mild Friday, August evening, past the little cheesecake shop that I fortunately espied for the first time (but certainly not the last), one reaches the tiny rue Pecquay and the now off-white restaurant Le Gaigne. Lucky enough to reserve on their last weekend before the restaurant joins everyone else on vacation until the end of August, I wasn't expecting much of a crowd during our meal, bearing in mind that a 'crowd' in Le Gagne would comprise about 20 patrons. And as it turned out, as we entered around 8:30 pm. we had our choice of all but one table, the one occupied by a sole woman contentedly already having begun her first course, working on an especially difficult New York Times crossword puzzle (I'm still only half done myself). Well, it didn't take long for the restaurant to fill up, until only one tiny, lonely table remained unoccupied, it's intended diners having bailed without notice, much to the chagrin of the couples, sans reservation, who were turned away during the course of the evening.

Le Gaigne's carte changes on the first of each month, but can be consulted online prior to one's visit (September's will appear on August 31). The relatively short August menu, a continuation of July's for obvious reasons (August only equals one week in this case) nonetheless posed more than one difficult choice dilemma, easily leading us to opt for the 5-course menu degustation. I guess I can gripe about the fact that Le Gaigne doesn't offer the standard menu for dinner (lunch offers a 17€ two-plate menu and 23€ three-plater), but the 42€ menu degustation is a great deal, and relatively speaking, the far better alternative to ala carte. For an additional 17€, your dishes come accompanied by three glasses of wine (Sancerre 'Les Grands Champs' blanc, Cotes de Brouilly 'Les Muses', and a Muscat de Rivesaltes 'Chateau les Pins'). Never having understood the point of vin blanc, I went the traditional route and selected a Bourgogne Pinot Noir (29€) and was glad I did.

On to the food. Up first was a millefeuille de legumes aux olives noires de
Kalamata, a delicately prepared entree that was summer refreshing, with (if memory serves me correctly) pieces of cauliflower, green beans, and eggplant (see photo - the one I got without anyone looking). I don't think the payoff warranted the obvious amount of preparation that went into this dish, but it was a more than functional start. As is often the case with menu degustations, portions often are about mid-size what you can expect if you just order the damn dish off the carte, but happily, M. Gaignon didn't scimp here, but instead presented the full-size version. This was followed by a plate consisting of two croquettes de queue et pied de veau au curry, requettes et amandes fraiches, salade de sucrine et lange de veau (try saying that five times in a row as quickly as you can). Not a veal eater myself, I was granted permission to exchange dish 2 with one of the following from the ala carte menu: (a) Filets de sardine farcis d'une creme d'avocat a la brunoise de radis et concombre, artichaut poivrade marine, or (b) Poelee de champignons du moment, marmelade d'oignons de Trebons, omelette aux oeufs bio de la ferme de Champignolles. I was torn, and sans coin in my pocket, drum roll please, I chose (b). Bingo - this was a terrific dish, the taste growing in complexity as I delved deeper, the rectangular slab of omelette with onion marmelade topping providing a nice counterbalance to the mushrooms. A highlight.

Moving on to stage 3, the fish dish, which consisted of a relatively small filet de daurade cuit au plat et brandade, coulis de persil, pommes-de-terre grenaille mitraille aux oignons nouveaus. I really appreciated the complements to the fish with crispy skin intact, a tasty mound of brandade and the accompanying dish of small rounded potatoes with persil and 'new' (whatever that means) tasty onions. Dish four was perhaps the most inventive - Lapin en trois facons, aubergines grillees, poelee de courgettes. None of the three rabbit preparations looked anything like you would imagine a rabbit dish, and without attempting to describe them, please just take my word for it. Another hit. At this point in the festivities, one has the option to take a cheese detour with a nuage de camembert fermier, but it'll cost you an additional 3€ supplement (M. Gaignon, come on, why not just throw it in the deal?). I overheard the crossword woman really raving about this dish to a couple of guys at the next table, and if I had still been hungry, and a little less drunk, I would have sprung for it and been in a position to explain what the fuss was about. To finish up, for dessert we received a plate of peches pochees, parfait glace a la verveine, meringue et noisettes caramelisees. Call me strange, please, but I am not a big fan of peaches. Still, even beyond the half poached peach (try saying that . . ., oh forget it) there was enough about this rather original dish to keep it interesting, especially the minty verveine leaf and the caramelized nuts.

Overall, a very satisfying, relaxing, August meal in the up and coming storefront category of the Parisian gastronomique scene. I'm looking forward to checking out the changing Le Gaigne cartes, once this summer vacation nonsense is over and done with. [Two menu degustation, wine, and one cafe totaled 115.50€]

LE GAIGNE
12, Rue Pecquay
75004 Paris
tel: 01 44 59 86 72
www.restaurantlegaigne.fr

L'Aromatik - Sounds of the City

It was a sultry Friday night, but Co. and I braved the non-air conditioned metro and ventured out to the theater district in the 9th, to L’Aromatik, which a May issue of Telerama promoted as a ‘bistrot coloré à la partition fusion honorable.’ The bistrot, which apparently dates back to the circa 1920s-30s jazz era (when they didn't have AC), is a claustrophobic, but quaint, Art Deco venue which sits on the rather uninteresting, long and windy rue Jean-Baptiste-Pigalle, a street that arises from the Moulin Rouge in the Pigalle area to sights unseen and unknown. Well, I guess it’s true - you do learn something every day, and on that sultry Friday night, the first thing I learned is that Pigalle was originally a somebody before he became a someplace and a some street – an 18th C. sculptor to be precise. The second thing I learned is to never again visit L’Aromatik on a sultry Friday night, or any other sultry night for that matter, at least not until they get that second overhead fan working again (assuming it ever did).

The place is small, but we managed to appropriate a little table – and I do mean little – more or less by its lonesome, but we were already working up a sweat before the rest of the tables filled. I counted four floor fans and the one workable overhead fan cranking away, to little avail. The front of the restaurant was wide open for air, but here is where I learned a third thing – the narrow, typically Parisian rue JB Pigalle may look charming from the outside, but inside it is one noisy mother! My back to the street, I listened to a steady parade of buses, motos, Mack trucks, and Sherman tanks. How the tanks fit such a narrow street I cannot say, but the decibel level, not counting the screaming patrons, managed to drown out the waiter’s explanations and the lilting melodies of Miles Davis’s So What, which remained barely audible in the background.

The heat and noise did little for my disposition, so you may want to take my evaluation of the food with a grain of salt or some other aromatik spice of your preference. But let me digress for just another minute. What is it with restaurateurs’ fascination with naming their venues with mispelled words? Aromatik, Thai Me Up, Brews Brothers, you get the idea. Is this supposed to denote an ironic or playful indicator of imaginative meanderings in the kitchen? Anyway, I suppose Aromatik is supposed to signify a sort of thinking outside the box in the sense of asiatic and organic ingredients that justify the fusion-oriented nomenclature. Along those lines, to start off, following a tasty amuse bouche of crème of sardine with tomato, Co. went Mediterranean with the gaspacho entrée and I went Asian with the rouleaux de printemps à l'aïoli de Marseille. Even cold soup sounded too warm for me under the circumstances; Spring rolls struck me as a couple months more temperate. Neither of us was wowed by our choices. Co. did appreciate the combination of ham and fruit pieces in the soup (normally the ham is an accompaniment). My spring rolls had that tres fusion look, but appearances were deceiving in this case. Once I cut into the Spring rolls, a veritable garden blossomed onto my plate, which made me wonder why the dish was accompanied by a mound of greens. Until I reached the tasty two pieces of shrimp in the second roll, I felt like the green gardener. The uninspired sauce (mayo/mustard, tournesol) did little to spice up this disappointing entrée. But I admit, it looked nice.

The main plates were more satisfying, Co. going with the pintade and myself choosing the plat du jour, crevettes and risotto, identified as ‘Suggestion Bertrand’ (after youthful chef Bertrand Martin) on the bill. By this point, I think a delirium had set in largely attributed, I am sure, to the wine (a more than tolerable Domaine du Trillol Corbieres 2005) and rising heat. I vaguely remember Co’s pintade with peaches, having tried a couple forkfuls. I also remember two huge shrimp sitting atop my risotto, which was accompanied – imaginatively enough – by some paper thin slices of smoked duck. Things could have been worse, I guess. But if this is supposed to be fusion country, we were largely on the peripherique.

I am always lightly amused by French stabs at New York cheesecake, so I couldn’t resist trying Aromatik’s Cheese cake New-Yorkais au chocolat blanc. I couldn’t quite fuse my memory of the typical New York cheesecake with the round dessert that appeared on my plate, and where the white chocolate was my taste buds would not disclose, but I did experience a nostalgic rush when I found that it was sitting on a base composed of actual graham cracker.


Co’s 3-course ‘menu’ was priced at a reasonable 35 euros, but because Bertrand’s suggestion wasn’t included as a ‘menu’ choice, my ala carte total ran a bit higher at 46 euros. Topped off by the 25 euro Corbieres, our bill came to 106 euros, air not included, but more than enough decibels of noise to give you a free headache for the rest of the weekend. Overall, my evaluation of L’Aromatik is clearly less favorable than the more laudatory reviews you’ll find at Lobrano and Talbot’s blogs. Chalk it up to the weather, the noise, whatever. I have to hand it to Monsieur Martin, at least he is making an effort – judging from the dishes that appear on the menu – to spice up the typical Parisian bistrot menu, the latter of which is so predictable at this point you surely won’t need a roadmap. Even the reasonably-priced wine list included some non-French (an Australian, a Chilean, and a Spanish), and some biologique alternatives. But if you choose to try L’Aromatik before the end of the summer, just be sure to dress lightly and take some ear plugs.


L'AROMATIK
7, rue Jean-Baptiste-Pigalle
01 48 74 62 27
website
video

Fabrique 4 – No Reservation

Fabrique 4, or Bistrot F 4 for the more conceptual reader, is a tiny, funky little bistrot in a thriving corner of the 17th. It is in good company, with one of Paris Restaurants and Beyond’s favorites, La Bigarrade, just around the corner, and the overflowing Bloc bar/café a few doors away. It didn’t hurt that Friday evening happened to be one of those rarities in Paris – the weather was nice!: still sunny and mild at 8:30 pm, the hint of a full moon on the horizon, and weekend revelers packing the streets in search of a boisson and a bite. Co. and I were greeted outside F 4 by a youthful couple lazing around at one of the marble tables lined up in front of the façade. The casual duo turned out not to be a couple of layabout Parisian university students as first glance suggested, but F 4 co-owners Jade et Thibault, another pair of conjoint restaurateurs who seem to be spreading throughout the capital. Trust me, I have nothing against youth – I used to be one myself, and anyway, give them another 20 or 30 years and they will be as decrepit as me. It just so happens that these talented neophytes are infusing some imaginative culinary flair into the Paris restaurant scene. It’s understandable that the F 4 duo were relaxing in the waning moments of sunshine, because once they ushered us inside to a corner table for 5, the serious work of the evening kicked into full force.

The F 4 carte is a bit conceptual, with the ‘Food F’ starting off the list of choices: sashimi de boeuf (with roquette salad and parmesan) and a salade Ceasar au gambas, either of which could serve as an entrée or main dish. Next category, clear-cut entrees, comprised the ‘be 4’ category, with options consisting of the likes of foie gras mi-cuit and asperges a la flamande. Then it’s on to the main plates, surf (‘Waters’) or turf (‘Pattes,’ as in paws), with four options available in each category. ‘Happy ends’ rounds out the menu with a choice of--you guessed it--four desserts. Co. and I opted for the two Food Fs, respectively. Great start – Co. waxed effusively over the tenderness of the sashimi beef (10€) – a copious lineup of thinly sliced meat squares with a cornichon, orange, and mayonaise sauce running alongside - a sashimi dish that is rare in French restaurants. Meanwhile, my dish consisted of 3 sizable grilled gambas, on a bed of bulgar grain and young green asparagus, a dollop of anchovy butter, and a few slices of toasted baguette (16€). This was definitely a tasty dish, but I didn’t understand the point of the toast – the slices were hard and uninteresting, as if Thibault had forgotten to add the garlic and butter, which would have served as a more logical accompaniment to the gambas.

On to our main plate dishes. Red mullet is one of my favorites and so it was no surprise I picked the rouget with risotto, a quite satisfying option (15€). Co. continued her carnivorish ways, literally having a cow with her selection of ribs de boeuf (17€), two large slabs of meaty bones—the meat she once again praised for its tendresse—along with vegetables and some lightly fried potato squares. To finish up, my happy ending was happier than Co's happy ending, with a far superior fondant of chocolate with an accompanying nuts/syrup guilty pleasure concoction (6€) vis-à-vis Co’s somewhat perplexing tiramisu (6€). The wine list is short but sweet, with several reasonably priced, interesting bottles. We opted for the unfamiliar St. Pourçain 2008, a red strongly reminiscent of Chinon (24€), bringing the total to a reasonable 94€.

The F 4 interior consists of chandeliered modernity – two chandeliers hanging overhead the stylish tables and bar, with a nicely chosen Impressionistic painting running along the far wall. I counted five tables inside, and five out, which makes reserving essential - don't be misled by this entry's title, I refer to those who didn't get to eat. Jade must have turned away a steady stream of somewhere between 20 and 30 youthful patrons throughout the evening who were hoping to be seated despite the full house inside and out. No second serving, no taking advantage of the empty space inside to set up some more tables. It was pretty clear that the dynamic Jade/Thibault duet was one that played to its own demanding limits. (Jade later explained that in lieu of the five outside tables during the cold weather months, they cram in enough extra seats to accommodate 27 – how they do that I cannot fathom, although I have vague images of an endless stream of clowns pouring out of a VW). In short, F 4 merits a return visit. We’re not in Michelin country, but you could do worse. It will be interesting to follow Thibault’s future creations.

FABRIQUE 4
17 rue Brochant
75017 Paris
tel. +33 1 58 59 06 47
website

Copenhagen or Bust

Let me be clear – I like Copenhagen. I like Denmark. I like the Danes. I like the fact that it’s a joy walking around the city, a joy meeting people, a joy using the efficient mass transportation, a joy touring the canal by boat, etc. etc. In fact, the New York Times recently proclaimed the Danes as the most joyful people on the planet. With the prices in Denmark, I’m not exactly sure what they are so joyous about. Maybe they got to eat in all the good restaurants that I didn’t during my recent visit. That must be it.

Unfortunately, my stay in Copenhagen from a dining experience was pretty much a bust. No, I did not make it to René Redzepi’s Noma, the recently rated best restaurant in the world. The closest I got to Noma was when we passed it on a boat tour and the guide explained how one must reserve two years in advance. So I was one year and 350 days late when I called and ended up on a waiting list. So sue me. Maybe this is all for the better – a look at Noma’s menu leaves cause for pausing, with items like biodegradeable grain and smoked musk ox cheek. No sense trying to reserve again for two years hence. Chances are Noma will have been displaced from the top spot to number 3, 4, or worse, and who wants to eat in the 3rd or 4th best restaurant in the world anyway? Everyone knows Avis and Hertz – does anyone care who is no. 3? Case closed.

The Noma experience was pretty typical, even for mere 1-star Michelin restaurants in the capital. I tried the way, way, way over-priced Formel B, The Paul, Krogs Fiskeresteraunt, among others, only to find them all fully booked. Another disappointment was the more affordable smørrebrød (open sandwiches) landmark, Ida Davidsen, a family run business that comes highly recommended. I trekked out to the restaurant for lunch one afternoon, navigating a couple buses and a couple maps, only to learn at the door that they could not seat poor old me because they were filled. When I got back to my hotel later in the day, I checked my restaurant list and next to Ida Davidson I found I had written ‘must reserve!!!’. Doh.

Well, I had to eat, so my aspirations lowered, I did end up with a few good experiences, if not especially memorable. First up, and what turned out to be the highlight meal, was a seafood place in walking distance from my Mayfair Clarion Hotel, Kødbyens Fiskebar, a modern, converted warehouse in the hip meatpacking district, where one can sit at one of the 20 or so scattered tables, at the ample bar, or at the circular aquarium. I chose the bar and chatted up the bartender/server, who informed me that the soft shell crab sandwich I had seen on their online menu was not on the current menu because of supply issues. This was the one offering they imported frozen, but being Baltimore bred, I would take a soft-shell crab sandwich any way I could get it. I settled for a couple glasses of Maker’s Mark to console my weary traveling mind, and opted for a trout tartare entrée, and a baked cod main dish. Both were excellent: the tartare had a crunchy element to it, which I learned from the bartender was spent grain, similar to rye. Denmark does bread and does it well – the accompanying basket of dark breads was addictive. The cod came accompanied by artichokes with truffle powder and salsify (long roots), as well as a small bucket of boiled potatoes. On the surface, Fiskebar comes off as laid back and casual, but there’s obviously someone making an effort in the kitchen. (In fact, there are two kitchens: a cold, raw seafood kitchen, and another responsible for the hot dishes.) When I settled for an espresso when I ordered a post-meal latte, the waitress graciously comped it. Dinner for one, with a couple drinks and free coffee came to, by Copenhagen standards, a relative bargain at 55 euros, although part of that included a 3 or 4 euro charge for using a foreign credit card. With the euro crumbling, the Danes are veritably gloating with their bloody kroner, but my advice is ‘Get with the program!’ so that I can travel without having to do little currency conversion equations in my mind all day long.

I know it’s a piece of garbage, but I had in hand during the trip a 2010 edition Copenhagaen Berlitz pocket guide. One of their recommended restaurants in the Radhuspladsen district was Passagens Spicehus, described as ‘the place for Nordic food.’ I telephoned and reserved a place for one. Only when I showed up, the restaurant that I found was a Japanese venue, where I was informed that Passagens had closed shop four years ago! So, in essence, the folks at Berlitz apparently either don’t visit the venues they recommend, or simply assume that they haven’t changed in four years. Moral of the story: do not buy the Berlitz travel guides.

One of the kind chefs at the Japanese spot, upon learning that I was looking for some traditional Danish cooking recommended a small restaurant a couple blocks away next door to the Waterloo strip club, Frida’s. The menu didn’t appeal to me, so I ended up eating a couple doors down from the Gentleman’s Hollywood strip club, across from my hotel. In Copenhagen, when you ask for directions, be sure to ask for the nearest strip club, otherwise people won’t know what you’re talking about. The restaurant was the Frk. Barners Kaelder, which had all the aura of another Copenhagen landmark, though definitely not of the strip club variety. There I started off with the herring platter, which promised three varieties of herring ‘according to the cook’s mood.’ Well, it turned out that the cook was in a pickled spice (chili and cinnamon), mustard, and pickled onion kind of a mood. The ample portions of the three herring varieties were accompanied by small dishes of diced onions, capers, and solidified dripped fat. I dipped into the dripped fat, thinking it was horseradish or something like that and nearly regurgitated. When I asked the waiter if he didn’t think that maybe a bowl of solidified dripped fat wasn’t exactly on the Surgeon General’s most healthy foods list, he simply shrugged and mentioned how butter and smoking are bad for you, too, so what are you gonna do? My main dish wasn’t as intriguing – a large grilled skate fish, with a bowl of boiled potatoes, the latter of which seem as obvious as salt and pepper shakers on the Danish table. Barners has a nice terrace, but you guessed it, it was full, so I settled for a table in the quaint interior. Nothing quaint about the rather motley crew of fellow customers. At the table in front of me was a joyous, bearded Dane brandishing a blood red Satan t-shirt with the caption, ‘God is busy. Can I help you?’ The bill, including a couple glasses of wine and that hideous credit card fee, came to 55.50 euros.

Also noteworthy was the inexpensive lunch at Kaelder 12 bistro around the corner from Ida Davidsen where people like me without a reservation at Ida’s are exiled, a knowing nod from the owner upon entry. An interesting selection of smørrebrøds, and they come recommended from the folks at Ida’s, who eat at Kaelder’s, as I was informed by Ida’s joyous host who had turned me away. The priciest meal came at the expense of dinner at Els restaurant at the end of the famous Nyhavn strip of cafes, restaurants, and bars, and a few steps away from the Kongens Nytorv square, where I was accosted outside the Danish Royal Theater (Det Konelige Teater) by a dapper gentleman trying to unload a couple tickets for the evening’s performance of My Fair Lady. I was tempted, but as far as I am concerned, there was only one fair lady and that was Audrey Hepburn who, alas, is no longer with us. You can check out Els’ offerings at their website, as there was nothing much that memorable about my meal, other than the restaurant’s charming 19th century décor. Here again I opted for the herring platter entrée, and I was mildly amused to find that Els’ chef must have been in the very same mood as Barners’ cook, what with the identical selection of three types of herrings. At Els, I finally mustered up the courage to order a half bottle of wine – a S. African Shiraz, Cape Tranquility. As is true throughout Scandinavia, the wine prices are outrageous. Count on about $100 per bottle. Blame it on the economy, 100% plus restaurant mark-ups, import costs, whatever, you’ll do better simply ordering a couple akvavits with your meal. The bill at Els, for two three-course meals and the half Shiraz, totaled 140 euros. Finally, one of my more enjoyable meals was a casual lunch on the narrow glass-enclosed terrace at the Dansk Arkitektur Center's Dacafe overlooking one of the canals. I started off with an interesting terrine, followed by a very tasty open-faced grilled chicken sandwich. Lunch for two, with a couple glasses of wine came to 53 euros.

There’s more, but this should give you a flavor for Copenhagen dining. With better advanced planning, there appear to be some hidden culinary treasures in the city. My guess is that with a little effort, you can make out much better than I did. So much for the North, time to set the compass for the south and return to the Valencia region of Spain, where the the Riojas are plentiful. . . and cheap.

KODBYENS FISKEBAR
Den Hvide Kodby
Flaesketorvet 100
tel. +45 32 15 56 56
website

FRK. BARNERS KAELDER
Helgoldandsgade 8A
tel. 33 33 05 33
website

DANSK ARKITEKTUR CENTER
Strandgade 27B
tel. 32 57 19 30

ELS
Store Strandstraede 3
tel: 33 14 13 41
website

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!

Agapes – Pour the Wine, Hold the Kids

Agapes – sounds familiar, doesn’t it ? So thought Co. and I as we passed the restaurant at the intersection of rue Poliveau and rue des Fossés Saint-Marcel, on our way a few doors down to L’Agrume earlier this month. Sure enough, a search reveals some other Agapes in France, one higher priced with apparently high aspirations in the 16th and one in my old vacation stomping grounds down in St. Palais in southwest France. But Co. and I are pretty sure we’ve never stepped inside any of these. If you’re not familiar with the language, the French ‘agapes’ essentially means ‘banquet’ or ‘feast’, so it’s not surprising more than one restaurateur has glommed onto it as a restaurant name. And it starts with ‘A’, meaning you’ll be listed right at the top of whatever list your restaurant is likely to be listed on. Anyway, we perused the displayed menu outside Agapes in the 5th and decided it was worth a try.

I wouldn’t dub Agapes Restaurant either the banquet place or the feast place, but I would say after our visit last Friday night that it is a worthy spot for a traditional French meal with a small degree of creative flair, reasonably priced, and tres auberge-like. Yes, I could imagine this spot somewhere out in the countryside, maybe on the way to a weekend of ski, with its warm and comfortably woodsy interior and its laid back, pleasant servers. With a smile.

One of those aforementioned servers kicked off our meal with a mise en bouche – two simple, but interesting morsels of bread accompanied by a mustard sauce. I was tempted to order a 2005 Bourgogne Pinot Noir “Louis Gras” (27.90€), only to be informed by our server that it wasn’t available – too bad, it’s been a while for the Pinot. This, however, provided the opportunity for a useful tidbit of information – he explained that the restaurant was about to go on a short hiatus for renovations and redecorating, so when you go, you will go to the ‘new and improved’ Agapes. Which explains the light stock in the cave during our visit. I settled for wine door number two, a perrenial favorite, a 2007 St Nicolas de Bourgueil “Domaine de la Cabernelle” (24.50€) – it was available and it did not disappoint. (More than once, the bottle was delicately taken from my hand by an accommodating server as I went to pour.)

The Bourgueil effectively washed down a tasty but unspectacular three course menu, priced at 30€. (The restaurant also offers a market-determined 5-course ‘Menu Gourmand’ at 56€, including apératif and café). [No food photos, but I swiped a couple representative images from the Agapes website.] I started off with an entrée of rouget barbet, accompanied by a sauce vigneronne and épinard-moelle. I really enjoyed this, but I am not a big fan of bone marrow, which essentially is what the ‘moelle’ refers to. Nonetheless, it was an inspired complement to the rouget. I was busily contemplating the little ceramic bowl inside of which rested a small cluster of greens – uhm, nope, can’t eat that part - only to eventually discover it wasn’t a ceramic bowl after all, duh, but a hollow bone, thus reflecting on the rouget preparation. The eyes – after the knees, they’re the next to go. With a 5€ supplement, Co. went with the foie gras de canard rôti, en terrine, fruits marinés (tangerines, I believe), sangria réduite. Co. is a tough cookie to crack when it comes to foie gras, having been raised on the stuff, but she seemed satisfied with this preparation.

On to the plates – for a main course I threw caution to the wind and ordered what normally isn’t my preference – unlike rouget, which is always high up on my ‘I want that’ scale – rabbit! Auberge, France, lapin – I don’t know about you, but they seem to go together for me, so there it was, râble de lapin fermier (i.e., the meaty breast), ses abats au beurre d’escargot, amandes grillées. Bearing in mind I am not a lapin connaisseur, this did the job for me, even if it didn’t knock my socks off, or untie my shoes even. Co. opted for the poisson de jour from Brittany which, if memory serves me correct, was a cabaillaud. I had a couple tastes and it was fresh and well-pepared. For dessert, I had a diet deadly Le cacao, basically a chocolate pudding with tuile craquante. I admit it, I’m a sucker for anything craquante in a dessert, so just stick that word in the description (in this case, crème et tuile craquante, viennois au fruit de la passion) and I am hooked. Just take that ‘craquante’ out of the description and what happens? You don’t want it. Well, this turned out to be pretty tasty. Co. took the orange-kiwi (minestrone au marsala, biscuit pistache) and seemed, well, to tell you the truth, I don’t know what she seemed. So there you have it, two 3-course menus, wine, and 2 cafés, for a total 92.30€.

Drum roll, please, it is now time for my monthly tirade. Having arrived rather early, we were seated in the roomier back room and it seemed like the place to be. By the main dish I was fully convinced how misguided our choice was, after glancing at the serene, calm atmosphere in the smaller and more somber front room. Directly behind our table, two couples who happened to bring along for dinner at a fine Parisian establishment – I hope you are sitting down – children! Two of whom were tamed, and the other, the young one dressed in a Batman T, untamed, with enormously distressing consequences. Now, one thing about eating out with Co. is that she always picks the seat facing the interior of the restaurant, leaving me contemplating activities on the street (if there’s a window) or the facing wall, where hopefully there is some artwork that I can memorize every fine detail of by dessert; otherwise, it comes down to, ‘is that an insect?’ So usually when we leave a restaurant, Co. will say something like, ‘hey Mort, you know that guy sitting a few tables away who…’ and I will respond with ‘there was another guy in the restaurant?’ Anyway, at first, I just assumed that those noises I kept hearing during my entrée were someone’s jungle sounds CD playing from next door, but by the time the little imp was lifting sugarcubes from the bowl accompanying my coffee, I
realized a ‘jungle music okay, but no kids allowed’ policy might not be misguided. True, I imagine most Parisian restaurateurs simply assume, what unthinking rubes would dare bring un enfant – a child, mon Dieu! – into my wonderfully French restaurant? Of course, this will not happen here! So in lieu of a ‘no kids allowed’ policy (which is not as rare as you might think in Paris), here is my advice to parents (choose one): (1) bring your kids to dinner, but sedate them first; (2) bring your kids to dinner, but keep them under the table, with a bowl of water (or milk); (c) on the way to dinner, drop your kids off at McDo; or (4) learn and apply the following term: ‘babysitter.’ I counted two or three moments where le petit Batman nearly tripped a server loaded up with plates. You know that look when a disapproving adult glances at a child - you know the one that says ‘I could strangle the little bugger’ – that’s the one I saw more than once at Agapes. Hey, you can’t fault Agapes – I doubt they fielded the reservation request with the addendum, ‘and don’t forget to bring your little monstres’! But it was a thorn in our side during the meal and the next time we think of Agapes I am sure we’ll be running for our Batmobile and speeding off in the other direction.


AGAPES RESTAURANT

47 bis rue Poliveau
75005 Paris
tel: 01 43 31 69 20
Internet site: www.restaurant-agapes.com (with video)

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