Le Pouilly - Middle of Nowhere

Well along the A4 towards Melun in the southeastern periphery of Paris metropolitan, if you blink your eyes at the wrong time you will miss Pouilly le Fort. This is probably why you no doubt never heard of this installment's feature restaurant, the aptly-named Le Pouilly, which sits in a quiet expanse on the far edge of that town. That's about as close as you get to the middle of nowhere in the Paris region. Thus, my quick caveat - if you don't have a car and you are coming from Paris, read no further, because I have no idea how you are getting there.

Whether it's worth the trek is a matter of opinion, because Le Pouilly has much to offer in its favor, but not unequivocally. First, since you're arriving by car, you'll need a place to park it, and Le Pouilly has that covered with plenty of gravelly spaces to the side of the restaurant. (A free parking lot - try finding one of those in Paris.) Once inside, you'll first notice a musty, ashen smell from the fireplaces and a lit candle on every table - and I am sure the huge slabs of cheese sitting not far from the anteroom contributed in no small part. Modern, Le Pouilly is not. Think 18th century chalet, it does have its charm, with an upper terrace of tables (for groups) and several tables spaced amply apart in the main room. Le Pouilly has many rooms, for larger functions, apparently.

In addition to the possibility of ordering ala carte, La Pouilly offers two menus, a three-course 47€ menu (two choices offered per course) and a fixed four-course 85€ possibility, with each menu featuring a meaningful 'first impression' (aka amuse bouche) and an 'avant dessert'. Co. and I opted for the el cheapo three-course and, as it turned out, it seemed like forever before we got out of there, so it was probably the wiser choice. Shortly after installing at the table, we were brought a platter of first, second, and third impressions, the highlight of which was a delicate creme of caulifower with vanilla, to be drunk straight out of the glass. This was followed by a fourth separate impression, a small rectangle of fish, lieu noir, floating on top of a puree of broccoli, a nice start to the meal, even if it did take us halfway into the lieu before our bottle of Bourgogne Pinot Noir 2007 Chanson (32€)was decanted and finally poured into our glasses.



I know you're wondering, so this is what the two menus looked like, in their entirety:





For photographic purposes, Co. and I opted for one of each of the entrees and plates, but neither of us was willing to forego the millefille with chocolate and crème pralinée for dessert (in lieu of the Poire William). Have a look, in order listed on the 47€ menu:













You'll notice that I snuck a peek at the cheese tray in there, despite the fact it was not included in the menu and Co. and I decided not to splurge on the additional 14€ per person, but though I have traveled far and wide, I have not seen a more copious cheese display - the photo shows only one of three similarly-sized trays that are brought to the table. One of the odd trio of rugby-sized gentlemen at the next table broke all recorded records with a nine-piece selection, god bless. Our loss was rewarded with an avant dessert offering and a nice little selection of tidbits to accompany the cafe. Extras, extras, that's what I'm talking about.





Highlights? I gave two thumbs up to the entrees, an admirer as I am of betterave, which accompanied each dish, meshing particularly well with the foie gras. The dish that truly excelled, however, was the daurade, a succulent piece of fish whose subtle flavors soared with the carrot curry with dollops of yogurt sauce. Very, very nice. Less to say, unfortunately, about the magret, which did not impress. No complaints about the millefille.

Service was attentive until the room filled, but by then our waiter had visited frequently enough so that we ended up with barely one glass apiece by dessert. Co. found the entire staff rather off-putting, and I may have as well had I paid attention. Asking for directions while waiting for our coats, I got a little uncomfortable when Igor opined to Dr. Frankenstein that 'zay vish to leave ze chateau, heh heh,' but I'm sure they are perfectly nice once you get to know them.

Overall, for a meal off the beaten path - actually that's 'way off' the beaten path - you could do worse than Le Pouilly. I could see returning, maybe one lazy weekend afternoon for an extended lunch, but as it is, maybe it's just better to wait for the price of petrol to go down a bit.

LE POUILLY

1, rue de la Fontaine
Pouilly Le Fort
77240 Vert St Denis
tel: 01 64 09 56 64
Web: www.lepouilly.fr

Runners Up - Au Passage and Miel & Paprika

When it takes me this long to pen my reviews of some new venues, it can mean one of two things - I wasn't knocked out by the experience or I just don't have much to say. Not being one who is very often at a loss for words, chances are that the former is more at cause than the latter. Which pretty much describes my recent visits - with Co. in tow - to one tres hyped spot, Au Passage, and one significantly under the radar, Miel et Paprika.

AU PASSAGE


Before my introductory remarks are entirely misconstrued, I should start out my discussion of Au Passage by saying that we definitely had a good time and I can't say anything bad about the food. It's just not what we expected. Au Passage, as you may remember from one of my recent entries, won Le Fooding's 2012 Palmare for 'Fooding d'amour', therein dubbed as a 'typical bistro-style place' where the food is 'jazzed up a bit by a former Spring cook ... just good, simple and inexpensive.' All confirmed by our visit, I don't deny it, but it would have been more accurate to describe Au Passage as a 'typical tapas-style place in the fashion of Aux Deux Amis, but with even younger clientele.' Nothing wrong with that, if that's what you're up for.


We found Au Passage at the end of the narrow and quiet passage Saint-Sebastien in the 11th. Funky facade and, upon entry, a bar-like atmosphere, with some old leather couches, large mirrors, parquet floor. I almost expected to see a few guys huddled together in the back shooting darts. The only darts, however, took the form of glaring stares from the patrons at the bar where the bartender/hostess informed us that we weren't on the reservation list. As I hemmed and hawed about my having made the reservation nearly a week earlier - I would take a lie detector test, I swear - she ultimately found some cryptic markings in her ledger that must have approximated my name. Hey, I understand, I can't read French handwriting either. We were guided to a nice little table in the back, where I quickly let bygones be bygones and, upon noticing the menu items scrawled on a few blackboards quickly realized it was a tapas night. And here is what one of those blackboards looked like:



Choosing was tough, but we eventually settled on, in order as the photos display below, burratta poutarque, truite et raifort, ceviche de bar de ligne et mandarine (not pictured), magret canard poischise endive, and the gateau d'orange.









The smooth and soft burratta was a nice start, but I think it comes a close second to the same dish I sampled at Aux Deux Amis. I think the more original offering of the night was the ceviche de bar, but my photo is too weirdly cropped to post here. Overall, the photos remind me of a satisfying meal, or maybe it's the mellow mood induced by Blind Willie McTell, Duster Bennett, and Sharon Van Etten playing in the background as I write. The wine, a 28€ Perriere Costieres proved a fine accompaniment, with plenty of time between the latter dishes to ponder its subtlety, as the crowd burgeoned. So the verdict - definitely a nice place to dine with a few friends, sampling a large chunk of the chalkboard, sharing dishes, wine, and conversation - all much in evidence on the Friday evening of our visit. If I were 35 years younger, I would probably do just that. Au Passage is good, it's simple, and its cheap (the final tally totalled 73€). Nonetheless, I think I'll stick to the insane and frenetic Aux Deux Amis.

AU PASSAGE
1 bis Passage Saint Sebastien
75011 Paris
tel: 01 43 55 07 52

MIEL & PAPRIKA


During our various dinners at La Gazzetta, I often pondered the little restaurant directly across the street on funky rue de Cotte, Miel & Paprika. A little searching and I quickly realized that it doesn't show up in any of my Paris restaurant guidebooks, but the online reviews scattered here and there were all favorable. So off we went. Once into the meal, I found myself staring out the window at La Gazzetta's facade, ruefully wishing we were sampling one of their excellent 7-course meals. Can anyone say, 'the grass is greener...?'

M&P is a tiny spot, as so many Parisian restaurants are, so nothing unusual in that regard. A decent mise en bouche got us started - what it was I am sorry not to remember. In turn, our entrees consisted of Os a moelle and ravioles de chevre (the latter pictured below). Now if you haven't guessed, the restaurant's name betrays the hook - each meal more or less comprises something sweet (miel) and spicy (paprika), some more effectively than others. Main dishes took us into gambas a la creme de corail (second photo below) and souris d'Agneau territory. I love shrimp, the bigger the better, and the duo of tiger shrimp on my plate were big enough but maybe just not tasty enough, although the ratatouille accompaniment helped. Co. couldn't quite detect the sweet yin to her lamb's yang. My nems au chocolat salidou proved an interesting dessert as Co. dug into her tiramisu de framboise speculoos. All in all a pretty good meal, but it paled from being in such close proximity to La Gazzetta's great.





Along with a bottle of Cotes du Rhone Pourpre (22€), the damage came to 92€. I'm glad I finally got Miel & Paprika out of my system. Not bad, not great. All in all, I'd rather have been across the street.

MIEL & PAPRIKA

24 rue de Cotte
75012 Paris
tel: 01 53 33 02 67

NOTES:

1. Somewhere along the line during February Co. and I revisted La Gourmandise - a casual spot we used to frequent until we lost interest about 2 - 3 years ago, as we were reminded by the familiar host, who spent a lot of time at our table explaining why the food now sucked. During our hiatus there was change of ownership and chef, the latter of whom was instructed to pare down the menu and go mainstream. The good deals are still available, but when the food isn't any good anymore, does that really matter? Too bad.

2. I have created a monster - after my favorable review of Septime a couple months ago, it is now impossible to get a reservation (Le Fooding's high praise may have had something to do that, I admit). I'm on the waiting list for more than a month from now, another Friday night. Weeknights seem to be easier. Bon chance.

La Vitrine - Spring Backwards, Fall Ahead

By Paris standards, this past Friday night was virtually arctic, but Co. and I gamely donned several layers and headed out to the metro, direction Pigalle, and ascended into the Paris night at the Anvers stop. As we walked toward La Vitrine, our destination for the evening, and approached the square on rue Turgot, we paused for a moment to turn around to have a look at the Sacre Coeur, sitting majestically atop Montmartre all aglow. Once we passed the Auvergne cheese and fish stalls aligning the square, there was the Montparnasse tower off in the distance straight ahead. Paris it is. And my mood was truly upbeat, because after checking out Vitrine's website and catching a glimpse at the following dishes, I was looking forward to a memorable meal.





I really wanted to like La Vitrine. First, there are those snide comments on other review sites about how La Vitrine is doomed from the start, having moved into the old site of the local legend, Spring. Now, I still haven't found out how wonderful and super fantastic Spring is, because the last time I tried to reserve there, which is when they still resided at the rue de la Tour D'Auvergne location, I was told, sorry, we're fully booked until 2015, or something like that. Second, everything was copacetic upon arrival. A nice welcome from the charming hostess, we were seated abutting the counter separating the dining room from the open kitchen.

It's understandable that a wildly successful venue like Spring would bolt from its original location. La Vitrine's owners have done an admirable job of making full use of the limited sq. meters, lining up a grand total of 9 tables along the two walls. The offerings for the evening, barely legible on two mounted slate boards included the following dishes, as listed at the website:




Unfortunatley, La Vitrine ultimately didn't live up to expectations. I went with the marinated tuna, the fish of the day - a rectangular slab of lean white fish, poisson maigre - and the lemon tartelette. Co. opted for the raviole (which unfortunately couldn't touch that of Table D'Eugene, see my last entry), cochon, and creme brulee. The personal touch of Israeli-born-and-bred chef Kobi Villot-Malka, seen preparing the tuna marinee dish below, was plainly visible to the naked eye. After all, as he was preparing the dishes, he was probably as close to me as Co. was at the other side of our small square table.

All that work put into each individual tuna entree resulted in a dish whose taste was surprisingly un-wow (pardon my deconstruction of the English language). My maigre (2nd image below) was delicious, but the accompanying thick turnip circle didn't seem to make any sense - its slightly bitter taste contrary to the almost sweet elegance of the fish. The small cubes of panais - a root vegetable close to the carrot - were pretty much tasteless. What could have been a great dish ended up as a minor disappointment. Co. was less critical of her cochon dish, savoring the topinabour cream. Two big thumbs up for the desserts, however. I now recognize that I am an easy mark when it comes to well-prepared lemon tarts, and the one at La Vitrine was a winner, accompanied by a mound of gentle slices of mango and cassis. Much care also went into the creme brulee with truffes preparation - Co. happens to be a creme brulee fanatic, and this one scored mightedly.






The meal was washed down with a decent bottle of Haute Cotes Beaune, reasonably priced at 27€. The wine menu was relatively short, but well composed. A couple of post-meal cafes, brought to the table in cute little covered tasses, brought the grand total, including a couple 'supplements' to 107€. The menu lacked from inclusion of a cheese course - incomprehensible given the Auvergne cheese stalls a couple blocks away, and I'll say it again - why not bring a couple patisseries along with the coffee, especially when the dessert menu lacks a chocolate option? Little things, big effects. Too bad to see only three other tables occupied during our visit, perhaps more a function of the weather than reputation. I got the impression chef Kobi likes to experiment, so maybe you'll have better luck, but I don't think we'll be returning. La Vitrine is still fairly new and it deserves a look. Nonetheless, as we made our way to Gare du Nord, a light snow was falling, reminding us that we're still a long way from Spring.

LA VITRINE
28, rue de la Tour D'Auvergne
75009 Paris
01 45 23 99 13
website: www.restaurant-lavitrine.com

Easing Into 2012

As per habitude, Co. and I eased into 2012 by venturing out to two of our usual haunts during the first two weekends of the year, Table d'Eugene and L'Agrume, respectively. At a time when a new year heralds all kinds of potential for change, including various resolutions that we typically forget about one week later, when it comes to restaurants, our tendency is to lean toward the tried and true. And that's about all I have to say about these two Paris bistrots that I have previously reviewed extensively at this site - we tried them again and they remain true to our hearts.

LA TABLE D'EUGENE Admittedly, the return trip to Eugene was over a month ago, and I'm afraid I can't provide many details about the various courses that comprised the 38€ menu, accompanied by a 33€ bottle of Saumur (Eolithe). As usual, Co. was transported more by Eugene than I was, but my ravioles in cream entree was sublime (2nd image below). I've had that disgusting looking chocolate dessert you see below - the Blob - before: it starts off as an elegantly perfect, shiny globe, but once the chocolate cream is poured over the glistening black chocolate exterior, the composition implodes. The kid in me really gets off on that sort of thing, but the decrepit hedonistic adult in me loves the taste. The highlights follow:














L'AGRUME One week later it was back to L'Agrume, a venue we try to get to 4 or 5 times during the year, and why not? Chef Franck Marchesi makes sure to change the menu...every single day. So there we were, snug at our favorite front corner table, surrounded by glass in the comfortable, dimly lit room, but in full view of the open kitchen activity. I had my camera in my pocket, but once I snapped a barely readable photo of the evening's five-course 39€ tasting menu, the camera returned to my pocket for the rest of the meal. I must have felt more Parisian than tourist/blogger that evening, especially after progressing through the tasty bottle of Palhas red (34€) and didn't want to wreck the mood by playing photographer. You'll just have to close your eyes and imagine - up to the somewhat disappointing banana dessert, it was business as usual, i.e., excellent, the creamy risotto with smoked eel a standout.



LA TABLE D'EUGENE
18 rue Eugene Sue
75018 Paris
tel: 01 42 55 61 64

L'AGRUME
15, rue des Fosses St-Marcel
Paris 5th
01 43 31 86 48
website: www.restaurantlagrume.fr

“Top of the world, Ma!” - Bests 2011

In fact, before that gas tank explodes in White Heat, James Cagney actually yells, “Made it, Ma. Top of the world!” But let's not nitpick. It's that time again, actually, it's 10 days past that time again, to name my top five restaurants of the year, in this case 2011. Hard to believe, but Paris Restaurants and Beyond is now entering its fourth year, with somewhere around 80 or so restaurants reviewed, so I first have to give myself an award for keeping with it. Congratulations, me. It would be nice to hear from more readers, especially with your own recommendations, but I know, you are shy and I don't want to press you. I'm happy you come to this site and welcome your contributions.

As mentioned in previous PR and B 'best of' installments, I have no claim to suggest that any restaurants named here are in fact the 'best' restaurants, which would be a ridiculous claim to verify anyway - only that my best meals outside my own kitchen were found in the venues listed. 'Best' for me includes originality from the chef, fresh and inventive ingredients, and an overall enjoyable and memorable experience, the latter of which includes conviviality, atmosphere, and service from staff and fellow diners. Without further ado, here are my top five for 2011 (full reviews and addresses by clicking the relevant links in the 'restaurants reviewed to date' list to the right):

1. Le Gaigne - two really terrific dinners at Le Gaigne in 2011. I don't know why we don't hear or read more about this little gem situated between Beaubourg and the Marais, but the menus degustation for the two visits were inventive and completely satisfying. You've read my reviews, now check out another from the One Spoonful at a Time blog. Le Gaigne is tiny, but chef/owner Mickael Gaignon performs some grand magic in his kitchen.

2. La Gazzetta - regular readers of this blog should not be surprised by this choice, as I have been praising the restaurant since 2010.

3. Chateaubriand - I wouldn't go so far as to agree that this is the best restaurant in Paris, as has been claimed, but it's damn good. Multi-dishes pass before you in a blur, creative and hip, but alas, some of those dishes are just too tiny for their own good. And they are good.

4. Septime - This new addition to my 'go to' Paris restaurant list, along with Chatomat, were the most promising restaurants I dined at in 2011. Not great, but enough to suggest that they may soon be. I really enjoyed my dinner, particularly at Septime, last Fall, but it's hard to jump to conclusions after just one visit. I'm really looking forward to the next time.

5. Chatomat - see no. 4 above, and it's true, I did call this one 'great' in my review. In retrospective, let me just amend that by saying 'we'll see.'


Co., my dining cohort, is pretty much in agreement with these choices, although she'd probably nudge Septime or Chatomat from their mutual slots to include La Table D'Eugene, one of her personal favorites.

Best tapas - Aux Deux Amis - chaotic and crazy in the early evening. That herring ended up on the floor, but too much fun to care. And even the simple tapas were fresh and memorable.


Best oyster restaurant - Le Pleine Mer. 'Restaurant' may be stretching it, but there's no denying this is one of the top, if not the top 'o the world, places to eat oysters in Paris, especially if you are seeking authenticity down by the seashore in the heart of Paris.

Best online shopping for Mexican condiments - Dos Mexicanas, hands down. Based in Villepinte (France metropolitan). Sauces, hot peppers, chipotle, you name it. Great selection, reasonable prices, and I've already received orders within one or two days of ordering online.

Best movie about food: El Bulli - Cooking In Progress. This documentary about Ferran Adrià's majestic, but alas now closed, greatest restaurant in the world is mesmerizing from the opening shot of Adrià tasting a flourescent lollipop, to the final close-ups of the 38 dishes served during a typical meal. The film covers the six months the El Bulli team spent in their experimental labs in Barcelona, and follows the evolution of the new menu items for the restaurant's upcoming season in Roses, Spain. At one point during the experimental phase, Adrià tells his chefs, 'Don't worry about the quality of the taste, it must be magical!'

Disappointments of the Year - there were a number of these, although if you're not expecting much (see Millesimes 62, La Cerisaie, and Tintilou), it would be unfair to classify a venue as disappointing. But when Frenchie and JaJa get so many rave reviews (albeit 'rave' is an exaggeration for JaJa), disappointment definitely does apply. People talk about Frenchie like it's the bees-knees, so maybe I hit a bad night, but I was distinctly underwhelmed. And as for Jaja, fuggedaboutit.

Pleine Mer - Oyster Heaven

The allusion to oysters in my last review - L'Aquarelle in the Charente Maritime region- was no accident. By some strange turn of events, I didn't have an opportunity to to sample any oysters in that oyster-rich part of the country during my recent visit, so I brought my oyster - hereafter 'huitre' - craving back to Paris. What better way to bid 'adieu' to 2011 than by ingesting a dozen huitres and a bottle of muscadet?

There are many options for huitres in Paris, needless to say, from the highly touted Le Bistrot du Dome to the higher (Le Bar a Huitres) to lower (La Criee) chains. Co. and I, however, opted for the one that sounded most authentical and unpretentious, and, based on our meal there, hit the nail on the head.

Just the huitres, Jack, just the huitres. Pleine Mer is located an easy six-minute walk from Gare du Nord on the funky little rue Chabrol. Along the route, be sure to step into the immense (and also funky) Marché Saint-Quentin which, easily enough, is found on rue Saint-Quentin. As we approached the petite restaurant, we espied Sylvain Bertheau, propriétaire-ostréiculteur, in front finishing up a smoke in the pouring rain. M. Bertheau is Pleine Mer - shucker, waiter, owner, cashier, etc. - at least for our end-of-year visit. Once through the entrance, you pass a couple of large stainless-steel refrigerators for upcoming take-out orders and crates of freshly-packed oysters stacked on the floor.

We installed ourselves at one of the 8 or so small square tables, and were immediately informed by M. Bertheau that he had no smoked salmon for the evening, but plenty of huitres of the Cancal region of France, numbers 1, 2, and 3. Pleine Mer typically promises varieties of huitres ranging from 1 to 6, the lower numbers denoting larger (and higher priced) options. A 'formule' of a dozen huitres, a dish of tarama, and smoked salmon is possible, but as bears no explanation, only on days when M. Bertheau has smoked salmon on tap. This was not one of those nights, but never fear, we came for huitres, so huitres it was. Not that we had a choice.

Co. and I each selected a dozen no. 2 huitres (16.50€ each), which arrived on a bed of algae and plenty of fresh sea water in the shells, three slices of lemon, a basket of brown sliced bread and butter, and a bottle of muscadet (13€). M. Bertheau also offered us gratis a little dish of tarama cabillaud to smear on the bread. Now I ask you, what could be better on a chilly, rainy, end-of-the-year night in Paris? For dessert, we finished up with the one option available, a large slab of the buttery/sugary Breton cake, Kouign-Amann (3.50€ per slice), with its crusty, slightly burned top. This is a deadly guilty pleasure guaranteed to add a few notches to your cholesterol level.




With Pleine Mer, simplicity, authenticity, a lack of pretention, a convivial host, and some of the tastiest huitres you can imagine tell the story, all at the humble price of 54€ for two (including wine). What else is there to say? If you are in Paris and you crave a little huitres house by the sea, without actually being at the sea, you couldn't do better, in my humble opinion.

PLEINE MER

22, rue de Chabrol
Paris (75010)
TÉL : +33 1 53 34 64 47

Notes: On tap to start off the new year is a return visit to Table d'Eugene. I also promise to work up the energy to compile a 2011 recap, as soon as I chase my new year's hangover.