Family of One Dines in Paris 2010

At last, I have a chance to finish telling you about the meals that I had in Paris a few weeks back. I consider this trip one of my best because I carefully balanced my rich meals with less robust ones as well as bistros with haute cuisine. Enjoy!

BEST SATURDAY LUNCH—I can think of few greater pleasures than getting off the plane for Paris, driving though a rainy Saturday morning to a charming hotel on the Place des Vosges, and then strolling about a block to a café bustling with relaxed Parisian energy. I was lucky to be pointed in the direction of Le Petit Marche by the hotel concierge. Fabulous lentil soup, salad with goat cheese—that sounds so basic, but it is so delicious when prepared with TLC as only the French can do. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking une rue typique—welcome to Paris! Le Petit Marche, 9, rue de Bearn (just off Place des Vosges)

BEST SUNDAY AFTERNOON—the hotel concierge almost wept when I told him of my plan to stroll over to Bar a L’Huitres for at least a dozen oysters and a half bottle of something white. Indeed, perched in the café overlooking Boulevard Beaumarchais, steps from the Bastille was even more wonderful than I had imagined. The Belons and Claires were superb. The accompanying pork rillette was something for which I would have cheerfully paid. The half bottle of a white Burgundy was fabulous. Almost as wonderful—being surrounded by happy, chattering folks doing the same thing on a brisk, sunny Paris afternoon. Bar a L’Huitres, 33, blvd Beaumarchais.

BEST ENERGY—I stayed away from La Coupole for years because I had the notion that it was overrun by tourists. I found out differently a year ago and I very much enjoyed the energy of a Friday evening on this trip. It was completely mobbed—with locals. I had to sit at the bar for 45 minutes while I waited for a table in this brightly lit, cavernous restaurant. The food is fine—not bad, not stupendous. But, what is wonderful is the incredible energy emanating from everyone—the captains, the waiters, the patrons. The steak tartare and pommes frites are not bad and very affordable. And, who wouldn’t love a place where each person waiting is assigned the name of a composer rather than a number? La Coupole, 102, bd du Montparnasse

WORST MEAL—While I like Au Pied de Cochon as much as the next person—it practically defines French onion soup and the setting is just delightful—I made a crucial error in ordering pig’s trotters. Every time I have ordered this dish, it is always served as the pig’s heel, filled with some sort of scrumptious dressing. But, this time, I received, literally, the pig’s trotter—a mass of bones and tissue that resembled something out of a Tim Burton movie. I was able to extricate exactly two bites—and I mean bites—of meat. Fortunately, there were wonderful pommes des frites which I dipped into the accompanying Béarnaise sauce. I certainly didn’t go hungry. But, next time, I will stick with more oysters (who can ever get enough?) or one of the fish dishes. Au Pied de Cochon, 6, rue Coquilliere

BEST MEAL/EXPERIENCE—I suppose it goes without saying that my best meal would be at Taillevent, long considered the very finest restaurant in Paris and one of the best in the world. As I wrote last year, I made the mistake of ordering the prix fixe lunch which was lovely, but not memorable. This year, I was determined to order a la carte and what a wonderful decision that was. I was given a wonderful table and greeted sincerely, if not effusively, by Jean-Marie Ancher, le directeur, as well as several lovely captains and waiters. I was trying to maintain a sincere, but not effusive air, myself. But, then, Jean-Marie and I connected over our mutual respect for Danny Meyer and his fabulous NYC restaurants and I relaxed into myself and a fabulous dining experience starting with the marvelous gougeres of which I ate about 15. I consulted with my captain over which dishes to order, dallying between a crab tart and roasted winter vegetables. I decided to go with the latter, simply because I had eaten so few vegetables on my trip. I also ordered the scallops in a simple lemon butter sauce. And, a chocolate soufflé.

Much to my surprise, the crab tart was brought out. I could not imagine that I was being given a lagniappe at such a deluxe restaurant, so I asked the server it that was correct. He answered, “oui”, with a hint of a smile. The captain came over and beamed—“ce n’est pas les vegetables”—and we both beamed. The crab tart was luscious: slightly creamy with handfuls of crab and a very light, buttery crust. And, just a hint of shallot. Next, came the roasted vegetables accompanied by the captain with a truffle and a grater in his hand. P’sh, p’sh, p’sh went the grater until the vegetables were covered with a mound of truffles. I almost wept at the generosity and the anticipation of the wonderful taste and the sheer wonderfulness of a fabulous lunch served by people who knew how to make a guest feel truly pampered on a sunny Friday afternoon. This time, Jean Marie strolled over, bent down, and whispered—“ you have a friend in the kitchen”.

For some reason, I had a hard time with those scallops. It took me about thirty minutes to eat about ¾ of them. I chewed and chewed and drank wine to help me swallow, but they just weren’t as tender as the ones that I am used to. Of course, as I am writing this, I am marveling that I was able to even eat two of them, given what I had already consumed.

And, then, the chocolate soufflé which was perfect in its texture, temperature, and flavor.

I was the last person in the restaurant and I apologized profusely to the staff for keeping them there. It had been a dining experience to treasure—the unexpected treats, the wonderful flavors, the stately space, the kindness of the staff—all filled me with such happiness.

I saw Jean-Marie sitting at his computer in his small office off the hall and asked if I might come in. He immediately rose to his feet and we chatted amiably while a cab was called. More than 20 minutes passed and he continued to chat amiably. I told him that I would be fine alone, but he said, “I consider you a friend now and I would never let a friend wait alone”. We began talking about restaurants in Paris and he cautioned me about going to ones that are not only outrageous in price, but not of a high quality. He asked that I consult with him about my next round of restaurants and I cheerfully agreed.

Finally, the cab arrived and I waved au revoir to my new friend and smiled all the way back to my hotel, thinking of such a lovely experience.

Other recommendations-

One of my best meals was at Le Cameleon, a bistro off Blvd de Montparnasse, and featuring lovely dishes—I had a boudin noir, sole meuniere with some of the best pommes pureed of my life, and a delightful apple tart. This sounds pedestrian, but it was all perfectly prepared and the setting was elegantly casual with lots of well-heeled Parisiens in their 50s and 60s crowding the banquettes. Le Cameleon, 6, rue de Chevreuse

La Ferrandaise—located near the Sorbonne and frequented by scholarly types, this neighborhood bistro has a charming, effortless appeal. Wonderful, if a little robust, cuisine. I had a pate, boeuf bourguignon, and a chestnut soufflé and could not eat again that day. La Ferrandaise, 8, rue de Vaugirard

Tan Dinh—when you cannot handle another hearty, rich meal, I suggest this excellent, if stark, Vietnamese restaurant just behind the Musee d’Orsay. Cash only and fairly expensive—at least $60 euros—but well worth it for the change in cuisine. Tan Dinh, 60 rue de Verneuil.

Sensing—called the anti-bistro, this Guy Martin is a real find, especially when you tire of the same décor in the brasseries and bistros. Excellent and not-too-rich cuisine and a wonderful bar in the front. 19, rue Brea (just off Blvd de Montparnasse)