We arrived in
grilled duck necks from dans les landes click here for more dans les landes photos |
Our plans for Monday evening took us to the Marais district. Before dinner, we stopped by The Experimental Cocktail Club for drinks. This was quite the experience. As someone who grew up in
After drinks, we walked a few blocks to Frenchie for dinner. The concept here is to present a nightly prix fixe menu of dishes crafted to emphasize local, seasonal foods. The menu offers two choices for each course and an optional fois opening course, so between the two of us, we sampled the full menu, as follows:
duck fois gras torchon and pear
black trompette mushrooms, chicken liver
parfait, figs, fresh hazelnuts
crab, tomato, basil, hysope
trout, cauliflower mushrooms, walnuts
guinea fowl, eggplant, bell pepper, feta
wild blackberries, lime, hazelnuts
miso ice cream, plums, raspberries
black trompette mushrooms, chicken liver parfait, figs, fresh hazelnuts from frenchie click here for more frenchie photos |
From a planner’s perspective, Tuesday’s lunch and dinner were a
mess. My idea to have a galette and cider for lunch at Little Breizh stalled when we arrived to
a sign stating that they were closed for the day so that they could paint the
restaurant. Insistent that I find
another creperie in the neighborhood,
I began an internet search that should’ve landed me at La Creperie des Canettes. As we approached rue des canettes, we saw a large yellow sign proclaiming CREPERIE
and darted right in. The server brought
us menus and while I found it odd that they were covered in pictures of clowns,
I forged ahead and ordered. Shortly thereafter,
I realized that we were not in La
Creperie des Canettes when I spotted the sign in the restaurant for Creperie du Clown. Still in the dark, I assumed that the name of
the restaurant had changed. My galette arrived, and it was okay. Not bad, not great. We finished our lunch, crossed the street,
looked back, and saw La Creperie des
Canettes right beside the clown spot.
We were oh so close.
goat cheeses from androuet click here for more androuet photos |
In keeping with Tuesday’s theme of poor planning, we walked back to the
hotel and wondered how we would ever eat dinner after such an incredible
afternoon. We lay around in a cheese
coma for a little while and finally mustered up the energy to dress for
dinner. We walked a mile to La Table d’Aki to discover that
something with our reservation was awry.
Long story short, we turned around, walked back to the hotel, and went
to bed.
le crabe royal from l'atelier de joel robuchon click here for more l'atelier de joel robuchon photos |
la
tomate
en gazpacho aux croutons dores, sorbet
moutarde a l’ancienne
le
crabe royal
aux fines lamelies de raves epicees
le
caviar
et sa crème aigre, sure une pomme de
terre mixee a l’huile d’olive des baux
l’oeuf
cocotte a la crème legere de girolles
le
foie gras
de canard chaud, cocos de paimpol au jus
d’hibiscus
le
gyoza
a la plancha, farcie de volaille, dans
son bouillon au parfum d’asie
le
saint-pierre
dore a la plancha sous une vierge
condimentee a l’huile de pistache
l’agneau
de lait
en cotelettes a la fleur de thym
le
black angus
Coeur d’onglet fondant, aux echalotes
confites
le
parfum des iles
crème aux fruits de la passion et a la
banana, granite au rhum, legerete a la noix de coco
le
chocolat tendance
ganache onctueuse au chocolat araguani,
glace au grue de cacao, biscuit oreo
We enjoyed every dish. Our
favorites included the tomato gazpacho with mustard sorbet, the crab royale, the 65-degree egg
layered between cream and mushrooms, the saint-pierre with nori and pistachio
oil, and the beef with shallot confit. Oddly enough, I expected this to be the
disappointment of the week. With so many
quaint, trendy spots on my list, I suppose I thought this wouldn’t live up to
the hype or the “big name” label. When I
mentioned to friends that we planned to lunch there, most responded with
lackluster comments seeming disappointed that we’d spend our time there. I know this much…there is a reason Robuchon’s
name is on the door. This meal was
nothing short of magnificent.
After our leisurely two-hour lunch, we ditched all plans for afternoon
museum tours and hiked around the city for the next three hours…from
Saint-Germain into the Jardin de
Tuileries down avenue des
champs-elysees to the top of the Arc
de Triomphe under the Eifel Tower through the Invalides neighborhood, and
back to our hotel in Saint-Germain. We
needed every mile of that walk.
I opted for dinner at Chez l’Ami Jean
on Wednesday night, because I wanted to experience a real neighborhood bistro
in Paris . I imagined a casual spot where the chef and
the servers know the patrons, and everyone is there to enjoy great food in the
company of friends and family. With so
many endearing reviews about its food and charm, I expected Chez l’Ami Jean to be one of our best
dinners, but alas, it was not. It’s a
shame, too, because from the moment I walked in, I found it brimming with
possibilities for greatness. By all
means, the atmosphere lived up to the hype.
Locals finishing their meals walked over to the service window to shake
hands with the chef, have a few laughs, and thank him for their meals. As we took our seats near the kitchen, a server
delivered a full terrine of pate de
campagne, a crock of cornichons, and a basket of fresh bread. I couldn’t help gushing, and my anticipation
for dinner heightened. We ordered the
tasting menu, and the first dish arrived, a parmesan soup with buttered
breadcrumbs and parsley. A simple,
flavorful opening course that anyone would enjoy. The second course arrived, sausage and oyster
in a mushroom broth, and I liked it but immediately thought the broth was over-salted. In the midst of this course, my opinion
regarding the bistro’s charm began its steady decline as I witnessed the chef
yell at a server on the floor a la Hell’s
Kitchen, not to mention his incessant loud clapping to summon servers to
the window. The third course arrived,
calamari noodles, chanterelles, and fois gras in another salty broth. Again, the execution and the quality of
ingredients impressed me, but I couldn’t get past that broth. At this point, I asked the hubs, “is it just
me?” He tends to like saltier dishes,
and even he agrees. The fourth dish
arrived, roasted monkfish with white beans and bacon in yet another salty broth. Not wanting to offend, I tried to finish the
dish, but the fish was overcooked to the point of requiring a knife to cut it, plus
it had a large, ugly bloodline in it. I
realized that I was in serious trouble as I began to wonder how I would finish
another dish. It wasn’t just that the
portions were large, but that coupled with the saltiness made me feel as if I
might swell up and pop the zipper in my dress.
I left a chunk of the fish with bloodline on the plate and reluctantly
finished the rest of the dish. When the
server came by, he asked why I hadn’t finished the fish. I paused and considered my options. No matter my response, I would surely be
labeled the ignorant American, so I opted to play the role of the woman who was
simply getting full and saving room for the next course. Thinking this strategy more polite than
criticizing the heavy-handed saltiness of the broths and the overcooked fish, I
expected the server to smile and take away the dish. Instead, he raised his voice to ask again why
I didn’t finish the dish and if there was something wrong with it. At this point, what appeared to be the entire
front of house staff surrounded our table to hear my answer, and I suddenly
felt like I had been transported to a theater stage with a full chorus chanting
in stage whispers “she didn’t eat the monkfish,” and “what’s wrong with the
monkfish?” as the music swelled behind them.
Embarrassed, I stuck with my original answer that I was just getting
full, and a cacophony of sighs emerged from the chorus. The rest of the meal is a bit of a blur. We had two more large (and salty) protein
courses each preceded by our server taunting me about whether or not I would be
able to finish them. I did finish them,
but it was a miserable experience. To
add insult to injury, the server arrived at our table with a wry grin on his
face and presented a vat of rice pudding large enough to feed an army. At this point, laughter was the only antidote
to the evening’s progression, and although we didn’t love the food, the sheer
spectacle of it will forever hold a special place in my heart. We laughed all the way back to our hotel and
then some.
croissant de beurre and tarte aux pommes from poilane |
pate de fruits from jacques genin chocolatier |
We spent the rest of the afternoon visiting the Pompidou Centre and leisurely walking back. As we strolled through Les Halles, I noticed
a large kitchen store on a corner and darted in. It was full of people, which seemed odd,
until I realized that it was the store made famous by Julia Child’s patronage, E. Dehillerin. For a while, I just worked through the
utensils one by one giving myself a sort of, “hmm, what does this do?”
quiz. If it hadn’t been so crowded, I
could’ve stayed for hours. Instead, we
ventured west and ducked into Telescope
for a coffee while we waited out the first rain shower of our trip.
raw oyster from spring click here for more spring photos |
buttery creamed potatoes, chervil oil
raw oysters, apple gelee, raw green apple
trout, honey-olive oil sauce, radish,
herb salad
langoustine, butternut squash puree,
chanterelles
pigeon breast, bok choy, marrow broth
pigeon leg quarters, roasted turnips,
microgreens
cheese course of chevre served on a
chestnut leaf, brie de meaux, roquefort
pear, mini mille-feuille, raspberries and
thyme
buttery potaoes and chervil oil from spring |
We slept in a little on Friday morning before visiting the Louvre for an obligatory glance at Mona Lisa and a few Michelangelo statues. Then, we lingered around the nearby gardens and just soaked in as much
crab and tofu spring roll with plum sauce
sweet potato noodles, white sesame, and
shiso
steamed oyster, fois gras, and raw
cucumber with date-seaweed sauce
steamed buns
shrimp and chanterelles in fish broth
chicken and apples with shaoxing wine
sauce
chocolate cake with almond cream and
brittle
raspberry sorbet and fresh raspberries
shrimp and chanterelles in fish broth from yam'Tcha click here for more yam'Tcha photos |
We spent the rest of the afternoon strolling through St. Germain. After a leisurely visit to Delacroix’s home,
we headed to Pierre Herme for a
sampler box of macarons. (Earlier in the
week, we sampled macarons from Laduree
and Sadaharu Aoki, and I needed to
try Pierre Herme before we left the
city in order to form a somewhat knowledgeable opinion in the whole “best
macaron in Paris ”
debate. While we enjoyed them all, Laduree’s pink peppercorn macaron
received my vote for best macaron of the two dozen we tried over the course of
our week.) For our final order of
business, we circled back to La Derniere
Goutte for our final souvenir…a box of wine. These guys are so nice, and their selection
and pricing is great. Just as impressive
as their selection and pricing, the case of wine they packed for us to check as
luggage arrived to Miami in pristine condition.
We began our walk back to the hotel, and I couldn’t help wondering if yam’Tcha for lunch, instead of dinner,
had been a mistake. It seemed an
impossibility that any restaurant would compare….but I was wrong.
Friday evening, we headed north on the metro for dinner at Le Chateaubriand. Until this point, our Paris restaurant experiences had been fairly
low key and quiet (with the obvious exception of Chez l’Ami Jean), and as we stepped onto Avenue Parmentier, I immediately recognized that we were embarking
upon new territory. The streets buzzed with
energy, and I discovered that the “rock n roll” vibe I expected to find in Paris ’s hot spots was
alive and well at Le Chateaubriand. Our meal was phenomenal. The dishes ranged from minimalist
thought-provoking ideas to full-flavored bold presentations. Our menu included:
cheese puffs
ceviche shots
fried shrimp with passionfruit powder
squid noodles, squid ink, raw pear
raspberry lobster broth
red snapper, green tomato, pimenton
bream, mushrooms, yellow beans, fermented
black beans
rare beef with thin potato crisps and
chives
egg yolk atop crunchy meringue
chocolate ganache, fresh mint granite,
cocoa powder
fresh strawberries and candied anise seed
As the menu progressed, my admiration for everything Le Chateaubriand amplified. We reached the pinnacle of the meal when a
server presented the egg yolk atop crunchy meringue. He instructed us to eat the whole yolk and
meringue in one bite, so I carefully scooped the full bite into my spoon. Wow!
The yolk oozed into the meringues, and as the crunchy bits of meringue
began to melt, the textures and flavors achieved a beautiful synergy. Without question, that was the best bite of
our vacation. The server smiled and
nodded. Later, he told us that it is his
favorite dish, as well, and the three of us spent a few minutes discussing and honoring
every perfect detail of it. This is the
kind of energy I love in a restaurant. From
the bussers to the kitchen, everyone working there believed in, embraced, and
supported the cause wholeheartedly. Fresh
and hip. Bold and creative. Emotive and smart. Dinner at Le
Chateaubriand transformed and elevated my idea of a great meal, and its
spirit will forever dwell within me.
Best meal of the vacation!
egg yolk atop crunchy meringue from le chateaubriand click here for more le chateaubriand photos |
Our week in Paris
was truly unforgettable. I’ve returned
to Miami with a
new respect for the Parisian way and a keen curiosity for further
exploration. From the happy accidents to
the less-inspired plans, I will cherish every moment.