Tales of Two Cities

Change in Routine

We took a different route to Paris this trip, flying Icelandair (instead of Air France) with a stop in Reykjavik (instead of direct).  The trip was about 3 hours longer, roughly half of that waiting at  Keflavik Airport to board our flight to Paris. We didn't get to "our" apartment until 2 pm (instead of 7-9 am), but it would have been 1 pm if there had not been a delay with our ride from Charles de Gaulle Airport into Paris.  

Overall, we were pleased with our experience.  The service on the plane was efficient and non-intrusive without being cold.  It made me feel as though I was wrapped in serenity as well as in the warm blanket we were provided. 

One real bonus of flying through Reykjavik was that we entered the European Union in Iceland where the volume of passengers is modest and so did not have to wait through the long lines at Charles de Gaulle in order to go through passport control. 

The cloudy weather kept us from the possibility of seeing the Northern Lights on the first leg of our trip, but shortly after we took off for Paris from Keflavik Airport, we flew into the sunrise.  It was quite lovely for a few minutes before the sun was hidden by clouds.

Despite the late start to our first day in Paris, we stuck to our standard first day agenda and checked out the status of the flora in the Jardin des Plantes before eating at Les Philosophes.

The gardeners were busy at the Jardin des Plantes tidying up flower beds and grooming the grounds. Many annuals are already in the ground and a few are beginning to flower. We were delighted to find a peach tree in bloom, It may not yet be spring in Paris, but the peach blossoms promise that it will arrive soon.

By the time we finally went to bed, we felt quite settled in our home away from home.

An Old Favorite Stumbles

We were first introduced to Balzar, a restaurant located on the left bank near the Sorbonne, many years ago by our very good friends, Marie and Gérard.  It was a classic brasserie with male waiters in black vests and white aprons, crisp service and very good food at a reasonable price.

About 6 years ago, Balzar and a number of other well known Paris brasseries were acquired by a restaurant conglomerate, La Groupe Flo. The upheaval and resistance to the takeover of Balzar was chronicled in a chapter in Adam Gopnik's book, Paris to the Moon. 

Despite the concerns, however, the character of the restaurant didn't change.  We have continued to make it a point to visit the restaurant at least once each time we are in Paris.  We usually try to arrive just as the lunch crowd is thinning.  

The other day, after a busy morning in our neighborhood, we decided to go to Balzar for one of our late lunches and from there to the nearby Shakespeare & Company, a wonderful English language bookstore.

Charles ordered one of his favorite first courses, escargots à la Bourguignonne.  This is usually served on a metal plate designed for snail shells.  In all of the years that Charles has ordered this dish in restaurants modest and grand, the snails have arrived with garlic flavored  butter and bright green parsley pooling in the bottom of the indentations beneath sizzling snails tucked in their shells.  The smell of garlic reaches across the table making me wish I liked snails.

This time, when the dish arrived, we looked at it and knew right away something wasn't right.  There was no bubbling butter.  There was no scent of garlic. There was no bright green parsley.  There were only six dark shells with six dark, dry objects peeking out.  

Being a fair man, Charles tasted one of the snails and found it totally dried out and tasteless.

Mon Dieu!!  Sacré bleu!  Back to the kitchen went the poor abused snails for what I trust was a quick burial.

Happily, the second set delivered to our table was perfect, as one would expect at Balzar.  

I do have to wonder why they even served the first set of snails.  One is tempted to be insulted that they thought Charles wouldn't know any better.  A certain trust in the professionalism of the establishment has been lost. Will we continue to go to Balzar from time to time?  Of course.  But if we have another experience like this one, the restaurant will be crossed off of our list.  There are too many other options available in the City of Light.

Back in Our Neighborhood

 

We are back at 27 rue des Bluets feeling, as we always do,as though we had never left.  We found "our" apartment in nice shape and it was easy to settle in.  In many ways, it is as though we never left.

The neighborhood is continuing to change, but it has a positive vibe.The streets are cleaner than they were in April. People have a bounce in their steps and smiles on their faces.  Maybe it is the autumn weather.  Whatever the reason, it is pleasant to be strolling through the neighborhood.

Our favorite local café, Le Factory Saint Amour (formerly Le Saint Amour), is growing nicely into its renovations.  We miss the old homey menu (I particularly miss the stuffed cabbage avec son aligot) and Aniek, a manager who has been there for many years (she is home in Normandy recuperating from hip surgery).  Céline, a lively young waitress with beautiful eyes, is a familiar, friendly face, however, and we continue to feel relaxed and welcome the minute we walk in the door.  

Construction around the Ménilmontant métro stop is a major disruptionn in the neighborhood. (See panorama above.)  The route of the 96 bus has been altered because of it and it will shortly displace the newspaper kiosk where Charles buys papers early each morning.  The owner (seen here last April with Charles) will take a month and a half off beginning in mid-October then reopen his business with a new and larger facility.  He seems quite cheerful about the changes.

Monsieur and Madame Ventura continue to sell their cheeses at the Ménilmontant Friday open air market. We had a chance to visit with them briefly yesterday when we stopped by to stock up on milk and cheese.

Madame Z, the boulangère from whom we buy yummy croissants each morning, is, as ever, all smiles and sparkling eyes.  She and her family took their annual vacation in the mountains of Tunisia this summer. I always walk out of her shop feeling happier than when I went in.

We have reasonably reliable intelligence that two of our favorite restaurants in years past that had fallen on hard times have again become wonderful places to eat.  We look forward to trying out the new Astier and Chardenoux.

It is good to be back, even though things are constantly changing.  As the French say, plus ça change. plus c'est la même chose.

Reading Blogs about Paris and the French

I just came across this link on Budget Travel on-line to a number of blogs by expats about Paris and the French. One of the ones I already follow, Polly-Vous Français, is on the list.   I'm still working my way through the other blogs, but so far, they are great fun.  Check them out! 

(If you have a Google account, Google Reader is a great way to keep up with blogs.)

Another blog about things French that I have been following is John Talbott's Paris.  He is wonderfully knowledgeable about the French food scene and reviews loads of local Paris restaurants - many of which are in our price range (or almost).  He is a much more adventurous eater than I am and chooses many dishes that I probably wouldn't ever order, but it is a pleasure to read his reviews and the comments of those with whom he shares his culinary explorations.  He discusses not only the food, but the service, ambiance and the qualité/pris.  He doesn't mince words.

We are off to Paris in a few weeks.  What a great way to get me in the mood!

Eating out in Paris - Then and Now

When we are in Paris, we generally eat out once a day, most often sometime in the early to mid afternoon.

Breakfast is fresh croissants purchased from our local boulangerie and coffee brewed in a French Press, supplemented with orange juice and sometimes yogurt.

Dinner is most often fresh french bread, cheese, a salad and ham, sausage or paté, all accompanied by a nice red wine purchased from a wine store or the nearby mini-super market. 

Over the years, we have eaten at some of the finest restaurants in the city, though there are some that we have yet to try.  Taillevent comes to mind.  One memorable meal, both for the location and the company, was our dinner with Paul and Pam at Le Grand Véfour, the only Michelin three-star restaurant in which I have ever eaten.

When I was teaching in Paris in July of 2005, I spent a ridiculous amount on a superb multi-course dinner with matching wines at l'Astrance, then a relatively new restaurant recommended by our friend, Paul.  In December 2007, Charles and I joined Paul and his wife, Pam, to enjoy a lunch together at the same restaurant.  Both Pam and Paul are passionate about good food and wine. Watching Paul identify wines presented with each of the many courses in the prix fixe meal was impressive.  This man doesn't just talk the talk when it comes to wine.  The fact that I remember our lunch with such pleasure is a testament to the excellent food and the wonderful company.  I arrived at the restaurant distraught because my beloved Canon 20D had broken when it slid off of my shoulder at the Nation métro stop on our way to the restaurant. 

Another memorable four-hour lunch was spent with Marie and Gérard at Le Jules Verne, perhaps 4 or 5 years ago.  Located on the second stage of the Eiffel Tower, it was then a Michelin one-star restaurant.  I remember that Charles and Gérard ordered snail soup as their first course.  To me it looked like a thick, gray glop but to them it was ambrosia.  Different strokes.  By 4 pm. the restaurant was empty of all but the four of us.  Looking over the city bathed in late afternoon light, Charles and I called our son, Nick,in Tallahassee.  What a kick!!  Before we left, we were invited to visit the kitchen and chat with the chef, Alain Reix.  Great fun.  The restaurant recently underwent renovation and is now the domain of master chef Alain Ducasse.  One of these days we may return.

Alas, however, with the devaluation of the dollar against the Euro and the "economic crisis," we find ourselves concentrating on finding pleasant places to eat where the final bill is less - how shall I put it? -  eye popping.

Make no mistake.  Paris is not a city in which you can dine cheaply unless you wish to cook your own, buy frozen dinners at Picard (NOT my choice), hit a MacDo, try the Belgian fast food chain, Quick, buy a sandwich or crepe on the street (great fun on a beautiful day when you want to eat on a quai by the Seine), or indulge in takeaway (something we have yet to try).  Still, we have been trending toward places that provide good qualité/prix, in ambiance, service and food.

Our old staples served us well this trip:  La Contrescarpe, Les Philosophes, Les Petits Machons (see a 2006 review), Le Factorie St. Amour (previously Le St. Amour) on the corner of le Boulevard Ménilmontant and the Avenue Gambetta (near a side entrance to Père Lachaise cemetery), and Chartier (See it on Youtube.) We  returned to our old favorite, Balzar, had a late afternoon snack and drinks in the bar area of the elegant Le Train Bleu in the Gare du Lyon, and ate at  Au Bourguignon du Maris, a wonderful restaurant a block from the St. Paul métro originally recommended to us by Paul. 

This trip we added a new one to our list of pleasant places to enjoy a reasonably priced meal - one we wouldn't have tried if Klaus and Marlene hadn't discovered it.

EPSILON, located at 66 Avenue des Gobelins is a short walk from the métro at Place de l'Italie. Although the name suggests that it is a Greek restaurant,  we found the menu featured many traditionally French dinner offerings.  For 24 Euros  you can enjoy a delicious 3 course dinner.  (A 2 course dinner is offered for 17 euros.)  Marlene thoroughly enjoyed a filet mignon as her main course and Charles had a perfectly cooked whole sole.  Of course he had to remove the bones himself, but that only added to his enjoyment.

(Charles learned how to remove the bones in a whole fish in the late 1980's watching the waiters deftly tackle tong [Dover sole], the signature dish at Amsterdam's famous Oesterbar near the Leidseplein, which reminds me how, in many ways, our lives have been written in restaurant adventures.)

We also tried two somewhat more expensive restaurants that were new to us:

• Le Dome du Marais - Very elegant restaurant in the Marais (much more elegant than I had anticipated - both in decor and in mid-day menu choices) with an interesting history and classy red and gold octagonal dining room.  The food was excellent and the service attentive without being overpowering. The price is not bad if you choose one of the available prix fixe menus.  The day after we ate there, I read in the paper that it had been selected as the best restaurant in the 4th in a survey that picked the best restaurant in each arrondissement.  Wish I could remember more about the survey. 

• Le Procope - Said to be the oldest restaurant in Paris, it is located in the 6th Arrondissement near the Odéon métro.  We spent an enjoyable evening there with Ginger and Foster.  The service was very friendly and relaxed.  The food was fine.  The decor is rich in gold tones.  Benjamin Franklin ate there (not to mention many of the main players in the French Revolution). We have one friend who  recommends it highly and another who doesn't.  What I liked best, though, was the wonderful little cobblestone street that runs for about a block behind the restaurant. 

Finally, while I don't recall the names of all of the restaurants we have enjoyed with her, we can always count on having delicious lunch with our friend Lori, who works for the Ministry of Culture.  She  chooses a cozy restaurant within a block or two of the Ministry and we have never had a bad experience.  If you are in the area of the Louvre or the Palais Royale, check for the places along the Rue St Honoré (heading away from the Place de la Concorde) and the nearby cross streets.  If they are full of businessmen and women, you know that if you order a prix fixe menu, you will eat well at a reasonable price.  Of course, finding a table might be a problem!

Plus ça change ...

We are back in Paris!

We arrived early Tuesday morning.  After dropping off our luggage, we stopped for a quick cup of coffee then took a bus directly to the Jardin des Plantes.  We found everything looking very tidy and a bit bare with only a few plantings adding color to some of the flower beds.  The scene was brightened by one magnificent flowering tree resplendent with white blossoms (you can see part of it on the right of the photo) and another smaller tree sporting gorgeous cherry blossoms. As it did last year, spring seems to be coming late to Paris. 

 Lest you think that the Jardin des Plantes has a totally timeless feel to it, here is a picture of what greeted us as we entered the main gates.  I haven't yet decided if it is as jarring as the fire-breathing dragon constructed of recyclable materials that spent a couple of years near the main entrance, but it certainly catches the eye.

The whale, made by the toy maker  Mecano, promotes an exhibition about aquatic mammals at the Great Hall of Evolution.  We are definitely going to try to see it before we leave.

From the Jardin des Planets, we strolled along the Seine then crossed over to the right bank to Les Philosophes, our favorite "first day in Paris" restaurant.  The staff was eating their lunch when we arrived, but they gladly let us take a table and people watch until they were ready to start the lunch service.    We spent a very leisurely couple of hours there before heading back to "our" apartment to begin unpacking and, yes, to collapse into bed for an afternoon nap.

We were tired not just because of the overnight flight that allowed only a few hours of restless sleep but because we had both gotten up very early on Monday morning.  Yoda, one of our beloved cats, needed emergency attention.  We whisked her to Angell Memorial and, after discussing all of the options, decided to leave her in the skilled care of Team Yoda (Erika, her  long-term vet,  Lisa, her regular technician and Alejandro, also a technician and currently our cat sitter) and keep with the program.  Those of you who are animal lovers will understand how hard a decision that was for us.  So far Yoda is doing very well.  We are keeping our fingers crossed but take comfort in knowing that, whatever happens, she is in the gentle hands of people who care for her.

It's Always Something...

We had an easy trip from Boston to Paris.  Both of us snoozed, though for once I got some real sleep courtesy of skipping dinner and a drug boost (Lunesta).  We arrived 10 minutes late, disembarked at a gate so we didn't have to take a 25 minute  bus tour of Charles de Gaulle airport to get from our 747 to the terminal, whipped through passport control and didn't have to wait too long for our luggage.

All squared away, our attention turned to finding Monsieur Misery, whom we had engaged to drive us into the city. He arrived almost immediately bearing a sign with our names on it. (See photo.) Although he meets us at the airport each time we come to Paris, the placard was a first and I'm not sure how I feel about that.  I mean, is he afraid we won't recognize him or that he won't recognize us?  Probably the latter.

Dawn slowly turned to gray daylight as we drove into the city.  (The trip into Paris is always interesting with  Jacques at the wheel, but with only Sunday traffic to deal with, it was a less exciting than usual.)  In no time, we were at home in "our" little apartment on the rue des Bluets.

After a short nap (it was very hard to keep our eyes open, especially with gray skies threatening rain), we went out to lunch with our friend and landlord, Bill, at one of our lunchtime favorites, Les Philosophes on the rue Vieille du Temple.  Then it was off to meet friends from Versailles, June and Robley, for a concert being held at the Carnavalet Musuem - or so we thought.

With lots of time to spare I occupied myself with snapping shots of the lively scene in the Marais on a Sunday afternoon.  (See the first of my Photos du Jour for this trip in the gallery on the right.  Be sure to double click on the photo to see a copy of the entire picture.)

As 3 o'clock approached, we headed to the Carnavalet.  After walking along the rue de Sévigné where the main entrance can found, we discovered that the museum was closed for Armistice Day.  (Yep.  today is November 11!)    Darn, I thought, I got the locale wrong.  We walked the not inconsiderable circumference of the Carnavalet looking for concert venues, but came up dry.  There was nothing for it but to hike briskly to the nearest subway (Chemin Vert on line 8) and get ourselves home to confirm the venue. Once back in the apartment, the mystery was solved.  I had not  been mistaken about the locale.  The concert was at the Carnavalet.   (Point for me.)  Alas, it took place yesterday.  (Minus 5 points for me.)

Just when everything is going right, there is always something to remind me that I am fallible. 

We ended our first day in Paris with a light supper accompanied by wonderful champagne grown and produced by Alain Navarre of Reuilly.  (Thank you, Bill !)

Nous sommes arrivées!

Postcard du Jour # 3- Spring 2007 -Culinary Discoveries

Cooking Class - One Saturday afternoon, we took a cooking class based on a "Menu Bollywood" with Chef Marie Chemorin in the basement kitchen at Goumanyat & son Royame, a wonderful spice store not far from the Place de la République.  With us were friends from Boston, Ginger and Foster, and two charming French women.  Sitting around a counter, we all participated in the preparation of the menu by peeling and chopping vegetables,mangoes,and spices (including extracting cardamom seeds from their pods), and removed the fat and membrane from a economical cut of lamb (Charles performed this chore).  The group jelled quickly with the aid of a little wine, and soon we were all joking and chatting as though we had known each other for years.  Chef Marie, who speaks some English, not only showed us cooking techniques, she forced us to think through the most efficient way to pull together 5 different dishes in a limited amount of time. Class started at 12:30 and we ate the fruits of our labor around 3.   

Peyrassol Restaurant - 13, rue Vivienne in the 2eme arrondissement.  Our good friend and neighbor, Lori, recently introduced us to this tiny restaurant near the Palais Royale and the Passage Vivienne.  Truffles are the specialty of the house, the cuisine is Provencal, and the wines from the "terroir" of the Chateau Peyrassol.  After being seated, we were offered a tasting of the wines and somewhat reluctantly we tried the rosé, which turned out to be perfect for a hot day.  Prices are reasonable, service cheerful, and the food delicious.  Do not miss the caves where you will find a the private table tucked into an intimate, softly-lit corner.  The charming little gift shop next door, which offers products from Provence, is worth a visit.   

Le Bistrot Paul Bert - Located in the 11th arrondissement on the street with the same name, this restaurant did not disappoint.  We went on a warm evening with our friend Bill . We each ordered a three-course prix fixe menu for 32 Euros (approximately $43). The service was pleasant and friendly and the food excellent.  The first courses were especially memorable:  three large scallops, each presented on a shell with a sumptuous butter sauce, and rongnon de veau(veal kidneys), again in a subtle butter sauce, and fresh green asparagus served warm with a light dressing and tiny pieces of a semi-soft sharp cheese. We all had beef for the main course and found the meat delicious but the size of the serving excessive. The desserts were predictably irresistible.  I succumbed to my weakness for Ile Flottante and the men chose (perhaps more wisely) the fresh strawberries.  The wine list is excellent and reasonably priced.

Bistrot Le Tire Bouchon - Located on the rue Guillaume Bertrand not far from "our" apartment, this family run bistrot features food from the Basque region, much of it based on recipes passed down from the  proprietor's grandmother.  We spent a cozy evening there with our neighbors, Sam, Lori and 5 1/2 year old Léane.  The restaurant is decorated with photographs, memorabilia, antiques (including a beautiful brass still), a 4-foot high painted statue of a cowboy (perhaps from Australia where the proprietor's brother runs a successful Basque restaurant) and a miniature mill house with an operating water wheel. Two small dogs were in evidence at the beginning of our visit, but disappeared as the restaurant filled up.  The offerings were closer to comfort food than to haute cuisine, making this bistrot an appealing destination after a long day. 

Cautionary Tale - We've had one bad dining experience this trip.  At a small wine bar in the 20th arrondissement known for its excellent, if limited, bistro menu, we were seated in one of two small rooms in a corner tucked in cheek by jowl next to a table for six.  We arrived at 8 and watched the restaurant fill up while enjoying well prepared appetizers and delicious main courses along with a bottle of Morgan recommended by our waiter. The restaurant was pleasantly lively with a low level buzz of talk and laughter.  About the time we were deciding what we would order for dessert, six American 20 somethings sat down at the table beside us.   The apparent hosts, a man and a woman who had recently become engaged, had extremely loud, grating voices, but that wasn't the worst of it.  Our neighbors got louder and louder as they exchanged stories about their lives.   It wasn't long before the roar of their laughter became so frequent and overpoweringly loud that it was actually painful to our ears.  Charles and I were unable to talk to each other at all, even leaning across our small table.  But we were able to signal that the situation had become intolerable.  Charles left the table to ask the proprietor if there was someplace else where we could eat our dessert, but the restaurant was full, so left our desserts on the table, paid the bill and left.  I suppose the same thing could happen in any small restaurant, but it was a real disappointment for us and ruined what had until that point been a very pleasant culinary experience. 

Incroyable Mais Vrai! - In Which a Photographer Gets Her Just Deserts

One of the restaurants that we try to visit whenever we are in Paris is the turn of the 20th century bouillon (worker's canteen), Chartier.  Located through a small courtyard off of the rue de Faubourg Montmartre in the 9th arrondissement, it is a huge restaurant with towering ceilings, mirrored walls, giant chandeliers and beautiful brass luggage racks. Think an upscale Durgin Park with a Parisian Belle Époque flair.  Chartier seats more than 300 people family style at tables for four or six and you are likely to find yourself elbow to elbow with strangers, sharing the mustard, the bread basket and, with luck, interesting conversation.

The waiter writes your order in beautiful script on the paper "tablecloth" and, at the end of the meal, he enters the price of each item, speedily adds up the tab in his head and, voilà, you have your bill.  Apparently, in earlier times, "l'addition" was tallied on real tablecloths.

Although our schedule was chock-a-block full during our last week in Paris, we made a special effort to fit in our semi-annual lunch at Chartier. We were pleased to find ourselves seated beside two french women, one of whom had been patronizing the restaurant for 30 years.  She knew exactly what she and her guest (a first timer) wanted, and promptly ordered choucroute and plain water for each of them.  When he saw steaming plates of choucroute set down in front of our neighbors, Charles promptly changed his order to the same thing.  For reasons that will become obvious, I don't remember what I ordered.

As we were chatting, one of the women pointed to a chandelier across the room and said something about a pigeon.  Huh?  I looked but couldn't see anything except the chandelier far across the room.  "See," said Charles.  "It moves when the bird moves."  Oh. There it was.  Yes.  It was a pigeon.  A live pigeon.  In a chandelier.  Perched above one of the restaurant's tables.  That, happily, was empty.

Naturally, I pulled out my camera and took a quick shot of the chandelier and its passenger.  (See above.)   What photographer would not have done the same?  If you double click on the detail from the picture to the right, you should be able to see the blurry bird's beady eyes and note that they seem to be looking right at me.  Is he trying to telegraph his outrage that I was taking his picture without first asking permission?  Or is he measuring me as a potential target?

We all chuckled uneasily while wondering how he got into the restaurant and why he was allowed to stay.  Realistically, how could they get rid of him during the height of the luncheon crowd?  Would pigeon be on tomorrow's menu?  In no time, however, the novelty wore off (the bird was way across the room, after all) and we returned to enjoying our lunch and taking in the lively scene at floor level. 

Suddenly one of the French women gasped again.  She was pointing to the chandelier hanging right above me.  I looked up and this time had no problem seeing the pigeon, or more accurately the back end of the pigeon, perched high above me and, more importantly, directly above my lunch.  Oh dear.  Oh NO.  Oh yes.

I laughed good naturedly while moving my plate as far to the corner of the table as possible.  The whole situation was surreal and, really, there was nothing to do but laugh.  That or throw a tizzy fit.  Then, suddenly, while I was cooly ignoring the whole situation, as was everyone else around us -

SPLAT.

The top of my left hand had taken a direct hit and, as it turned out, my left shoulder as well. 

Flurry on the part of Charles as he tried to get the attention of a waiter.  Stunned silence on the part of our two French table mates.  "Pardon, Madame," said the waiter as he brought me extra paper napkins  to help me clean myself up, dropping them on the table as he rushed past.  I wondered briefly if it might not have been better if I had shot the damned pigeon with something other than my camera. Then I started to giggle.  It was funny.  It was really, really funny.  Absurd and funny.

There was nothing to do but continue with our meal.  The whole episode had caused barely a ripple among the other diners, as though it were an everyday occurrence (which, I can assure you it is not!).  Or, perhaps, they were politely trying to spare me embarassment.  We lingered over dessert and coffee well after our table mates had departed before signaling the waiter that it was time to tote up our bill.  The lunch crowd was almost gone by the time we left.  The pigeon was still there. 

I should have been grossed out.  I should have been disgusted.  But it was so funny, all I could do was laugh.  And be grateful that I had been born with a sense of humor. 

Will we go back to Chartier?  Absolutely!!  Of course, I will be sure to bring an umbrella next time.  Just in case.

If you have nothing better to do than read stories about my restaurant misadventures, click here for a tale of another time when having an umbrella handy would have helped.  And, by the way, note that the fellow standing in front of Chartier is furling his umbrella.  Undoubtedly, he just finished lunching there.

Branchés Mais Pas Lookés

Hip but not cutting edge chic.  That about describes us, right?  OK.  Maybe I exaggerate in calling us "hip."    Still, it is sometimes fun to pretend and recent visits to two trendy restaurants in "our" quartier have given us the occasion to do so.

Le Charbon. We finally tried Le Charbon at 109, rue Oberkampf. It was recommended to us by a Parisian who lives nearby and whom we met while eating at another restaurant in the quartier last spring. More recently, it was mentioned in a Washington Post article where it was described as a restaurant that had fallen victim to its own hype and been invaded by the tourist crowd. My earlier blog entry on the subject can be found here.

We arrived for dinner just before 8 on a week night hoping to avoid the crowds (dinner time in Paris being closer to 9 than 8).  What we found was a hopping bar scene populated by 20 and 30 somethings smoking cigarettes and drinking in animated clusters along the full length of a very long bar and out onto the sidewalk.  It brought to mind the after work scene at many restaurant's in Boston's Back Bay and it was hard to imagine that anyone in this crowd  was a tourist.  We peered through the murky windows and observed some tables, but no one was eating.  Only drinking.

Charles went in to check on the situation and soon motioned me to push my way through the throngs.  It turned out that the restaurant doesn't begin serving dinner until 8, which is the norm for bistros. We were seated by a pleasant young woman with spiky hair, given menus, and quickly presented with the aperitifs we ordered.  Around us the scene slowly changed.  The bar thinned out, although it continued to be well populated.  Those who had been drinking at tables left and the dining area began to fill with the couples and groups looking for food. The music was loud and definitely not from our era, but it, along with the low light and the animated conversations all around us, created a lively ambiance, which we found pleasing. We never felt out of place, despite being well outside the demographics for the restaurant.  Hardly anyone was smoking, although we were not sitting in a no smoking area (if they even have one) so I am not counting on being so lucky the next time.

The menu does not offer typical brasserie fare.  Instead, one can chose from a couple of vegetarian offerings, dishes with an oriental flare and a few fish and meat dishes.  Neither escargots nor confit de canard appears on the menu, but there was something for almost everyone's taste. We both started with chilled, delightfully crunchy green asparagus lightly dressed and topped with thin shavings of cheese. For the main course Charles had a steak, which he pronounced tasty and perfectly cooked. I had cheese filled ravioli in cream sauce topped with paper thin slices of Parmesan, which was delicious but too rich for my taste. It all went down quite nicely with a half carafe (roughly 3/4 bottle) of Bourgueil.  For dessert, I tried the restaurant's dessert of the day - Ile Flottante - which was a total disappointment.  The egg whites were rubbery instead of feather light (hink undercooked scallops).   Charles finished his meal with a calvados.  Throughout the service was pleasant and cheerful and the people watching superb. Although there were certainly other foreigners in the dining room, we didn't spot any obvious tourists. 

L'Estaminet.  Just a few blocks up the street toward Ménilmontant at 116, rue Oberkampf you will find a corner restaurant that serves continuously from noon until 12:30 in the morning.  The ground floor consists of a small bar and dining area that seats roughly 25 people.  Downstairs is a non-smoking dining area with rounded brick ceilings and no windows.  (We understand that there is also a garden for use in good weather, but it was not open when we went.)  We chose to eat upstairs with the smokers because we prefer being in rooms with windows. Each of the dining areas is slightly wider than a métro car. Tables are jammed close together.  Servers, all of whom were pleasant and cheerful, have less room to maneuver than stewardesses on modern jets.  The menu offerings are written on blackboards hung from the walls, often forcing a strange kind of intimacy with fellow diners because, unless you are very lucky with your seating, finding out what is on the menu requires you to stand up and lean over someone else's table (dodging the waitresses all the while, of course).   No matter, it is all part of the scene and no one seems to mind.  The clientele included a wider range of ages than Le Charbon, but we were still the oldest folks there - at least upstairs. 

The menu in l'Estaminet is somewhat more traditional than that of Le Charbon.  Charles had oeuf cocotte with bacon for his first course and I chose the croustillant de chevre with honey and nuts and a side salad.  My choice was a real winner, although it really was enough for a whole dinner.  (The young French woman who sat next to us had it as her main course after choosing another appetizer to start her meal.)  For the main course, Charles had confit de canard and I chose the souris d'agneau.  We shared a bottle of red wine from the Rhone valley and skipped dessert.  Everything was delicious.

As we knew would be the case when we chose to eat upstairs, we had to put up with cigarette smoke.  More of a downside was the noise level which required us to shout at each other to be heard, which we managed to do quite cheerfully!  Even with the drawbacks, though, we had a wonderful time, surrounded as we were by animated, happy diners in an intimate space that worked. We will go back.