Endangered in Paris Restaurants: Cooking

I've been watching an alarming trend gain momentum in Paris for some years now: there's less and less real cooking going on in Paris restaurants. Too many of them do what I call "cuisine d'assemblage," or dishes that are a question of a little slicing (charcuterie) and washing (salad), than real cooking. If was of course the Costes brothers who pioneered this technique--same menu in two dozen restaurants, with things like a glass of carrot-ginger juice as an appetizer, salade d'haricots verts, etc. It's easy to see the appeal of this approach--it keeps costs down, but what it amounts to is a hollowing out of the real and wonderful work of actually cooking.

A more recent take on this phenomenon are a raft of a new restaurants that serve pedigreed produce--Gillardeau oysters, Basque and Spanish charcuterie, etc., most of which is either organic and/or comes from sustainable sources. A good example is the much lauded new Glou, a good looking storefront space in the northern Marais just across the street from the Musee Picasso. It was opened a few months ago by Julien Fouin, the founding editor of the  French food magazine Regal. Fouin, a nice guy, is at the epicenter of the young French food world, so his place has been the object of his praise in a variety of different Paris magazines and papers. What most of them have been focusing on, however, isn't the food, but an Italian machine that allows them to pour great wine by the glass while preserving the rest of the bottle. 

Anyplace that pours Cote Rotie by the glass sounded pretty good to me, so I went to dinner the other night with another Yankee food scribe to see what the fuss was all about. Well, the fuss began as soon as we got there, since the laudatory coverage of this place means that its packed to the rafters and the kitchen and staff seem to be having some trouble keeping up. We sat in the new upstairs dining room--there two large table d'hotes on the main floor, a bar and a table or two--and scrutinized the menu over very good glasses of Vouvray, a lovely Spring wine for its gentle floral notes. 

It was hard to decide what to have, because when I go out, I want to eat things that I am both unlikely to cook or buy. This is why I'd always pass up a plate of smoked salmon, for example, for something more complex. The problem in chosing a first course was that almost none of them involved any real cooking. Finally I decided on the terrine de campagne and my fellow scribe the smoked tuna from l'Ile d'Yeu (off the coast of La Vendee). I found the tuna, which came with a small mesclun salad, quite bland, but the terrine was very good and generously served.

Main courses presented a similar conundrum:

Grilled pork breast with pommes de terre grenailles (baby potatoes)

Grilled Morteau sausage slices with blonde lentils

A hamburger of Salers beef with pommes de terre grenailles

Organic salmon in sesame seeds and baby spinach

Wild shrimp from Madagascar with vegetables and sweet-potato puree

Now I like pommes de terre grenailles, but it's easy to see why they'd appeal to a restauranteur. Compared to frites or puree, they're extremely easy to do--you just rinse the potatoes, drizzle them with some oil, season them and bake them until done. And for me they tell the entire story of Glou. If the grilled Morteau and prawns were decent enough, they left us both feeling deflated. Why go to a restaurant to eat things like this?

To be sure, we very much enjoyed our Lapierre Morgon, reasonably priced at 33 Euros, and it would have done nicely with any of the four good cheeses (bleu d'Auvergne, Comte de 24 mois, camembert au lait cru or Salers) had we not already guzzled it all down during dinner. So we finished up with a delicious caramel and walnut tart bought in from the spectacularly good boutique of Jacques Genin around the corner.

This meal cost 125 Euros, which is a lot of money for a feed where so little cooking had occurred. Yes, the produce was excellent, but cooking is a question of transformation, not plating. Walking home, I went by Le Pamphlet around the corner, and found myself wishing we'd gone there instead. Chef Alain Carrere is a passionate chef who cooks his heart out day in and day out, and in these straightened times, these are the restaurants that I not only most enjoy but which warrant the support of all passionate foodlovers, places where the cook still cooks.

Glou, 101 r ue Vieille du Temple, 3rd, Tel. 01-42-74-44-32

Le Pamphlet, 38 rue Debelleyme, 3rd, Tel. 01-42-72-39-24

L'Entetee and Georges: A Tale of Two Cities

This week I'm blogging on Paris restaurants for the NY Times "T Style" section. My first post was on how I find mid-range dining to be vastly better in Paris than in New York. Dinner in Paris last night and tonight underlined, however, that the Paris scene is still pre- and post-recession. Let me explain.

Last night I went to dinner at Georges, the Costes brothers restaurant on top of the Centre Pompidou with a good friend. I hadn't been in ages, since it's not the type of Paris restaurant I enjoy. To wit, my priority is always good food, and charming service and a cosy setting help, too. Anyway, up the escalators to Georges we road, and while I was impressed all over again by the stunning view from the top of the museum, and also noted that the service was more attentive and friendlier than it had been in a longtime, I was stunned by the menu and the prices. Good grief! The menu had hardly changed a jot since the last time I was here, maybe four years ago, but the prices remain stratospheric. Decent though it was, my "Terrine luxe de confit de canard" wasn't worth 20 Euros by a long stretch--the luxe being two tiny bits of foie gras in a middling portion of duck terrine. Judy's Nems (deep-fried Vietnamese spring rolls) were decent enough, but again, not for 16 Euros! Next, I had a Costes classic, an "Aller-Retour," chopped steak with a log-cabin of fries and a small salad of herbs. To be fair, it was good--perfectly cooked, delicious meat, excellent fries, but for 28 Euros?!? More egregious was Judy's "Paillard de Poulet Dore Minute, Sauce Curry et Chutney"--a slender piece of chicken with two ink pots of sauce for a whopping 26 Euros. Much as we enjoyed the view, and a very good Saint Joseph, there's absolutely no way either of us would set fooot in this place again unless we won the lottery.

Crossing the Seine tonight to celebrate Judy's birthday, we booked at L'Entetee, a tiny little bistro just off the delightful rue Daguerre (it's one of the most underrated market streets in Paris, and everytime I walk its length, I think, "I could live here"). With only twenty covers, L'Entetee was reeling a bit from its new "Bib Gourmande" label in the 2009 Paris Michelin Guide. Still, this place was a charmer from the moment I stepped through the door. I sipped a delicious white Menetou-Salon for 6 Euros a glass while waiting for the birthday girl and Bruno, and when they finally showed up, we all agreed that we'd happily eat the entire menu. To wit, everything appealed. B and J were rather letdown by their asparagus (3 spindly spears) wrapped in bacon, but I very much enjoyed my "tatin d'endives au chevre," although Francois Pasteau's version at L'Epi Dupin is better. Next, my grilled scallops came in an orange "caramel" with a side of ratte potatoes and broccoli, Judy had an excellent filet of sea bass with terrific pistou sauce, and Bruno, a pot au feu de canard. Aces for the main courses, and aces for the fine Crozes Hermitage at 30 Euros a bottle. Desserts were outstanding (for a bistro), too--"tatin de pommes" with a salted caramel sauce, sublime date mousse with a briliant little salad of sugared herbs (mostly coriander), strawberry soup with basil-perfumed whipped cream, and (we were curious) a very pleasant chocolate creme brulee au romarin (rosemary). Despite a hitch or two in this meal, it was absolutely delightful, and the three of us dined for 2/3rds of what Judy and I had spent at Georges the night before. I'll happily go back to L'Entetee, but the next time I want to relish the marvelous view from the top of the Centre Pompidou, I'll sit outside on the roof-top terrace for a coffee.

L'Entetee, 4 rue Danville, 14th, Tel. 01-40-47-56-81. Metro: Denfert-Rochereau.

Chez Georgette--My Local Canteen, B-

Not surprisingly, people often ask where I go for a good, quick, affordable last minute meal in my own neighborhood, which is the 9th arrondissement in the heart of Paris. I have many local favorites, but the one place that never lets me down is Chez Georgette, a brightly lit little bistro in the rue Saint Georges. Consider that during the last couple of months, I've probably eaten here a dozen times, and under quite different circumstances. Last night, I went as part of a band of six--Bruno, two friends visiting from New York and the French couple they're staying with.

The gang gathered chez nous first for Champagne and nibbles (Auvergnat sausage, caperberries, and a Spanish mixture of deep fried corn kernels and lima beans combined with raisins, peanuts, almonds and hazelnuts). On a Friday night, the gang arrived late, derailing a reservation I'd made elsewhere, so I quickly plucked up the phone and booked us at Chez Georgette at 9.30pm. 

Not only were they happy to take us, but this small dining room with tables that were once French elementary school desks (topped with different primary-color Formica) is a cosy, casual spot that works just as well for an unwieldy group of six as it does for a couple or a quartet. The menu's ideal, too, since they're always several pastas and salads that make vegetarians happy, and a couple of delicious suggestions du jour. Three of us loved the leek, spinach and potato soup that was the day's starter suggestion, four of us had only compliments for the daube de boeuf (one of my favorite French dishes, and a great provencal classic of beef braised in red wine) served with paparadelle, and all of us loved the poached fresh figs with almond ice cream. Other dishes that won raves during our meal were the homemade pate en croute served with salad, bavette (skirt steak) with mashed potatoes, and salmon in a light tomato coulis. Knowing we'd likely have a bottle or two, I steered us towards a pleasant, good-value Cotes du Rhone at 24 euros, and it was a perfect party wine.

Popular with bankers and fashion execs from the nearby Galeries Lafayette offices at noon, Georgette (and yes there really is a Georgette--she's the gentle but bemused proprietaire with the Colette stye bob and red-lollipop framed glasses), it's always packed with a happy sociological totem pole of bourgeois and bobos in the evening. Great French comfort food and an unfailing good time just a few doors down from chez moi--no wonder I'm so happy living in Paris.

Chez Georgette, 29 rue Saint Georges, 9th, 01.42.80.39.13. Metro: Trinitee or Notre-Dame-de-Lorette 

The Pizza Problem in Paris

Though it's been a good twenty-five years now, I am still recovering from the shock I experienced during the course of a meal at Pizza Pino on the Champs Elysees. Why, you're surely wondering, would anyone eat pizza in Paris? Well it was a rainy Sunday night in August, and Mom and Dad, with the four of us in tow, decided to take the low road and head for the pizzeria just around the corner from our hotel in the rue Marignan. We'd eaten in bistros for the previous five nights, and with the rain and the effort of trying to find anything French open on a Sunday in August, the siren sound of the local pizzeria was heard and answered.

What ensued was an experience of communal familial hilarity that was never to be repeated. I mean after all, coming from Connecticut, we know our pizza, and so the menu at Pizza Pino was so utterly demented that we had trouble keeping a straight face when the waiter came to take our order. It was tough, in fact, to decide which was the weirdest pizza on this menu. Maybe the Pizza Hawaiian with PINEAPPLE slices!? Or the one with the fried eggs! Or a topping of salad!!! Clearly, we decided, the French didn't get pizza at all.

Like most blanket judgements, this one turned out to be wrong--despite the gruff service, I love Pizza Etienne in Marseilles, and in Paris, Pizza Vesuvio in Saint Germain does a perfectly honorable pie for a perfectly reasonable price.

Unfortunately, however, a spate of recent openings in Paris prove that the French still regard the pizza like the gastronomic equivalent of finger painting, with the base being a blank canvas that's waiting to be enchanced by odd, expensive and sometimes odd and expensive ingredients. A case in point is the teeth-grindingly named Pizza Chic in Saint-Germain. WIth its trying-too-hard rococo decor, absurdly high prices and pizzas garnished with everything from lardo di colonnata (exquisite Italian fatback best eaten raw) and truffles its a casebook study in Gallic pizza vandalism, but Pizza Chic is just one of the latest outbreak of boffo pizzerias in Paris. Al Taglio in the 11th, which serves sheet pizza, is another, along with the truly deranged Alice Pizza in Montmartre, where I encountered a pizza topped with gorgonzola, marscapone, Parmesan, arugula and Balsamic vinegar-raspberry syrup the other day. 

If I were the Italian ambassador to France, I'd send Alice Pizza the diplomatic equivalent of a cease-and-desist letter. In the meantime, I'm happy to head for my old standby, which is Pizza Vesuvio in Saint Germain. They bake their pies in a wood-burning bee-hive oven, are graciously willing to add a couple of capers to a Margherita if asked, and serve decent Italian reds by the half-bottle and carafe. They're also open seven days a week, and so when the pizza urge strikes, it can be easily satisfied by heading for this place, which really is the only pizzeria I'd recommend in Paris.

Pizza Vesuvio, 1 rue Gozlin, 6th, 01.43.54.94.78. Metro: Saint-Germain-des-Pres.  

Le Meating--Say What? A Gallic Steakhouse

Le Meating certainly won't work for everyone, but if you' know Paris well and are enough of an intrepid gastro-sociologist to sacrifice a slamp-dunk good meal for one that's oddly interesting, you might enjoy this very popular steakhouse in the 17th not far from La Porte Maillot. Since Americans have been doing their own riffs on various bandwidths of the French restaurant spectrum for years, it's actually sort of fun to see what the French get up to when they decide to have a crack at one of our emblematic tables, the steakhouse.

Before diving in on an account of my recent dinner here, I'd pause to note that a broad spectrum of Parisians truly love this place. Show biz types, Mohammed Qaddafi's daughter (seriously, she was sitting at the table next to us), pairs of yuppie ladies on a let's-splurge night out, and the 17th arrondissement in all of its curious splendor--nouveau riche, ancienne regime riche, etc. packed out this place with a low-lit lounge-bar decor of patterned carpet and flower-motif appliques on the walls.

What's got the gang really going, though, is the new 34 Euro menu here, which includes three courses and a half bottle of very decent Bordeaux (a la carte, it's much pricier). Settled in at a table overlooking the sidewalk outside, which the genial host referred to as "La Mer" (the sea), we loved our starters--a delicious tuna tartare garnished with bean sprouts, fresh coriander, lime zest and ginger and a scallop carpaccio served on a bed of diced celery root. Squid sauteed with oyster mushrooms was delicious, too, as was the bread that came with these first courses.

Next, la viande, bien sur. My Nebraska-raised pave de boeuf (well-marbled steak) came with first-rate potato puree in a copper sauce pan and a trio of sauces--bearnaise, a good beef jus, and a curious slightly peppery barbecue-sauce inspired gravy, while Bruno's veal chop from the Correze, was succulent, flavorful and perfectly cooked. The included-in-the-menu Bordeaux was good, too, as were sides of mixed green veg (snow peas, strin beans and zucchini) and a saute of button and oyster mushrooms.

To be sure, most Americans would find the portions dainty compared to what you'd get in a New York steakhouse, but in the habitual context of this idiom, it was a relief not to be leaving behind a sadly wasteful amount of food by the time our plates were cleared.

Desserts, however, are decidedly French, including a citrus salad served in a water glass capped with a hollowed out orange half filled with meringue and rice pudding with a clever assortment of garnishes--salted caramel suace, pop corn, and candied nuts and dried fruit.

All told, this was a very pleasant meal, and one I'd recommend to anyone who wants a night off from more adventurous dining during a trip to Paris. It'd also be an ideal spot for a business meal, since service is courteous and brisk, the room is quiet and tables are widely spaced. The only thing that went missing? Onion rings, but otherwise the Gallic refinement applied to a decidedly red-white-and-blue restaurant staple was very welcome.

Le Meating, 22, Avenue Villiers, 17th, 01.43.80.10.10. Metro: Pereire