LE RICHER -- A Perfect Neighborhood Joint That's Worth A Journey Across Town, B+

 

   I know, I know, I'm a bit odd, because I actually like winter. Some part of this preference may be due to my New England upbringing, but most it surely comes from the DNA I inherited from stalwart ancestors 95% of whom lived in cold, light-deprived parts of Northern Europe my surname notwithstanding. So sallying forth on a winter night when big fat lazy snow flakes were whirling to the ground, I was in fine fettle, because I was meeting a friend at the new Septime La Cave, the wine-bar annex of Septime, a restaurant I like very much.

 

  Alas, my pal didn't turn up, and though Septime La Cave is a pleasant enough spot for a glass of wine or two if you happen to be in the neighborhood (the deep 11th arrondissement in eastern Paris) on your way to dinner at Septime, Le Bistrot Paul Bert, L'Ecailler du Bistrot or Le 6 Paul Bert, it's not really a destination in and of itself. So after a bracing pour or two, I got on the horn to the indefatigible Bruno, and we met at another place I've been wanting to try, Le Richer, which is in the buzzy quarter around the rue du Faubourg Saint Denis in the 9th/10th.

 

  The already flannel-clad Bruno nicely agreed to change back into street clothes and meet me, and as soon as I walked in the door at Le Richer, which is run by the same team as the swell L'Office across the street, I knew I'd love this place. First of all, the aesthetics were impeccable, with an old corner cafe having been transformed into a really good-looking neighborhood bistro with exposed stone walls, perfect lighting, an oak bar, and a sound-proofed gray ceiling which meant that you could enjoy the funky retro music but still here a pleasant background noise of conservation.

 

  Since every table in this no-reservations place was full, we sat at the bar, and had a glass of excellent of Vin de Pays d'Allobrogie Domaine des Ardoisieres Argile Blanc, a superb Savoyard white, and studied the short menu. Though starters like a saute of butternut and pumpkin with mustard greens and burrata and cream of celery soup with blue-cheese whipped cream, sliced pears and walnuts sounded terrific, we both just ordered a main course, since it was late. 

  

Pan-roasted duckling breast

Roast lamb in potato foam

 Both of them were brilliant winter eating, which is to say really consoling and warming food that also surprised by being light, precisely cooked and cleverly garnished. Bruno's ducking came rare as ordered with sliced beets, beautifully made gnocci Parisienne, and a sublime mole-spiked nougatine, while my roasted lamb was tucked under an airy potato foam with firm chunks of Jerusalem artichoke and a scattering of verjus-moistened mustard grains. Accompanied by a terrific Domaine Combier Crozes-Hermitage, these dishes vanished in a heart-beat, and suddenly we were very happy for having a place we really liked not too far from home that we could go to last-minute seven-days-a-week.

  

  The charming and attentive service of Raoul, the friendly bar tender-barrista, added a lot to our good time, too. Like all really good restaurant people, he takes sincere pleasure in seeing other people enjoy their food and their wine, and this sets in motion a pleasant pendulum of mutual satisfaction between the server and the served. He also filled us in that the chef in the kitchen is a really talented young Japanese man and that Le Richer's coffee comes from Coutume, the great little cafe and roaster over in the rue de Babylone.

  

 

  We hadn't really planned on having anything more, but Raoul vaunted the cheese plate from a fromagerie in the rue Cadet, so we decided to share one and were generously served. The cheeses were terrific.

  

 

  The apple tart with lime-spiked cream and the floating island with caramel and mango both sounded wonderful, but struggling to stick with a new (and miserable) low-calorie regime, we gave them a pass, although I know I'll definitely have dessert when I come over here on my own for lunch without Bruno sometime very soon. So let's let this be our little secret. As it is, I doubt Bruno would be very happy to know that I've already let the cat out of the bag by blogging about a place he liked so much, but with any luck at all, this terrific place will serve as a model for the renovation of many other drab and struggling neighborhood cafes all over Paris.

 

  Le Richer, 2 rue Richer, 9th, No phone/no reservations, Metro: Poissonnière, Grands Boulevards, Bonne Nouvelle or Cadet. Open daily for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Average two-course dinner 30 Euros. Sandwiches, tapas and other light eats are always on offer.

 

  Septime La Cave, 3 rue Basfroi, 11th, Tel. 01-43-67-14-87. Metro: Ledru Rollin, Voltaire or Charonne, Closed Sunday and Monday.

LA BRASSERIE DE L'ISLE SAINT LOUIS-- A Surprisingly Good Brasserie, B

Photo @ Peter Turnley

   The tragic skid into an unappetizing senility that most Paris brasseries have experienced during the last twenty-five years is a subject I've often written about, and it remains a sad and sore topic with me, because I so loved the brasseries of Paris before they fell victim to poorly played business schemes to make them part of money-spinning chains. If I've always loved the food of Paris bistros more, nothing could beat the city's brasseries for their irresistible atmospheres of desultory glamour. In my mind's eye, in fact, the brasseries of Paris will always register as they do in the beautiful Peter Turnley photograph above. 

 

  With the recent and continuing cold snap in Paris, I found myself craving a good choucroute the other night, and having fallen into conversation about this deeply nourishing Alsatian dish of sauerkraut topped with charcuterie and various cuts of pork and a few potatoes with the elegant old woman in bus who had sweetly complimented the scarf I was wearing, I found myself cajoling Bruno into accompanying me on an unexpected mission the other night. I wanted choucroute, and I was willing to put the nice lady's recommendation of La Brasserie de L'Isle Saint Louis, a place I hadn't been in at least fifteen years, to the test. 

  

 

   Bruno balked for the same reasons many Parisians might. With the brasserie's extraordinary location on the quai de Bourbon just over the foot bridge from the Ile de la Cite, logic would tell you that it's a tourist trap. A tiny bit of Bruno's exapseration abated when we were warmly welcomed here, and things further improved when we our excellent bottle of Pinot Gris was served. Staring at the wagon wheel chandeliers overhead and the hunting trophies on the wall, I churned through my memory trying to remember on what occasion I'd last been here and with whom, but I kept firing blanks, and then Bruno's frisee and my tarte a l'oignon were served by our amiable, wry and wise-cracking waiter. Both were very good, too.

  

 

  The people watching in this black-and-white dining room was wonderful, too. Aside from two German business men getting politely sozzled across the way, on this cold winter night, the Parisians all looked like people with interesting histories. "But my book was published just after I'd returned to Paris from living in Uruguay for five years," was a snatch of conversation I overheard that made want to listen to the rest of the story.

  

  Just before the choucroute arrived, we fell into conversation with Jerome Kappe, one of the two brothers who are the third generation of their family to run the brasserie, and he told me that they actually make their own choucroute everyday, which was quite a surprise. And then the dish arrived, and it wasn't the choucroute that first convinced me that the old woman on the bus had been right, it was the potatoes. These were real peeled and boiled potatoes, and not the shrink-wrapped pre-skinned and cooked ones you find everywhere in Paris now. The choucroute was excellent, too, and so generously garnished that I regretted having had a first course. "This is really good, what a surprise," mused Bruno, but I was too happy enjoying the sting of mustard in my nostrils and the smoke on my palate from a perfectly grilled piece of pig belly to answer right away.

 

 

  Suffice it to say that I ate a lot more than I should have, but this was the best choucroute I'd had a in a longtime, and the quality of the cooking was such that I'm planning to go back soon as see if their other specialty, cassoulet, is as good as this one was. In the meantime, I've thought of that choucroute at least once a day with the deepest yearning, because it tastes so much like France, the eternal France.

   

55 quai de Bourbon, 4th, Tél. 01.43.54.02.59. Metro: Pont Marie. No reservations, non-stop service from noon-11pm. Closed Wednesday. Average 35 Euros.