Joe Ray

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Dusty laurels

It’s fine. I just don’t get what the fuss is about. Maybe I miss my old bakery - L’Autre Boulange in the 11th.

Belleville’s Au 140 bakery won Best Baguette in Paris in 2001 and the way they string the accolades up around the bakery, you’d think it was last week.

There are more scientific ways to do this, but the most Parisian baguette test is to nibble off the end on the way home. A really good one won’t be sticking out of the top of your bag by the time you unlock the door.

Still, it’s fine. There’s a trace of an almost sourdough-y bite, but I’d be hard pressed to say it’s much better than most. Top 40 percent? Mine was a bit past its prime freshness and mysteriously cool on the inside, but that might just be me being sensitive and wanting it to live up to expectations.

Up in this neck of the woods, there’s La Flûte Gana on the Rue des Pyramides which is technically a flute and not a baguette, but it blows the doors off of Au 140.

L’Autre Boulange MAP
43 rue de Montreuil
75011 Paris
+33 1 43 72 86 04
http://www.lautreboulange.com/

Au 140 MAP
140 rue de Belleville
75019 Paris

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Tuesday, June 09, 2009

Scallops like scallops. Pigeon like pigeon.

PARIS – It’s perplexing when a new favorite doesn’t live up to what you remember.

A few months ago, I went to F.S. favorite Au Bascou and had a transcendent dish that, when I looked at the price - a bit more than what I’m used to paying with mains in the low to mid twenty euro range - still said ‘well worth it.’ I knew I’d go back.

Tonight, on my return, I thought of the restaurant as a place that out of town guests would never find on a first trip to Paris and it was only…good.

Scallops tasted like scallops. Pigeon like pigeon. Cooking temperatures were perfect, yet nothing was lifted to that happy level where what’s in your mouth becomes more interesting what you’re talking about.

Fittingly, a thirty-odd euro Corbières was never mentioned as good or bad. The service was as slightly understaffed and flighty as ever – nothing to complain about at a corner café, but here, it feels like you’re paying for a bit more and not quite getting it.

I want to like this place as much as I did before. I want my meal to interrupt.

Au Bascou MAP
38, rue Réaumur,
75003 Paris
+33 1 42 72 69 25

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Thursday, May 07, 2009

Lunch by the numbers

Paris

Get there before it’s overrun with ministers.

Maybe because it’s brand new and hasn’t been discovered yet. Maybe it’s because it was a vacation week or just a slow day, but four of us had Le 122, smack in the heart of ministry central to ourselves.

Instead of that depressing, feel bad for the owners, ‘why are we whispering?’ feeling, it was perfect. The chef and his wife came over to talk once in a while and the waiter nosed in with an off the cuff crack that had huge crash and burn potential, but instead, he had read us perfectly.

Chef’s pedigree shows in his fish dishes like a toothy and full of flavor smoked sardine and anise-tomato marmelade appetizer and a cod pissaladière – a Provencal pizza cousin, this one doing a wonderful job of respecting the fish.

We share a Coteaux du Vendomois that Chef calls his wine of the month. It’s made by a friend of his and so good and well-priced, I hope everything on the wine list is made by his friends.

Dessert? Strawberries with a tea foam that sits in a glass bowl and looks like a floating flower.

A friend was supposed to leave early, instead, she asked for another spoon.

Le 122 MAP
122 rue de Grenelle
75007 Paris

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Monday, March 16, 2009

Bubbly Basics

I wheedled my way into a Krug Champagne tasting in Barcelona the other day – my birthday no less! - getting a chance to sip on some pretty fancy stuff.

I can’t say buying a bottle of their bubbly is the first thing I’d do with a few extra c-notes, but I liked LVMH (Krug’s parent company) enologist Xavier Montclús’ back-to-basics, grapes-to-glass approach to the tasting, even in a room full of food-industry pros that included sommeliers and Michelin-starred chefs.

A few highlights:

THE GRAPES:
Montclús’ metaphors to understand part of each grape’s role in Champagne…

Pinot Noir – “The backbone and the muscles that hold up the wine” – anti-flab, if you will.

Pinot Meunier – “The bones which give fruit flavors like pear, peach and quince…remember that the best taste in meat is closest to the bone.”

Chardonnay – “The skin.” The skin? Eww. “Like on a peach. It contributes smell (honey, for one)
and golden color.” Mmm.

PRESENTATION:
- The Cork - “Loosen the cage that holds the cork, but keep it on top of the bottle, with your hand on it at all times,” he says, reminding me of a moment when I was a waiter on a San Francisco Bay dinner cruise (dressed like Gopher from “The Love Boat,” no less) and put a quarter-inch dent in a ceiling tile with a cork before beaning a woman on the top of her head. Hoo, dear, I couldn’t stop laughing. “Hold the cage & cork in one hand and turn the bottle with the other.”

- The Bucket – “Fill it three-quarters of the way with ice, then halfway up with water.” A bottle that hasn’t been cooled should be kept on ice ½ hour, but not more. “Minimum temperature should be five degrees Celsius (41 F) – lower than that just brings out the defects.”

- The Pour – “Never serve more than half a flute.”

Bottoms up!

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Monday, March 09, 2009

Fair vins and following seas

Bad news, bar fans!

Even in Barcelona, word got to me that after decades of running one of my favorite spots for a Paris apéro, Elyette Planchon has hung up her high heels and sold Au Reve, her 18th arrondissement landmark bar, and retired. For the returning traveler, Elyette and Au Reve were the perfect way to feel back at home in the City of Light.

Not for lack of trying, but one of my biggest food regrets in Paris is never having had one of her semi-secret Wednesday lunches.

Sniff!

Instead of crying in my beer, let’s raise a glass of wine to Elyette, wish her well and do as it said on her apron – la geste qui sauve les vignerons* – take a sip.

* “The gesture that saves winemakers”

Click here to see my Boston Globe Travel article, “Paris dreams of things to come – after an apéro” which features Elyette and Au Reve

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Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Snail’s Grace

An old standby is a new favorite.

I’d been to L’Escargot, tucked away in the far reaches of Belleville, years ago when Canadian singer Sarah Slean and her entourage were in town and they turned to me for a place to go.

It’s been a bit too long to remember what we ate, but my favorite moment was when the diva’s dad turned to me and said, “That was the best meal we’ve had in France.”

Recently, I ate at L’Escargot a couple times in a two-week span – enough to notice that chef Frederic Valade had the guts to propose gizzards as a bar snack. Earning more points, I also learned he runs a triperie (hard-core butcher shop) down the street.

… but I’m putting the cart in front of the horse.

Like Mehdi As-Siyad at L’Incroyable, what Valade is doing is some of my favorite stuff in Paris right now – young chefs, making some seriously good food and having fun.

One night, Valade walked out into the open kitchen in a pink wig, then giant sunglasses, then a cabaret-style sequined hat, all of which would have made him look really dumb if the food wasn’t good.

Instead, his duck confît is among the best in town – crunchy on the outside, melting on the inside and packed with flavor. Add to the plate a little tower of mashed potatoes with truffle oil and a salad with a vinaigrette that keeps your taste buds awake and - Petit Fer A Cheval take note - you’ve got something comforting, luxurious and well-priced.

Almost every dish at L’Escargot is this good – a venison steak with winter vegetables, braised lamb shank that bursts with flavor, incredibly tender kangaroo (!) filet and ‘beef bo bun’ – a bowl of bite-sized seared flank steak in a lemongrass sauce.

Dessert? The only problem with the crispy crepe (think: thin cousin of a sugar cone, broken up, and shaped into a little puck of goodness nestled under a dense cloud of whipped cream) was that I got a little aggressive with my spoon and launched half of the dish onto the table and my lap.

I ate it anyway.

L’Escargot
50, rue de La Villette MAP
75019 Paris
+33 1 42 06 03 96

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Saturday, January 31, 2009

La Coupole

In nearly a decade living in Paris, I had never been to the Montparnasse brasserie La Coupole - it’s the Bostonian’s equivalent of never having been to Legal Sea Foods.

Part of the reason for not going was that I snobbishly avoid chains on principle and La Coupole is owned by the Flo group, which owns or bought up more a dozen brasseries in Paris and across Europe including Bofinger, Brasserie Flo and Julien.

I’d also be justified in staying away for nothing more than wanting to boycott those cheap-looking sandwich board that each Flo brasserie has out on the sidewalk advertising something like a 19-euro prix fixe menu. It looks like they pimped them from the semi-ubiquitous French steakhouse chain called Hippopotamus. I imagine the original owner of each brasserie groaning every time they walk past those things.

But the other afternoon, it was cold and we needed a coffee, went inside and I immediately wondered aloud why I had stayed away so long. Like brasserie Wepler, it’s got that great, big-town feeling that envelops you as soon as you walk through the door. Everything from the big, beautiful cupola that floats over the room to the waiters in their black and whites swooping around with big plates of shellfish to the sense of space the mammoth room affords – it all gives a sort of city comfort.

What I’d really like to applaud is the price of La Coupole’s coffee and hot chocolate. Though 4,10€ for cappuccino makes me groan, particularly considering the poor quality of most French coffee, I’d pay a similar price at my neighborhood café. La Coupole’s hot chocolate, made with high-end Valrhona chocolate, costs about the same and it beats the pants off the powdered junk with the pony on the label that most cafes use.

La Coupole MAP
102, bd du Montparnasse
75014 Paris
+33 1 43 20 14 20
http://www.flobrasseries.com/coupoleparis/

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Thursday, January 29, 2009

Switching From Work to Play

I arrived a few minutes early to lunch the other day at Auberge Pyrénées Cévennes and knew I was in good shape by watching the table of businessmen across the room.

Before the food arrived, everyone was fidgety – they clearly didn’t know each other too well and spent time pulling their cell phones from those goofy belt-holster things to check messages instead of talking with one another.

Their wine showed up and the mood lifted, but the big change came with the first plate. A fortysomething guy with glasses and salt and pepper hair watched a neighbor’s plate arrive and his face sort of melted. Then he switched to a big, childlike grin.

The noise level picked up noticeably as the plates arrived. Everyone was smiling. Suddenly, everyone had something to say. The bridge between business and pleasure had been crossed and one of the men lifted a glass and offered a toast.

“Bon appétit, les amis!”
…

Auberge Pyrénées Cévennes is not for the slightly peckish – this is the cuisine of la France profonde, complete with hunting lodge décor, and built for that kind of appetite: a standard lunch might be a big lentil salad, a wonderful cassoulet, and a fantastic tarte tatin that comes (as it should) with its own bowl of crème fraiche.

The 30-euro menu is more than you need at lunch (price included), but at dinner, it would just make you feel spoiled and happy.

Auberge Pyrénées Cévennes MAP
106, Rue de la Folie Méricourt
75011 Paris, France
+33 1 43 57 33 78

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Thursday, January 22, 2009

Duck Quackery

Thanks to a dinner at a friend’s house in Barcelona and another at one of my new Paris faves, l’Escargot, I’ve recently been lured back into loving confît de canard.

Crunchy on the outside, melting and moist on the inside, these two dinners reminded me why the dish is a classic.

This afternoon, however, at Le Petit Fer à Cheval – a Marais classic in its own right and a place that prides itself on the dish – I remembered why it’s been so long.

Allow me to work through my plate in reverse…

Yes, it’s winter and the selections at the vegetable stands are pretty grim at this time of year, but this was particularly depressing. There was a vague wave in the direction of seasonality with some cabbage, and there was even a bit of variety, but everything either squeaked on my teeth or was mushy.

C’mon guys…live a little and drizzle some olive oil on the steamed broccoli, try finishing the green beans with some butter and shallots or just punt and swap the veggies out for a salad. I love being in the Clean Plate Club, but not today.

The potatoes next to the veggies were hand cut and crunchy on the outside - Hooray! - but more than a few were crunchy on the inside, too. Ick.

Finally, the duck itself reminded me why I hadn’t had this dish in so long – it was crunchy on the outside (though I almost wonder if, considering the laziness of the preparation for the rest of the dish, they just crisped it up by throwing it into the Frialator with my spuds), but inside it was lifeless.

What’s frustrating is that I like this place – the well-dressed waiters, the U-shaped bar that gives the restaurant its name, the big wall clock that goes backward, the good Parisian feeling that you get here – but I think it’ll be a while before I come back.

I lied unconvincingly when my waiter asked me how it was but the kicker, and a good part of the reason why I’m writing this, was the ridiculous price tag: 20 euros (!!!) or the equivalent of 26 bucks. At L’Escargot, where I would eat it again and again, their confît comes with a potato puree with truffle oil and a beautiful salad for 17 euros.

Expensive and good I can deal with. Expensive and bad just makes me angry.

“Really?” I blurted out to the poor bartender.

“The duck is the specialty of the house,” he said.

It has nothing to do with the guy behind the bar, but quit insulting me.

L’Escargot MAP
50, rue de la Villette
75019 Paris
+33.1.42.06.03.96

Le Petit Fer à Cheval MAP
75004 Paris‎
+33.9.62.09.23.38‎

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Thursday, January 15, 2009

Knuckles, Onions and a Man Alone

Put to the test on where to go in the neighborhood to fulfill a French onion soup quest, the team at La Cave à Jojo floundered.

“That’s tricky around here,” said Jojo, batting ideas around with clients at the bar, before smiling. “I’ve got it.”

We walked back into the night, skirting the base of Montmartre and bringing our bodies down to the right temperature for soupe à l’oignon.

On the way to our table, a man alone ate oysters from a raised platter, following each with brown bread and sweet butter, then luxuriously washing it down with some white wine; we were in the right place.

I’ve known this – the one-man reward in a bistro - and seeing the man made me think of doing the same several years ago, filing a story at some ungodly hour and heading to Au Général Lafayette for pig knuckle, choucroute and beer. Similarly, every year when I get a new carte de séjour, I straight from the prefecture to the Petit Fer à Cheval where I order steak tartare, silently toast my grandma and thank God I don’t have to renew the damn thing for another year.

Back at Wepler, the breeze blowing through an open door shook me from my reverie – Paris city air sweetened with the sea salt it picked up blowing across the oysters kept outside.

Inside, three men who have ordered two coffees look up as the waiter arrives.

Garcon smiled, placing the coffee on the table and slipping a chocolate to the guy who didn’t need any more caffeine.

In this temple of consumption, the thought of it all made the conversation better, made me hungrier.

We ordered soup, my friends agreed to split a chèvre chaud, but they stared at me funny when I ordered a pig knuckle.

I raised a silent toast to grandma and dug in.

Brasserie Wepler MAP
14, Place de Clichy
75018 Paris
+33 1 42 93 70 84
www.wepler.com

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