Joe Ray

Monday, December 14, 2009

Au pied de cochon

PARIS

The “Run Away!” category was designed for meals like this.

A rainy, hungry cold and dark afternoon in Paris called for something warm and reassuring. We almost went for pho in Belleville but my visiting friend suggested soupe à l’oignon (French onion soup) it seemed perfect.

Le Pied de Cochon is a Paris classic dating back to when Les Halles was the mammoth food market I’d give my pinky to have seen, not the current resident: a subterranean shopping mall that both houses and smells like a swimming pool. Restaurant names from the market period were designed with its oft-illiterate workers in mind. If you were looking for the boss who was cutting a deal for broccoli or tossing a couple back, he would be at the Chicken in The Pot, the Bell, The Drum or…the Pig’s Foot.

I was reassured that though the tourists were making up a majority of the customers - particularly as it was only four in the afternoon - there was was also an older, distinguished looking gentleman eating by himself and reading Le Monde dated the following day.

Waiters and waitresses buzzed around, giving the restaurant a wonderful, busy feeling and when the soup arrived, and we breathed in its wonderful smell - a bit reminiscent of Mom’s chicken pot pie - we felt like happy and lucky little kids.

We should have stopped there. The soup tasted like soap.

At least the broth did. I nibbled my way dutifully through the cheese on top, hit the broth, winced, tried again, tried my friend’s broth and then just stopped eating.

I never stop eating.

What’s worse is that this is the traditional food for served in Les Halles, arguably the birthplace of soupe à l’oignon. I tried distracting myself by thinking of the word Francois might use when confronted with something like this, but in the end it was all mine: atrocious.

We split duck confît that arrived cold and limp and when we sent it back for a warm-up, it came back lukewarm and limp.

That was enough. We left.

Count on around 15-30 euros better spent elsewhere.

Au Pied De Cochon - MAP
6 rue Coquillière

75001 Paris

+33 1 40 13 77 00

www.pieddecochon.com

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Thursday, April 09, 2009

Leave the wine. Take the cannoli.

A quick pause from Belgian beer to say that when it comes to finding the best Italian in the 11th arrondissement, you win, Francois.

Last night, taking the advice of locals and friends, a sommelier friend and I went to Casa Vigata for Sicilian on rue Léon Frot for a hit and miss extravaganza.

The hits:
The Seafood – a clam and artichoke appetizer full of flavor and sauce made for bread dipping, whole-roasted octopus served with just a slice of lemon and a perfectly-cooked breaded swordfish main. Paris can be disastrous when you’re looking for good fish and these guys nail it.

The Cannoli – Leave the gun. The friendly owner makes these daily using a crispy shell, light, tangy ricotta and just a touch of candied orange peel. If there’s better in Paris I haven’t found it.

The misses:
Consistency: Our neighbors ordered two of the same dishes as we did; their octopus was cooked better (mine was slightly over) and their swordfish/caponata portions were significantly larger. They also got a shot of lemoncello with their check. The last is certainly at the owner’s discretion, but all three together leave a bitter taste.

The worst:
The wine – overpriced and, um, bad. A red Sicilian table wine for 40 euros? I love a good Nero d’Avola, but please.

It took us 10 minutes looking at the wine list to essentially decide how we were going to be fleeced and we still lost. My friend was talking about…something when I got distracted by a sip of the white we ordered…

Me: “This is bad.”
Sommelier friend: “Very bad.”

The verdict?
I’ll try again in a year. Maybe.

Casa Vigata MAP
44 rue Léon Frot
75011 Paris
+33.1.43.56.38.66

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Sunday, September 28, 2008

I Lied

I’ve been asked by French food writer Francois Simon to contribute to the English-language version of his blog, Simon Says. Simon is the food critic at Le Figaro and kind of like the character Anton Ego from the movie “Ratatouille” ...in dandy form. Want to freak out a French chef? Tell them Simon will be coming for dinner.

In parallel, The Boston Globe asked me to contribute to their travel blog, Globe-trotting, where my entries will show up next to award-winning journalists, Tom Haines, Lylah Alphonse and Ethan Gilsdorf.

To quote myself quoting “The Godfather” to help explain why a guy named Guido would use an umbrella to harvest mulberries from a tree in Sicily, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.

So I’m blogging again. Here, on Globe-trotting and with Simon Says. Not just Sicily anymore, but France, Barcelona, across Europe and around the world. The Motherland is officially spreading its wings. But it’ll always be about food. Only the good stuff.

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