One Last Paris Post - Our Last Meal

I let H pick the restaurant for our last night in Paris. He remembered a place he’d been to about 10 years ago on the Ile St. Louis. This being Paris, Restaurant L’Orangerie (28, Rue Saint Louis en l'Ile 75004 Paris) was still there and still wonderful, although headed by a different chef.

We found our way with no problem. There’s only one street that runs down the inside of the entire length of the Ile and this was on it. It’s a small and lovely restaurant with especially attractive lighting that is soft and low and leaves you glowing, even before your first glass of champagne.

Speaking of champagne, take a good look at these glasses. Aren't they gorgeous? I liked the kind of rippled effect they had on the bottom.




Now don't be scared of this picture. This leetle vignette was charming. (Of course it was behind me, so I didn't have to look at it.)




One of things I loved was that we were given a lot of free stuff! The first was a lovely amuse-bouche of puff pastry rounds – one was topped with a roasted tomato slice and one with caramelized onions. Quite yummy.



THEN another taste enhancer was brought out. At the bottom of the little glass was a pepper purée, on top was a fish soup with a dab of basil(?) purée.

I’m sorry the picture isn’t clearer.

H had their well-known Foie Gras with a fig confiture - Foie gras de canard confit entier au sel fumé, confiture de figues épicée, sucre pétillant de pain de campagne grille (preserved fatted duck liver from Landes "à l'ancienne" with spicy dried and fresh fig chutney and grilled country bread).



H's only complaint was that there were 2 slices of foie gras and one would have been fine. I contemplated sticking the second one in the zipper compartment of my purse, but I thought it might make my metro tickets sticky.

I had the Ravioles de champignons de Paris aux truffes du Lubéron, sauce fleurette à l’infusion de morilles. In other words, mushroom raviolis with truffles in a light creamy foam of morels. It was heavenly, although, personally, I don’t find foam all that attractive. It makes me think of…well, I don’t think I’ll start talking about saliva here…and now.




Oh, we ordered a half bottle of this wine…Let’s not talk about how there was a gap in the wine list. There were a bunch of 30ish Euro half bottles of Cotes du Rhone and then a jump to 70 and 80 Euro half bottles. We asked for a bit of advice and not surprisingly the 74 Euro half bottle was suggested. Ehh, so each glass - assuming you get 3 glasses from the bottle - was about 37 dollars. (We DID take the metro to dinner.)



The main courses were served. Does this happen to you? You love the starters. You love the little other stuff. You love the wine and you’re looking forward to dessert, but the main course is never quite as good.

I guess it’s like the old rule of thumb where the first date (or appetizer) is the best, because it’s all exciting and new, the second (or main course) is always a let down, because it can’t compare to the first and the third (or dessert) is good again, because you’re comfortable, but ready for an enjoyable experience. OR I suppose it could just be that the first courses were very filling…but I like my explanation better.

H had dorado (again), avec mijoté de fenouil au citron confit à l’aneth, jus de braisage à la vanille or a dorado filet, slowly cooked fennel and preserved lemon with dill with a jus with vanilla. I didn't taste it, it looked good. But I thought the vegetables could have been tarted up a bit.

I had the Coquilles Saint-Jacques with crispy garlic bits and a timbale of diced vegetables. If this had been Top Chef, I would have said, "Good. It was good, not great."

One more palate cleanser was served. It was a light-as-air, fluffy, raspberry (I’m not swearing it wasn’t strawberry) mousse topped with a mint gelée. Very delicate.

Dessert was a treat without being overwhelming. I’ve said before, that even though I LOVE chocolate, I usually don’t order it in fine restaurants. I don’t think it’s the greatest test of a pastry chef. It’s so easy to make it fabulous. I like to see his or her skill using other ingredients.

We had the assiette de crèmes glaces et sorbets de saison or the plate of sorbets and ice creams. What could be bad about that? A rum vanilla ice cream, a cassis sorbet, a coffee ice cream and a tangy frozen yogurt.

We also ordered a very French, very delicate version of…basically blintzes, filled with white chocolate and candied (but not overdone) pineapple served with the same Rum vanilla ice cream. It was marvelous, but not sickeningly so.

THEN they brought out a heavy board of little treats – madeleines, sponge cakes, jellied fruit thingies (which I detest, but they didn’t know that) and a chilled glass with 2 gorgeous caramel filled truffles.

It was too good. The service was super, of course, and the atmosphere was very French, even though early in the evening there were a bunch of furr-rurr-ners (like us). Ah, it was a lovely au revoir to Paris.

Excellent Snack...The Wine Was A Different Story

A and I (okay, it wasn't really A) needed a little pick-me-up one morning. A patisserie window beckoned to me and drew me closer. What was it saying? Have ME! No, ME! Mon Dieu! Which way to go? What to have?

Tuiles?

Meringues?

Meringues or Tuiles? What a dilemma. The Tuiles would have been a bit neater to eat, but I went for the meringues and what a good choice!

They were crispy, even crusty, on the outside. They were flecked with almonds and had a chewy inside. And they tasted so toasty that you might have thought they were made with brown sugar, but I was pretty sure that was from the almonds. Excellent addition. They were simply the best meringues I have ever had.

Now that my sugar needs were out of the way, we could continue our unending quest to find museums that no one had ever heard of...much less ever visited, even if they had. A and I set off for the Musée du Vin, in order to discover the origins of this ancient libation.

We walked down the Rue Passy, in the 16th and down a few other streets and finally found this little stair-welled alley that went down and down and down. It was a really long stairway, in case I wasn't clear.



a REALLY long stairway.

This was it from the bottom.


And then we found it!



It WAS an attractive building.

This is where the folks next door live.



After buying our tickets and trying the audiotour that used mammoth-sized 20th century headphones that didn't work, we entered the museum by way of a dark cave-like tunnel. The displays were all old and dusty and, unfortunately, in incomprehensible French. I guess the minutiae of the history of wine-making has a very specific technical language all its own. 

We did find out that various saints protect the vineyards. Each saint has his own special time to watch over the grapes..



But, oh well, to the short history lesson. At least there was a complimentary wine tasting afterwards. Never mind that it was 10 in the morning. We were psyched! Actually, A really couldn't stomach any wine at that hour, but I forced her to have some.

These were the wines we tasted. Stay away from them.


À tout à l'heure!

Le Bistrot de Marius

No Empty Chairs At Empty Tables Here

H was working late (I’d had a hard day too) and so we didn’t set off for dinner with a colleague of his until late, about 9:30. We wandered around the neighborhood (Alma Marceau) and after too long a wait at one place, we strolled into the Bistrot de Marius (6, av George V, Paris, 75008).

We got the last table right by the drafty door. But they brought a giant wall-sized chalkboard with the day’s menu and placed it squarely in front of the table, so it blocked out the cold night air.

I started with the Soupe de Poisson, which was wonderful, although it was way too large a serving.

Afterwards, I read elsewhere that it contained the pounded shells of lobster and I assume from the full-bodied flavor that that was true. The best part were the little bits and pieces that came with it: Rouille, which I absolutely love and I admit I haven’t had or served for probably 15 years; grated cheese and wonderful croûtes.

H had the oysters served as per usual with a vinegar sauce and good thin slices of brown bread. S, his business associate, started with the Petites Fritures d’Eperlans (little fried smelts) served with a tartar sauce.

I didn’t do my usual reaching over and tasting from everyone’s plate, but we were all very satisfied.

H and S had the Daurade grise de ligne en croûte de sel (sea bream cooked in a crust of salt). I first encountered this dish 20 years ago in Madrid at a restaurant named appropriately enough, La Dorada.

Marius didn’t have quite the same magnificent presentation as La Dorada, where they bring out the entire fish and then take it away and filet it. Here they skin it and leave a bit of salt around and you have to perform the filleting yourself (not a difficult enterprise).

I had one of the specials - Grilled Salmon. The skin was crispy and charred with perfect crosshatching and the fish was nicely moist.

We had one crème brûlée between us. It was good and just enough.

We had a casual comfortable evening, with impeccably fresh seafood. Le Bistrot de Marius’ sister restaurant, Marius Et Janette is just next door and much higher priced. This one was just fine.

Paris - Perfume, Pink Champagne And Perfect Hot Chocolate

Forgive my absence, but it’s hard work trolling the streets of Paris in search of food, culture and ways NOT to spend the increasingly expensive Euros.

Too much to tell, not enough time.

I had a low key itinerary planned. I HAVE been in Paris when I’ve scheduled every single second, including a fourth museum of the day, in case 1, 2 or 3 didn’t work out. (That DOES take planning, especially on Mondays and Tuesday when most museums are closed.)

A, my great friend and best excuse for visiting Paris, is moving and so this trip was our last hurrah. We decided to do what we do best – wandering the streets, making a few planned stops and dilly-dallying, usually with rewarding results.

We had a quick coffee and went off to visit the The Fragonard Perfume Museum.

It was in a beautiful 150 year old building. I had hoped to learn the history of perfume making, but, unfortunately, we got there seconds after a HUGE tour from Eastern Europe(?) arrived and we had to hasten to get through the few rooms. Their website, though, is very instructive… 

Somehow the crowds didn’t stop me from purchasing a few items…

Next we were off to Fauchon, where we had intended to just check out the teas and confitures. I saw an amazing bottle of Framboise Vinegar Syrup, that I was quite excited about. The shop assistant heard us speaking English and, in the snottiest way possible, told us it was for decorating plates. The worst part about her highfalutin’ attitude was that SHE WAS AN AMERICAN. I actually remembered her from previous visits.

Unfortunately for Fauchon’s bottom line, I refused to buy anything from her, so THERE! (I headed over to Hediard later to buy fabulous Passionfruit and Guava Vinegars from a really cute and NICE guy.)



The Fauchon tea room had been closed for some time, so A was happy to see it newly renovated and reopened, so, pourquoi non?, we decided it was lunchtime. Happily, it was empty at 12:30 (and curiously remained so).

We chose a table overlooking the Madeleine and perused the menu while sipping our pink champagne. The setting in glossy silver and pink with black accents was perfect. The fine-boned, pink and black attired waiters attended to us beautifully. 


We split a croque monsieur, which was actually in the style of a panini - very different from others I've had, delicious though, and an artichoke and spinach salad. Very delightful. We had one chocolate meringue tart between us, which was as good as it looked.



After dejeuner, we ambled for a while and stopped in at a favorite shop of A's, La Vaisselerie, a dish and kitchen trinket shop on the rue Saint-Honoré, where I had previously bought a wonderful tomato knife that had the word Tomate cut out on the blade. This time I bought a few hors d'oeuvres knives and 2 adorable paring knives - one lime green and one purple. Really cute.

After more strolling, the weather turned on us and we decided another stop was necessary, so we ran to Angelina (226, rue de Rivoli, 75001 Paris) - with the help of the metro - for a cup of their famous hot chocolate, L’Africain. It’s reminiscent of Spanish chocolate that’s served with churros, although not quite as pudding-thick, but perhaps even sweeter. It comes in a pot and is served with a bowl with fabulous unsweetened (thank goodness) whipped cream. The cafe itself is also charming with many Belle Époque features.

As beautiful as the cream was, I actually picked it off my chocolate and drank it au nature. After many glasses of water to cut the sweetness, out we went into the Paris late afternoon - A to do more packing and I to get ready for my next meal.

Pinxo in Paris

The other night, we had dinner at Pinxo, a modern little restaurant near the Louvre. They serve everything tapas style or in individual little portions for each dish. They usually come in threes, but there were 4 of us, so they upped it.


The soup, which I initially resisted ordering as sounding boring, was delightful. Very fragrant and chock full of vegetables and tender large prawns.




The pumpkin cappuccinos were rich with the local pumpkin carrying the rich taste of chestnuts, topped with a delicious foam.

Other starters:

Notable entrées: The irresistable shrimp with coconut milk rice and meaty tuna with Belgian endive, which was cooked soft and twisted around the base of the fish.

The portions were large (especially for Paris) so we split 2 desserts, which was way more than enough.

The crépes were not what I was expecting but they were refreshing, while managing to pack a calorie laden punch.



The Tiramisu were beautiful and delicious - a real winner.




Pinxo
9, rue d’Alger
Paris 75001 France
Telephone: 01.40.20.72.00