simon says french food blog

NEGOCIATING IMPERFECTION

Paris,

By Joe Ray 

Why do I keep coming back to this place? Beautiful and flawed, Aux Negociants is still one of those places (like Au Reve across the street) that’s the perfect place to come when you get off the plane for a fast dose of Parisian Paris.

One of the most glaring idiosyncrasies is the chef. What’s he doing in the front of the house at suppertime? Shouldn’t he be out back cooking our dinners?

Instead, he seems to have come up with a menu that allows him to spend most of the service time at dinner out at the bar shooting the breeze with his pétanque buddies or time to get mad at me for sending the wine back.

There’s stuffed cabbage, saucisse de Montbeliard, confît de canard - all stuff that you either make ahead of time and/or just heat up… I can’t tell if I’m miffed that he isn’t out back doting on my food or impressed at the preparation that goes into it.

In any case, the food’s good and there’s the friendly crowd, good wine and that funny feeling that I want to come back again.

Aux Negociants 27 rue Lambert +33.1.46.06.15.11 Map

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.

Le Baratin, a must

Paris,

By François Simon

Frankly, I’m not sure it’s the best idea to share this one with you. 

A former wine bar that’s become one of the go-to places for Parisian “bistronomie,” this place is quite simply one of my favorites in Paris.  The cuisine of Raquel (a self-taught Argentine who’s been slinging hash for 20 years) is marked by a biblical simplicity, insolent in its goodness, naked and scrumptious.
Strangely, all the gourmands of Paris come here, including some of the biggest names in French gastronomy, to dine on the braised ox tail with citrus fruits, the cod and shrimp stew with saffron, the marinated sardines, desserts to die for, excellent wines by the glass selected by an enthusiast associated with the restaurant.  Among those places for the truly food-crazed, Baratin finishes in the top three.  Unbeatable.
But be careful; make sure you go prepared for a lively atmosphere and the decibel level that goes with it.   
Le Baratin. 3, rue Jouye-Rouve, 20th arrondissement. Tél. : 01 43 49 39 70. Every day except Saturday for lunch, Sunday and Monday.  Prix fixe: 15 eur (lunch) Menu : 35-40 euros. Map

Photo/dr

SENDING THE WINE BACK

Paris,

By Joe Ray

One of the most intimidating things to do in a Parisian restaurant is to send back a bottle of wine.

It’s a shaky gamble; unless the thing just stinks like a bottle of wet newspaper, it could just be that you’re tasting a wine that’s just not that great. Your nose could be lying. Who knows?

We ordered a bottle of Anjou the other night at Aux Negociants – which proclaims itself a ‘bistrot a vins.’ “Wine” is their middle name… or something like that.

The chef, who often serves as a waiter, plunked the bottle down and walked away before we could taste it.

Sniff, sniff.

To my nose, it alternates between smelling like a fair-to-middlin’ wine and something worse.

Sip.

It tastes like fair-to-middlin’ wine and something worse.

‘The chef is going to have a field day with me if I’m wrong,’ I think, followed closely by, ‘I don’t feel like paying 20 euros for this crap.’

“Is this what this should taste like?” I ask Chef, trying to be polite while getting my point across.

He grabs the bottle, grunts and walks it back behind the bar where his wife (?) runs the show. She pours a bit in a glass, sniffs, and the only word I catch in her aside to the chef is “bouchonné” (“skunked”) as she dumps it. She dispatches chef with a new bottle and clean glasses that he wordlessly plunks on the table.

Sniff.

Next to the old one, it smells like a bouquet of flowers.

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.

Le Paul Bert, vibrancy in your plate

One of my favorite places.  A place for lovers of fine food, bold, with a wine list that's eye-popping. 

At Paul Bert, meat is served extremely rare, rare or…. badly cooked. Humor is part of this cuisine, cuisine that’s worthy of a great restaurant, but it stays simple.  The dishes are vibrant, with plenty of energy, like those scallops served in a buttery jus.

They’re firm, sweet, and served in their salty element.  I remember a Paris-Brest that was just perfect, the crust just as it should be.  They approach perfection here in terms of the quality of their products.

The ambiance is Parisian, the clientele is happy to be there – and so, a bit noisy – you’re going to love it.  Ask to be seated in the first room.  And count on at least 50 euros.

Le Paul Bert. 18, rue Paul Bert. Tel 01.43.72.24.01). Closed Sunday and Monday. Map

Photo : 3MyR

SARDINES OVER ROYALTY

Paris,

By Joe Ray 

I’ve been lucky enough to go to the Bistrot Paul Bert twice in the past month or so. Simon Says’ namesake and I have a fondness for this place to the point where it’s surprising we haven’t bumped into each other.

Truth be told, the last couple of times have been… ok. Perhaps both the chef and I have been a bit too game for game. I had a partridge dish which I liked principally because it had some buckshot in it and lievre à la royale (hare with foie gras and a deep-colored wine sauce) that left me, if we call a spade a spade, with a lot of connective tissue on my plate.

BUT! There have been plenty of reminders why I love this place: particularly a heaping dish of tiny, fried sardines which must have taken advantage of the P-B’s husband and wife team which also runs the neighboring seafood specialist, L’Ecallier du Bistrot. The only way to win with a dish like this is to hit it out of the park; nothing leaves a worse impression than bad fish.

I love a place that’s got the confidence in itself and its customers to serve a ‘low’ fish… which is why I’ll keep going back.

Bistrot Paul Bert 18, rue Paul Bert 75011 Paris Tel : 33.1.43.72.24.01
Noon-2 p.m. and 7:30 p.m.-11 p.m. Closed Sunday and Monday Map

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting

Photo : JoeRay

Puits du Trésor, go with your eyes closed

Lastour,

By François Simon

A chef who, out of the blue, talks to you about the « truth of the products » on his menu is pretty cheeky.  That’s precisely the kind of thing Jean Marc Boyer of Puits du Trésor says.  When he proposes a hare with porcini mushrooms, there’s nothing else in the plate.  The mushrooms had been picked that morning (a raw mushroom gill reveals all the tenderness of dawn), and the hare must have been scampering about not long before in the Provencal shrubland.  A celery purée accompanies them. And then : lobster fricassee with crispy pasta, fried frogs legs, rack of lamb…

That evening, at the far end of the Aude countryside, we were overcome by an irresistible feeling of happiness just being in that dining room, surrounded by regional wines (wonderful and bold), and happy locals.  You can prolong the pleasure by getting a room in a bed and breakfast just a short distance away – the estate of La Villatade – amidst countryside overwhelming in its beauty.  Bright rooms of boundless tranquility from 60 euros.  The next morning, you’ll almost be promising yourself to change your life. Château La Villatade, à Sallèles-Cabardès (04 68 77 57 51).

Le Puits du Trésor, à Lastours Tel : +33 4 64 77 50 24. Menus from 39 euros. Map Web

The Butter Thief

By Joe Ray

Normally, I’m a salted butter man. The other night, however, I made an exception at a birthday party held at Nono in Belleville. I arrived when dinner was about to be cleared away, but immediately noticed bowls of little wax paper-wrapped butter packets marked with the word ‘cru’ – literally, ‘raw’ or, in this case, unpasteurized.

Without even checking to see if the coast was clear, I grabbed a handful and plunged them into my large coat pocket normally reserved for recently-downed game birds. All in the name of science, of course.

Curiously, I’d been making my way through a set of articles about butter in an old copy Saveur magazine, secure in the idea that though it all sounded good, I’d forever be a devotee to beurre demi-sel – tasty butter with big flecks of salt that go ‘bing!’ in your mouth like Pop Rocks.

At the end of my third piece of toast this morning, the coffee kicked in and the butter – sans sel – let me know what I had been missing. For you, gentle reader, I made more toast.

The butter, still unmelted, starts as cool comfort, curious as it’s exactly freezing in Paris this morning. I feel it melt and coat my tongue and the toast’s heat releases its creamy flavors and promotes a gentle sweetness that lingers so long, a wine would blush with embarrassment.

Note: the picture above is the last butter packet that I haven’t devoured – I just noticed this one is both raw and salted. I might explode.

Nono : 43, rue de Tourtille  75020 PARIS +33 1 43 49 37 79 Map

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.

The Voltaire – the cup overfloweth

Paris,

By François Simon

What’s incredible about this place is the price of the devilled eggs. Eighty cents - whereas in the rest of the menu the prices club you over the head.   The reason is simple – the adherence of the Voltaire to immutable prices.  Some time ago the price was 5 francs and some dust.  The prices are never adjusted.  A kind of amused, contemptuous elegance.

Nevertheless, the egg doesn’t come crumbled with a half-leaf of lettuce.  Rather, it’s a veritable Opéra Bouffe, with salad, de-leaved vegetables, the egg of course (well done), with the spread slathered over it – disarming generosity. 

Which is what characterizes the Voltaire.  Now, logically, one doesn’t order desert at the Voltaire.  The portions here aren’t for squirrels, but for butchers.  But, of course, our investigation had to be as thorough as possible.  The result was predictable – the chocolate profiteroles (17.50 euros – bam!) fell on us like a ton of bricks.

Le Voltaire, 27, quai Voltaire, 75007 Paris. Tel : +33 1 42 61 17 Map

(Photo F.Simon)

JUST LEAVE THE NUT OUT

Paris,

By Joe Ray

A restaurant is always doing well if a mother and son dining in their premises feel comfortable enough to have a conversation about French infidelity habits. This happens to Mom and I at La Table De Claire, a place I’ve been curious about for months, thanks to its obscure location, curious wife chef-swapping habits and deceptively simple-sounding menu.

Hidden away on rue Emile-Lepeu in the 11th, the restaurant has a growing reputation for bringing guest chefs in once a month and giving them carte blanche to do what they will along with giving the sous chef free reign two nights a week (note to struggling restaurant owners: great way to keep local clients interested!).

Product quality is the guide here, yielding short and occasionally cute dish names; La Table’s magic is getting the flavors to marry. “Fish, scales and rocket” uses thin potato ‘scales’ to surround the fish and gently absorb its sea and salty goodness. Beet and walnut risotto is something that would keep you coming back to a lover who cooked it. A rutabaga and foie gras appetizer sounds a bit gimmicky, but the tuber, sliced in rounds and lightly sautéed soaks up everything that’s good about goose liver.

The only problem is the rocket, sitting as a simple salad next to mom’s fish.

“Tastes like every dandelion I’ve ever picked in my life,” says the gardener, voicing a distaste for the greens I haven’t inherited as she nibbles on a frond.

“Damn things…” she mutters.

“More for me,” I say, taking advantage of her distracted state to swap plates with her.

Somewhere in there, we have a bottle of white, Claire’s list augmented by a revolving selection on blackboards with clever red or white frames. Mirroring the dining menu’s gracious restraint, no bottle appears to climb above 30€.

Aided by the latter, I explain to Mom the cinq à sept – the delicately named “five to seven” or post-work time reserved for affairs.

Me: From there, there’s an apéro and after that, dinner.

Mom: And that’s every night?

Me: If they’re doing well

For dessert, mom orders a near-perfect crème brulée with a beautiful chestnut confît bulging above the surface in the center. For reasons I struggle to understand, Mom doesn’t like the nut but loves everything around it.

Me: This is worth coming back for.

Mom: Just leave the nut out.

La Table de Claire : 30, rue Emile-Lepeu 75011 Paris [email protected]
TEL : +33.1.43.70.59.84  Closed Sunday

Web Map

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.

Mère Brazier is back

Lyon,

By François Simon

At 7:30, there wasn’t much of a crowd.  Mère Brazier in Lyon. Sounds like the name of a hip-hip group – it just happens to be a culinary legend.  Taken over by Mathieu Vianney, the place looks terrific with all of the art-deco ceramics restored.  As for the food, it wouldn’t be too much to say it’s impeccable: a pâté en croûte (with a crust), Bresse poultry and lobster, a thin chicory tart…It was delicious, uncomplicated.

At 9 o’clock I was on the train home, relieved to have rediscovered an old haunt that hadn’t moved.  Highly recommended for those who enjoyed old-fashioned pleasures and experiences (the best kinds!). 
12, rue Royale (04.78.23.17.20). Menus from 45 euros. A la carte figure on 100 euros. Map

HOLDING CANDLES TO CABBAGE

Paris,

By Joe Ray

I want Stéphane Chevassus to cook all of my vegetables.

This is my first impression when I taste his braised cabbage with butter that held my fish aloft at Au Vieux Chêne. If a chef can knock your socks of with plat du jour cabbage, he’s got my vote. Plus, I Tried It At Home and though it was tasty, I couldn’t hold a candle to Chevassus’ cabbage.

I checked in again recently with mom and everything was up to snuff – a light but creamy pumpkin velouté, fish dishes done just right, little chocolate pastilles (white, milk and dark) served with coffee. Prix fixe lunch for 14€ and cabbage from heaven.

Au Vieux Chêne - Map 7, rue Dahomey 75011 Paris  TEL : +33.1.43.71.67.69
Closed Saturday & Sunday

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting.

Le Jeu de Quilles, darn good

Paris,

By François Simon

Here’s one place that shouldn’t be left to the dogs.

Le Jeu de Quilles proposes cuisine that doesn’t make a make a spectacle of itself.    Three or four tables that can accommodate about 20 clients, two nice waiters that serve unpretentious food characterized by abundance and quality (meats from neighbor Hugo Desnoyer!).
And the wines are chosen with care. 

At Jeu de Quilles you’ll discover new textures and flavors, and when you leave you’re sure to be in a good mood. And the price is absolutely fair.  I left a 10 euro tip I was so happy!  My verdict:  one of the best places in Paris at the moment.

Le Jeu de Quilles : 45, rue Boulard, 75014. Tel : +33 1 53 90 76 22, Métro Mouton Duvernet. Map

(photo F.Simon)

Barcelona: 1, Paris: 0

By Joe Ray

Same story better end.

Caffé Moro, take note; this is how to create repeat customers...

With my favorite Barcelona café closed for the day and looking for a new place to work, I found the new Sifó Xico in my old neighborhood of Poble Sec.

Instead of giving me lip and a lecture when I asked for a glass of water with my coffee, the bartender poured a glass, looked at it for a second, pitched it in the sink (Barcelona’s tap water can be nasty) and gave me a bottle of water. Free of charge.

I’ll be back.

Sifó Xico C/Roser Barcelona www.sifo.es  Map    Tel : +34.663.762.035

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting

SAVING GRACE

Versailles,

By Joe Ray

I may be a knight, but nobody bothered to tell me that the king’s garden closes in November.

I will remember this the next time I want to bring my mother, an award-winning gardener, to Versailles.

The Potager du Roi – a garden designed for Louis XIV so the Sun King would have fresh vegetables – closes for the winter on November 1. Oops.

Hungry – which, in this case rhymes particularly well with angry – and needing to win back a few points, I couldn’t take bringing Mom to one of those restaurants that ring the chateau’s entrance advertising ten kinds of pizza on a Plexiglas sign.

I ask a the gardener who’s very gently told us we won’t be getting in (and even if we did, our feet would get muddy), who sends us across town to l’aparthé, a restaurant and tea room tucked away next to the Notre Dame church.

Pulling aside the big velour curtain that kept the cold, wet day outside we were greeted with the buzz of French locals.

We split a ‘five vegetable’ soup, a beet and mozzarella salad and a big salad with lardons, potatoes, Roquefort, apples and sun-dried tomatoes put to surprisingly good use.

There’s a solid wine selection, twenty teas (Mariage Frères, bien sûr) and coffee comes with a Carambar candy.

“C’est une bonne adresse,” confirmed a local woman who later sat next to us with her family, probably wondering how we lucked into finding the place.

They’re not reinventing the wheel, but finding a place you’d like to have around the corner from your apartment when your primary concern is just getting something good is a real treat.

Lunch for two and peace of mind for 37 euros.

L’aparthé, 1bis rue Ste Genevieve Versailles 78000. France  +33.1.30.21.26.57 Map   

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting

SIR JOE?

By Joe Ray

Blame it on sloth or modesty, but I haven’t done much in the self-promo department lately.

Credit a bump in motivation or a lack of scruples for rectifying that problem posthaste.

First and most exciting, I’m a knight! Technically, I’m a young knight of the Confraria del Cava – the brotherhood of Cava, Catalonia’s sparkling wine – thanks to a series of articles that I wrote about the bubbly a few years back.

On October 11, in Sant Sadurní d'Anoia, Spain, I donned a heavy green cape, made an oath in Catalan(!) pledging my allegiance to Cava, chugged a glass, was tapped with a sword on each shoulder and officially became a knight. I was one of six knights of merit (the Spanish Olympic men’s field hockey team was sworn in as knights of honor), and as far as I could tell, the only foreigner in the room and one of the first non-Catalans in the Confraria’s history to be inducted. Quite flattering.

Earlier this month, I was ask to host a round table discussion at the American Library in Paris around the theme ‘Is French Cuisine Worthy of UNESCO Heritage Status.’ We had fantastic panelists - Clotilde Dusoulier, author of 'Chocolate & Zucchini,' and 'Clotilde's Edible Adventures in Paris,' (and former interviewee of mine!), Charlotte Puckette and Olivia Kiang-Snaije, co-authors of 'The Ethnic Paris Cookbook,' and, to spice things up a little, Catalan journalist and sommelier and author of the blog Wines and The City, Meritxell Falgueras. Great subject, perfect panelists and a full house!

Finally, I’ve made a huge update to my Web site, adding published stories and photos from South America, Sicily, Scotland and Paris – feel free to check them out at www.joe-ray.com. Please send me an email HERE if you’d like to be placed on the mailing list that goes out when a group of new stories go online.

More to come…

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting

TWO HANDS ON THE CANS

Lisbon,

By Joe Ray

Barcelona’s canned goods quality fanatic Quim Perez should know about this place.

I find the Lisbon landmark, the Conserveira de Lisboa (The Lisbon Cannery) - famous for their Tricana line of high-end canned seafood, completely by accident.

After I pay for a few tins, cannery owner Regina Ferreria walks out of the back room. She asks me what I’ve found, grimaces and walks to the side wall of her tiny, picturesque shop and pulls down a 125 gram tin of ovas de sardinha – sardine eggs. She uses both of her hands to place her gift into mine.

"Open them gently. Place them on a plate. Place them on bread – not toast – so the olive oil gets soaked up," she says. "No forks! It bothers them - use a spatula. Serve these to your sweetie with vinho verde."

I need to stop traveling alone.

Conserveira de Lisboa - Map
Rua dos Bacalhoeiros, 34
Lisbon
+351.218.871.058

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting

the tranquility of Laurence Salomon

Annecy,

By François Simon

This financial crisis – nothing could be worse for restaurants.  They’re always the first to suffer the effects.  As a result, to speak frankly, things change a bit for someone in my line of work.  That’s not to say we bury the hatchet and put away our claws, but there’s nothing worse than kicking someone when they’re down.  So a kind of goodwill gets established at times like these.  And it’s not unpleasant that things are bit sugar-coated.  The timing was perfect, in fact, this past Saturday night, as I was all alone at Annecy with a fantastic novel (Teru Miyamoto’s Les Gens de la Rue des Reves).  Which is to say I was the happiest man in the world.   Whirling about in my plate was a carousel of flavors (azuki beans, Hokkaido squash, roasted squash seeds, baby lettuce, quinoas, a bed of spinach, tofu puree with herbs…). Healthy and balanced food, wholesome and salutary.  Sometimes, it’s not the most appetizing, like the spaghetti with beats.  But that’s alright because the wise and virtuous clientele has at all times the feeling that they’re being indulged.   
Sometimes it doesn’t matter if a restaurant is excellent and produces perfect flavors, we just need to know that it’s headed in the right direction, even if sometimes it dawdles along the way, gets off the right path, makes a mistake or two.  What’s important for us is to hear it humming.
Nature & Saveur, Laurence Salomon, open for lunch Tuesday to Saturday, and Saturday night for dinner with a single-choice menu.  Place des Cordeleirs, 74000 Annecy. Tel : 04.50.45.82.29  Reasonably priced wine list.  Around 49 euros for the Saturday menu.  Web    Map

Photo F.Simon

Lisbon’s Locavores

Lisbon,

By Joe Ray

After a few blissful days in Lisbon, a local friend who lives in NYC and is back visiting her hometown takes her brother and me out to the Moinho de Baixo (a.k.a. “Meco”) beach about 40 minutes outside of town. It’s a perfect break from the city: beaches and dunes, breaking turquoise waves and not a tourist in sight. It’s amazing to think that it’s this easy to get out of town.

Once the sun goes down, we head to the Bar do Peixe, have a seat and dig in. Dinner starts with Azeitao cheese, the main course is half of a grilled Robalo (tasty snook) caught by the owner’s fisherman husband and we drink a white from the Setubal Peninsula – everything comes from less than 40 minutes away.

“The fish comes from there,” says the owner, eyeing the horizon. Cut in half lengthwise, grilled and drizzled with olive oil, it’s a lesson in simplicity.

“When I come home,” says my friend, “this is what I want.”

Bar do Peixe
Rua Praia do Moinho de Baixo
Near the town of Alfarim, Portugal
+351.21.684.732

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting

SOMETIMES, IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS

Paris,

By Joe Ray

Today, after a hot chocolate and a decent espresso (a sad rarity in this town) at Caffè Moro, I was refused a glass of water larger than the thimble-sized one I received.

“You can come back three, four, five times if you like,” said the waitress, noting the café’s absence of table service.

“It’s a style,” chimed in a loud and grouchy woman who had been bossing the staff around for the previous half-hour while floating in and out of the back room, yet claimed not to be the boss.

I stared at them in disbelief, at a loss to think of a more annoying or petty ‘style’ to lose customers.

“If you want, you can buy an Evian,” added the waitress.

Please. If somebody’s going to plunk the better part of ten euros down in a half-empty café and ask for a glass of water that’s larger than their thumb, have the good sense to give them a carafe or fill up a bigger glass and not give them any lip.

Caffè Moro 31, rue de Charonne  75011 Paris  +33.1.43.14.06.39

Food and travel writer and photographer Joe Ray is the author of the blog Eating The Motherland and contributes to The Boston Globe's travel blog, Globe-trotting

The frog's house

Montreuil-sur-Mer,

By François Simon

A restaurant must be experienced through the nose.  You have to let it come to you, like one does when river fishing. There is a river – the Canche - that follows a course through alder trees on its way to the ocean.  It meanders through night mists.  There isn’t a sound. Earlier today, at the Genouillère, we could hear only the humming ventilation from the kitchen and the clinking of utensils.  This is one of those bucolic little places that seem to come from another time, as though gliding through a dream.  Sometimes, it materializes near Montreuil-sur-mer where you climb aboard and set sail in its sepia-toned cinema.

In the first dining room (the one on the right), the batrachian (ie. frog) occupies the place of honor, adorning the walls in a variety of splendid poses. We see him wearing a tailcoat and cavorting with a lady, gulping down champagne, appraising the maitre d’hotel.  Tonight, nothing seems to have changed – that same honey-toned lighting, the service that attends to all the little things, the clients a bit taken aback by it all.    It’s a restaurant as we always want it to be.  You arrived in the late afternoon, you’d reserved one of the four little rooms long ago. You’ve put on a nice suit to respect the decorum of the restaurant; it also stimulates the appetite.

The story of la Grenouillère is the story of a father and son.  Roland Gautier passed the torch to his son, Alexandre.  But Roland still stops by now and again, like this evening, to welcome the diners.  He is meticulous, with a kindness that is ever-ready.   He must sometimes purse his lips as he watches his son’s dishes pass by.  Because you’ve got to be pretty confident to offer portions as small as the pigeon de Licques, barely elevated by a bed of beats and red currants.  In the upper corner of the plate, on the left, expressly off-center, are two fowl salami.  And that’s it, just a checkerboard pattern of Vassarelli in the center of the plate, and there you are in front of this new kind of cuisine, marked by the excellence of the product (as for the generosity, it leaves much to be desired). 

Previously, the frogs came twisted and intertwined with a purée of garlic and parsley.  Upon hearing this description, my editor, who is moreover accustomed to such aspects of gastronomy, felt a pang of sympathy for the poor legs exhibited in such a way.  Well, sure, but did she think about all those poor frogs that all became legless cripples in the service of our cuisine? Following all this was a bold dessert with a base of strawberries and ginger  (in a naked rectangle straddling the crème and reddening it).

It was all perfect, and all the more so for the morning train having a few little difficulties.  You could feel there was something off when we made turns.  And then it completely stopped.  A bit too abruptly – you could hear in the conductor’s voice that he was remorseful.    The train slowed, and then we were gliding along in silence.  It was wonderful, because the sun was just rising.  There was a mist all about, and horses in the flat countryside.  We would have applauded, but the eight people in the car were sleeping like babies.  The train finally got going again, seemingly regretfully, and thankfully it went quite slowly for a time. 

La Grenouillière, la Madelaine-sous-Montreuil 03 21 06 07 22. Four rooms from 80 euros, menus from 39 euros.

Web  Map  Photo F.Simon