Paris Restaurants

One of the things that you need to have when shopping for food in France is a big, sturdy shopping basket. You Also need to have a bit of patience because the lines can be long, and lines in Paris are like airplane restrooms; when it’s your turn, everyone behind you disappears and suddenly, you seem to have all the time in the world. But more important in Paris than having a big pannier, and an even bigger bladder (to hold it, because few markets have a place to, uh, “go”), is that you also need to have plenty of change. France and America have a curious relationship. Each is fascinated with each other and both have a camaraderie that’s built on admiration, a little of frustration, and a soupçon of envy. For every American that rattles on about “free health care” (no matter that it’s not free, it’s paid for by – or from – a percentage of your earnings) there is a French person exclaiming how much they would love to live in New York City because of l’energie. (No matter that if you walked right into someone as if they weren’t there, as happens in Paris, they’d get a real “New York Experience” from a real New Yorker.) Continue Reading Change...

                  Perbacco is a restaurant Colette and I had "tested" and it has a private space on the 2nd floor somewhat suitable for private parties, which in this case meant I could hold an Editorial Board meeting there - I thought.  The problem was that at its peak at lunch the noise from downstairs drowned out the upstairs' discussion.                   We all started offwith a green salad with parmesan slices; then I chose the sole with capers and raisins over the chicken breast and both were pedestrian; and we ended with a nice strawberry-rhubarb and creme fraiche dessert. My publisher picked up the check so I have no idea of its magnitude. Go again? Not for a meeting, but personal lunch sure. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Zuni Cafe is a place we haven't been in eons and where when our local hosts whom I frequently eat with in Paris suggested it, I jumped.  It remains nice, clean, contemporary, and reliable.                 We all started with various salads (Caesar for me and rabbit and mesclun for the others [all unpictured]); then Colette and I had incredibly great quail while our hosts had salmon and halibut.  We all then sort of shared an ice cream dessert which was superior. With a bottle of Dehlinger Pinot Noir graciously brought in from their cellar ($20 corkage), another of Chardonnay and a glass of Cabernet Franc, one tea and no botled water our check came to $133.75 per couple before tip. Go?  For the quail alone it's worth it.

Often there's no faster route to high spirits than a sudden surge of spontaneity and a good dose of extravagance (deeply considered penuriousness somehow just never seems to work). So on a gloomy Saturday morning, Bruno and I set out on a gastronomic expedition that I was certain would raise our weather-dampened spirits. We were heading to the new butcher shop that Hugo Desnoyer had opened in such a remote and very quiet corner of the remote and very quiet 16th arrondissement that it barely seemed like Paris when we got there. Or at least the Paris I know, but then everyone inhabits the same city differently. Almost from the moment I arrived here in 1986, I developed an indifference shading to aversion to the 8th and 16th arrondissements, which have always struck me, with the exception of certain small neighborhoods, as epitomizing a certain bourgeois smugness. And since none of my friends live in this part of the city and most of them feel the same way that I do, I very rarely find myself in these western arrondissements. Still, there's some handsome architecture deep in the 16th, and it's also very green. And at this time of year, rain-filled lilacs are tumbling over wrought iron fences, and you catch a glimpse of an occasional bank of peonies on a private garden here or there. (Oh, how lovely it would be to have a private garden in the city! But failing that, I'm awfully glad to have the Jardins de Luxembourg). In any event, Monsieur Desnoyer's new butcher shop turned out to be neat as a pin, and the staff just as polite and helpful as they are at Tiffany's---if you find other similarities between these two businesses, you're not wrong either. But our destination was the solid butcher block table d'hotes on a raised platform in a corner of the this immaculate white space. What we'd decided, you see, was to take ourselves out for a carnivore's feast, something Desnoyer only previously offered in a do-it-yourself version. So we settled in at the table, and decided to share the faux-filet for two with a very good bottle of Haute Cotes de Beaune. No sooner than we'd ordered than the handsome and courtly Monsieur Desnoyer arrived with a complimentary plate of charcuterie, not because he knows me from a hole in the ground, but rather because with the opening of this new address, the butcher's shop where he began his career as an apprentice many years ago and is now the boss, he's celebrating his good fortune and hard work by sharing. Not only was it a generous and charming gesture, but it reminded me of why he's my favorite Paris butcher. In the suddenly testosterone jumped up big bad ego world of star butchers in Paris, Desnoyer is the quiet man who gets on with his craft and who's real pleasure is in selling people the very best meat he can possibly find. There were three other people sitting at the table, and if we were reciprocally polite, there was no conversation with our neighbors occurred until a kindly and very familiar looking man and an Asian friend sat down at the table, and I racked my brains trying to figure out why I knew him. When our meat arrived and we grinned, he wished us a "Bon appetite!," and we fell into conversation. He told us he owned a a little restaurant on the Left Bank, a steakhouse, and I suddenly recognized William Bernet, the owner of the wonderful Le Severo in the rue des Plantes. Mais bien sur! He'd come along for lunch to support his star supplier, and because these two gents are really good friends beyond anything having to do with commerce. So then he ordered a really good bottle of Burgundy, and insisted we try it, and the table suddenly became very jolly as a previously shy crew recognized one another as lovers of la bonne chère (and chaire). Just as our meat arrived--a sublime and perfectly cooked piece of Limousin beef so big we took half of it home and ate it for the next three days (here, parsimony is much advised as the basis for real de

Following in the footsteps of Septime, and (once-upon a time) Spring, the hard-to-book Paris restaurant Le Chateaubriand has acquired a space for an eventual wine shop between the restaurant and its sister wine bar Le Dauphin. Word on the street is that it will focus on interesting imports. No [...]

Here's a video of Chicago-born expat chef Daniel Rose talking to interviewer Charlie Rose on his eponymous PBS show about opening Spring in Paris, France. He starts off discussing how he got to Paris in the first place—he originally arrived to finish university, only deciding to attend cooking school as a way to stay in the city. "I stayed in France because there was this opportunity to be nourished by all these new things I was learning. Whether it was language, or culture." The Roses discuss the beauty and "certain clarity" of a great dining experience, "...it opens up the rest of the evening for other things: for falling in love, for having a conversation, for enjoying a restaurant, and for feeling alive" and learning French from scratch: "When I landed in Paris [for the first time] I spoke no French, and every moment that I tried to speak was frought with intense anxiety." On the the difficulties behind opening the first Spring: In 2006, ... no one had opened up a tiny little restaurant ... with no service and sometimes no heat. In the winter it was impossible, people were freezing. I moved restaurants because one day someone said, 'I'd like a coffee.' And I was busy answering the telephone and cooking at the same time, and they realized that it just wasn't going to to possible for me to just stop what I'm doing to make a coffee. I said, what kind of a dumb restaurant is this, where a guy wants a coffee and he can't have one? It's not like he asked me to make a banana split; he just wanted a coffee, which is a normal part of a restaurant experience. Video: Daniel Rose on Charlie Rose · American Chef Daniel Rose discusses his Paris restaurant Spring [Charlie Rose] · All Daniel Rose Coverage on Eater [-E-] · All Charlie Rose Coverage on Eater [-E-]

                          Boulevard is a place we last came to some years ago and quite liked it so when we were told this is where my professional association's past-presidents luncheon was being held we considered it a lucky stroke of luck.  The menu was restricted as befits a special meal for 30 in their special room - L'Avenue - but was OK and there was no booze since we were considered to be working.  

I have always loved Middle Eastern foods. The fresh vegetables, the liberal use of herbs and seasonings, including a touch of spiciness at times, and the casual way of eating that the food encourages. Meze is the term that’s used to define all the “little plates” that get brought out to begin in a meal, served in little bowls often with pools of olive oil in the middle, waiting to be sopped up with soft pita or other flatbreads. When I wrote about the Lebanese meze I’d had on a trip to the Middle East, I didn’t realize that a number of people were all that interested in what vegetables went into it. (But who can blame them? I wanted to remake it, too.) Like a lot of those foods, people aren’t necessarily following recipes – they’re following their nose, and yup, you got it – they cook by taste. Continue Reading Labneh...

Sanraku at the New Metreon Mall was a place I loved in November and elected to bring Colette and a French pal back to.  It's neat as a pin and looks out on the lovely Buena Yerba Garden.                 I seem to have had some shakiness in potographing our seafood salad, edaname and miso soups but they were anything but shaky - better than stanard by a long shot.                 For mains we went our separate but quite satisfied ways - Colette with a "dynamite" roll of yellow tail, shiso, cucumber, jalepeno, onion and yuzu-soy-sesame sauce; our french friend with his "combo" of California roll and shrimp tempura and me with another chirashi of sushi rice with about 10 fish and/or their roe on top.  All were exemplary. With two Sapporo draft beers, no bottled water, tea or coffee or dessert, our bill came to $52.94 a couple before tip. Go?  You bet.

“Risotto”, of course, means it’s made with rice. But “charred wheat stew” doesn’t sound as appetizing as it actually is. So with the creative culinary expression invokable by quotation marks, I’ll allying this recipe with it’s Italian cousin, risotto, because it’s made the exact same way. And for those who don’t have freekeh, and don’t want to scope it out, can make it the traditional way with rice. Continue Reading Artichoke Freekeh Risotto...

It’s fresh artichoke season and I’m finding them piled up at my local market, practically tumbling off the stands. Last week, I stood there, putting one after the other in my market basket, where I took them home to admire the beauties on my kitchen counter. But they’re not just pretty to look at; artichokes are great in salads, risotto, pastas, and even on open-face sandwiches with a spread of fresh cream cheese and herbs. Artichokes are not hard to prepare but they do take a bit of determination, which is why they’re most often eaten whole, and steamed. However there are those times when you want to treat yourself to just the artichoke hearts. And when the prices drop at the markets, and they’re in abundance, I don’t mind spending a little time preparing them. Artichokes will brown almost the moment you slice into them, so you need to make an acidulated water to slip them into when you’re done trimming each artichoke. (They’ll still darken, but not as significan