Our Week in Paris

B and I got home from Paris on Friday, and I’m still full. It was a solid week of food – much of it amazing, some of it interesting, and a couple of things that were just plain wrong. Where shall I begin?

I should start by saying that even though I lived on them when I was in Paris four years ago, I limited myself to only two jambon and fromage sandwiches (I have since been reminded that it is actually called a mixte sandwich). It’s so simple, but so good – ham, emmental cheese (which is known as Swiss cheese where we come from) on a buttered baguette. As much as I love this sandwich, I cannot bring myself to forego the mustard, pickles, and tomato when I’m home. Not sure why.

Here is a rundown of the things I learned about food in Paris:

Joel Rubichon is a culinary God. There is a reason why he was named Chef of the Century. B and I ate at L’Table and chose his 7 course tasting menu. Here are two words that can be used to describe his food – absolutely amazing. I won’t bore you with the details of every course, but I will say that everything was delicious, prepared perfectly, and presented flawlessly. I chose the quail (over the lamb) for my entrée and it was mouth-wateringly scrumptious (yeah, I said scrumptious). In fact, it was my favorite of everything I ate while in Paris. (B’s too, and he only had one bite of mine.) I was reminded of the first time I had quail, at Craft in New York last fall. I remember commenting that it was too salty, and being a bit disappointed in Tom Colicchio. After eating Joel Rubichon’s quail, I now understand why Chef Colicchio indicated that he was intimidated by Chef Rubichon on an episode of Top Chef Las Vegas last season.

France loves foams. I’ve never actually been served a dish with a foam before. I think the first time I even saw one was on Top Chef (season two, Marcel used them constantly, and he got mocked relentlessly for it). First of all, in my opinion, foams look gross. Seriously, like cat vomit on an otherwise beautiful plate. Now, close your eyes and take a taste. Every foam I was served was delicious and full of flavor. But still, they look gross. And I half expected Marcel and his mile high hair style to come out and present every dish with a foam on it to me, only to be followed by Ilan (the season two winner) who would bitch slap him for making another foam.

Le Jules Verne and the Eiffel Tower are pretty great. B took me to Le Jules Verne for lunch and dinner on my birthday. I was overwhelmed. For lunch, we chose the prix fixe menu over the tasting menu (choosing to reserve the latter for dinner). It included a starter, a main course, and a dessert. The portions were not huge, but they were served very slowly over the course of two hours. We had a one o’clock reservation, and didn’t get out of there until after three. I wasn’t even hungry by the time we returned for our eight o’clock dinner reservation. I have to admit, it was a little hard to get through dinner because I was so full. So forgive me for struggling to take more than a bite of the pigeon course. Yes, that’s right. Pigeon. I took a bite, because I wouldn’t be worth my wannabe foodie salt if I didn’t at least try it. I will admit, it wasn’t that bad. It actually tasted pretty good. But I could not get over the fact that I was eating a rat bird, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was one of the hundreds of pigeons that patrol the grounds of the Eiffel Tower. (I am literally shuddering as I recall this.)

They refer to starters as an entrée on their menus. That can be pretty confusing when you are used to ordering an entrée as your main course.

Steak is made to be eaten in America. I had steak twice, and it was pretty not good both times. Very fatty and difficult to find any lean bites. (I am not a person who can eat the fat. Yuck.) And they don’t get the concept of rare, despite the fact that tartare was featured on almost every menu I saw and it’s only a few minutes away from being rare. At one restaurant, they served the steak on a piece of slate. While it was an attractive presentation, every piece I cut was like nails on a chalkboard. Seriously. Who was the Einstein who came up with that idea?

Day trips to London can result in some interesting food experiences too. I read the first page of an article that was featured in the Best Food Writing of 2009 (“The Cranky Connoisseur,” by Timothy Taylor) that referred to a restaurant called St. John Bar and Restaurant in London. St. John was ranked 16th on the San Pellegrino’s 2008 list of the 50 best restaurants, and as I learned from Mr. Taylor, was named by Anthony Bourdain as the place at which he’d rather eat than anywhere else on earth. This was all I needed to know before making a lunch reservation. St. John represents nose to tail eating, meaning they utilize as much of the animal as possible, and feature a lot of dishes with offal (things like tongue and tripe). I played it safe for my first course and got the cauliflower, leeks and broad beans with a lemony-parsley dressing (yummy), but took an adventurous step forward with my second course – chitterlings. What are chitterlings? Pig’s intestines. These ones happened to be sautéed in duck fat and served with turnips. The pieces of chitterlings that were crispy tasted an awful lot like bacon. Nothing wrong with that. The other pieces were a little too chewy and texturely felt more like chewy bacon. (For the record, I prefer my bacon very crispy.) B was much more adventurous than I was. For his first course, he got the roasted bone marrow and parsley salad (taste wise, I thought it was good; but the texture was a little too fatty for me). He liked it more than I did. I was satisfied with the one taste, but B cleaned his plate. For his second course, he got the ox heart and beets. The ox heart was very tough, but tasty. Sadly, they tasted a little like Steak-Ums. But they were good. We opted to skip dessert. I can’t imagine what that would have looked like.

Even in France, I need Italian food. Pasta and pizza are my go to dishes when international food gets old to me. By Wednesday night, I just needed some comfort food. I couldn’t even think of anything else braised in butter, or sautéed in duck fat. So we pulled out the trusty iPhone and found Pastapapa. B ordered a pizza and I ordered some pasta with Bolognese sauce. The pasta was fresh and the sauce was delicious – just the right amount to stick to the grooves of the pasta. B’s pizza was great too – calabrese salami with peppers and olives. We figured out (alright, B figured out) that they seasoned both the bottom and top of the crust with salt and pepper, and a touch of extra flavor with every taste. After the quail, this was our second favorite meal in Paris. (We are considering food only as we conclude this… you really can’t compete with the ambience of the second level of the Eiffel Tower for overall dining experience.)

And there you have it – the highlights of the 20+ meals we ate during our week in Paris. It was an amazing week – the food, the experiences, the sights, and most of all the company. It was the best birthday present ever. Not only did I get to spend a week in what I think is the most beautiful city in the world, I got to spend it with an amazing guy who gave this wannabe foodie a lot to write about. And a lot to remember for the rest of her life.

Au revoir!