Eating in Paris: Polidor

Paris is full of very chic, very fashionable, very crowded restaurants doing all kinds of modern things with food for a very discriminating clientele. I stay away from those.

I unabashedly admit that when I am in Paris I want to overdose on the atmosphere I know from the old Hollywood movies. Think "The Last Time I Saw Paris" or "An American in Paris."

Give me a cluttered, cozy old cafe or bistro serving stick to your ribs French classics on porcelain dinner wear. I want croque monsieur dripping with bechamel sauce or onion soup gratinee with a cap of bubbly, melted cheese, or steak, roast chicken or moules with piles of golden pommes frites or a heap of homemade mashed potatoes.

I want something like Cremerie Restaurant Polidor.

Polidor's cozy interior looks like a Hollywood movie set. A window filled with greenery. Yellowed lace curtains. Mottled mirrors with wine lists scrawled on them. Chalkboards promoting the daily specials. Tarnished brass and silver. Crowded noisy bench tables with communal pots of salt and mustard. Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time.

When I ate there in Spring 2007, cigarette smoke still swirled about in an atmospheric cloud. That's changed now since the smoking ban, but everything else is still the same.

While the atmosphere here is so Parisian as to almost appear manufactured, Polidor's patina is genuine. This place has been around over 100 years. And though Polidor is a tourist guide staple and has been featured on Rachel Ray's "40 dollars a Day" show in the U.S., the prevailing language here is still reassuringly French (although the menu is written in many languages).

On my visit, I was disappointed that they didn't have pumpkin soup, which I hear is a house specialty, but the bean soup was hearty and tasty.

The bouef bourguignon stock on the other hand was watery, the meat a little tough -- but then that's bouef bourguignon pretty much wherever you go.

The tartes here are homemade. I wavered between the lemon and chocolate before going with the citron. Delicious

The fixed formula menu is a good value as is the house wine.

The restroom facilities are, ummm, interesting.

A gourmet experience? Hardly, but but if you want to experience a weathered French bistro as you always imagined it would be right in the heart of Paris (the popular 6th arrondisement), Polidor is it.

Eating in Paris: L'heure Gourmand

It's been a busy morning of shopping. I want to relax in a cozy little salon de the surrounded by all my pretty little bags, so I can inventory my purchases and enjoy a light lunch and perhaps un petit gout of something sweet to fortify me for a vigorous afternoon of sight seeing. I contemplate my choices.

There are the grand dames -- Angelina, Laduree, Mariage Freres -- all sure to be bustling this time of day. But I'm in the mood for something quieter, more personal, a bit off the beaten path.

I see a street sign, remember a blog posting and step through a large iron gate into the quiet cobblestoned Passage Dauphine. Ah, serenity. There's a toy store, a librarie, and, just as I had hoped, L'Heure Gourmande.

The interior is small, warm, inviting. Tartes, savory and sweet, are showcased under glass covers. In short order, a demi-carafe of white wine, a basket of bread and a slice of vegetable tart, accompanied by greens tumbled in tangy vinegarette, appear in front of me.

I peruse the day's yield: a few bars of convent-made lavender soap, antique crocheted gloves and a lace hanky, a lovely rose lipstick for my sister, embroidered "lingerie bags" for the girls back home (oh, how delightfully French are these), a second-hand book for my brother-in- law from "Shakespeare and Company" and, pour moi, a tiny madeleine pan.

I celebrate a day of successful shopping with a tiny sliver of chocolate mousse cake sprinkled with lovely green pistachios.

Can this day be any more perfect?


L’Heure Gourmande
22, passage Dauphine, 75006 Paris
Tel. +33 (0)1 46 34 00 40
Métro: Odéon

A Stroll down Rue de Rosiers

I didn't see or smell any roses on this street named for them in the old Marais district.

But then, I'm not sure I could have handled the sensory overload.

In this old neighborhood, the heart of Paris' Jewish quarter, ancient synagogues and crumbling delicatessens share real estate with modern fashion boutiques and industrial-mod art galleries. Soberly clad Hasidic Jews rub shoulders with tourists and the Marais' uber-trendy new denizens.

The neighborhood bustles on this overcast fall Sunday before Sukkot (the festival of the harvest). In front of the festival's traditional temporary booths, young men in yarmulkes and neatly pressed white shirts sell the four species -- willow and myrtle branches, palm fronds and puckered etrog fruits -- to families preparing for their week long religious celebration.

Parisians throng three deep around the take-out windows of the street's most popular falafel stands, desperate to get their fix before the stands shutter up for the week.

The smell of the fried chickpea-patties, eggplant and that incredible hot sauce they dress it all with is dizzying. I unwrap my prize and chow down on the spot, licking the sauce off my fingers (very discreetly because of course this is Paris not KFC) while simultaneously "licking the windows" as the French call window-shopping.

Yes, the falafel is drool-worthy, but, oh, so are the clothes -- in the season's tones of amethyst, ruby, burnt umber, charcoal and, of course, black. Even the store window mannequins here are intimidatingly chic in layered sweater dresses with low-slung belts, effortlessly draped scarves and riding boots and hobo bags.

I make myself think of those clothes, as I pass Sacha Finkelstzajan's deli and patisserie. The rich, dense cheesecake in the window looks like one my mother used to make.

Just at the end of this lovely rose-less street, I almost completely overlook the unobtrusive, adorably named salon de the, Le Loir dans la Theiere, (The Dormouse in the Teapot). With a name like that, I must to stop in.

Unlike other tearooms in Paris, which tend to be spare and Zen or gilded and baroque, this one is agreeably cluttered and cozy. People, appear to be in no rush as they nurse cups of coffee or tea in silver pots while crowded around little tables and in the corners of comfy leather couches. A chalkboard menu once filled with lunch specials, has been progressively erased until there are just two choices: a green salad with hot goat cheese and an omelet. I opt for a pot of tea.

And then I see it. The dessert I have been waiting for all my life. A tarte au citron, but not just any tarte, this, but a feat of culinary engineering. The thin, thin, tarte with its yellow custard filling, is topped by a billowing pile of light airy meringue ten inches, yes, 10 INCHES thick. The mother of all meringues. So light and fluffy it should stuff a pillow -- and oh what sweet slumber that would be.

And I weep at the knowledge that I am just too full to eat it.

Perhaps next time. For that meringue and I were meant to be.

Eating in Paris: Chartier

I'll give it to you straight. You won't come here for the food. Chances are you won't even remember what you ate later. You will, however, remember almost everything else about this fabulous Belle-Epoque eatery: the line outside (which moves very quickly), the time capsulish décor, the bustling wait staff, and the extensive, if unremarkable, menu of correctly done -- and cheap -- French classics.

The crowd is eclectic, the noise level high and the wait staff can be grouchy or hilariously funny. They are all very competent, whether bearing huge heavy laden trays up stairs, juggling customers or adding up long columns of figures in pencil on the tablecloth.

After we were seated at a small table by the kitchen entrance, much to our disappointment, the waiter sidled over and, in French, said two of his out of town regulars who always sat at this table, wanted to know if we would trade places. Pas de problem! After much smiling and nodding, shaking of hands and raised wine glasses across a crowded room, the table swap was made much to everyone's satisfaction, especially the waiter, who as a reward for our cooperation turned into the Most Charming and Attentive Waiter Ever.

I left there humming. Like Amelie, I just love making people happy. While the food isn't the best in Paris -- the shrimp were a little rubbery, the hamburger steak bland --the duck confit and the accompanying potatoes were quite tasty. And it's hard to beat that atmosphere.

Oh, and did I mention this restaurant is featured briefly in a scene in one of my very favorite French movies, "A Very Long Engagement?" (click here for film trailer) Look for it about midway through in one of Jodie Foster's scenes. Even though it's set during World War I, this is still one of those movies you'll want to see before going to Paris.


7 Rue du Faubourg Montmartre75009 Paris, France

Paris Neighborhoods: Butte-Aux-Cailles

Butte-Aux-Cailles, in the 13th, is very different from the rest of Paris. The architecture is different and it has a real village feel. The 13th is home to a large immigrant population, so when you get off the metro here you can indulge in any number of good and cheap ethnic eats.

On Saturdays there's also a huge open-air market near the Place d'Italie where I bought some jewelry for the girls back home. Also a good place to sample and snack.

There are a number of shops in Butte-aux-Cailles. Easily one of the most charming is the "honey place." This tiny shop is dedicated to all things related to bee-keeping and honey. You'll find beeswax candles, honey soap, every kind of honey imaginable in all sizes of jars (some of it from the owner's own hives), artisan crafted glass honey drippers. Oh, and some pretty amazing homemade pain d'epices (now I know why Clothilde Dusolier raves about it in her book) in big and small loaves. Pick up an assortment of these goodies to make a honey of gift bag for the folks back home. The owner is also quite nice and soft-spoken.

There are a lot of good restaurants in this neighborhood, but you won't find a more popular lunch spot than Le Temps des Cerises, a very French café where you'll sit cheek by jowl with Parisians. The only English I heard spoken here was by my table mate who interrupted his French conversation to help me order my steak au point (medium). Great three course lunch menu, VERY reasonably priced. Nothing fancy. I highly recommend the bavette steak which comes with great Roquefort sauce and a pile of some of the best frites I've every had and the pear clafoutis for dessert.

Eating in Paris: La Tour d'Argent

OK. I'm cheating a little. I didn't really eat here. Lunch alone will set you back 60 euros. But I thought you'd like to see one of the oldest (and most expensive) restaurants in Paris.

Eating in Paris: Relais d'Entrecote

There's only one thing on the menu at this famous St. Germain eatery: entrecote (rib) steak in a wonderful secret sauce, accompanied by a simple salad with walnuts and mustard vinaigrette, and piles of pommes frites. They don't take reservations, but the line moves quickly especially if you are a small party.

I had eaten the same menu at the Relais de Venise, the original restaurant established by the owner's father, now run by her sister, two years ago. Although they use the same recipes, I found the dinner at the older eatery better. Maybe it was just me. It was a little overheated in the restaurant tonight, and I couldn't give the food my whole attention.

Make no mistake about it, it is delicious and the portions are generous. The servers in their cute classic black and white uniforms come around twice. While you don't get a choice as to your main meal, they do have an extensive dessert menu. I'm partial to the profiteroles.

Some people pooh-pooh this place as a tourist trap. Yes, you'll hear mostly English and Italian at the St. Germain location; the other location is favored by locals. The long lines don't lie. It's worth the trip.

Eating in Paris: La Charlotte d'Isle

One good thing about visiting Paris when it's cold and wet is that you get to spend a lot of time drinking hot chocolate or chocolat chaud as they say here. Forget about those little powdered packets of hydrogenated whatever from Nestle or Swiss Miss that we call hot chocolate in the States. They should not even be mentioned in the same breath as this heavenly nectar.

Here, hot chocolate, as with all with food, is treated with reverence. And the results are amazing -- and all so different. I can see why the French aristocrats tried to hog it all for themselves. Probably the real reason for the Revolution as opposed to that "let 'em cake" stuff. The French peasants probably wouldn't have minded the cake so much if they had a cup of this to wash it down.

So I made it my mission this Christmas visit to scope out the best chocolat chaud in Paris.

The gold standard for me is Laduree. Their chocolat ancien is served in little silver pitchers, and it's like drinking a chocolate bar. After that incredible first sip, you definitely need a swig of water -- and a moment to compose yourself. Yeah, it's that good. Even better, to me than, Angelina's, which is considered by most to be Paris' best.

The best hot chocolate I had this trip was right in the neighborhood on Ile St. Louis. The salon de the La Charlotte d'Isle, pictured here, is always packed, especially with British tourists (the owner is a Brit) and resembles your aunt's crowded parlor. In addition to the amazing hot chocolate, the store sells all kinds of wonderful hand-dipped and molded chocolates. The chocolate dipped candied orange peel is my favorite.

Eating in Paris: Patisseries

Pastry-making is an art-form in Paris, and one that is celebrated --and indulged in -- everywhere. When I dream of Paris, I don't think of just the lovely buildings and monuments, but the trays and trays of beautiful, decadent pastries like these.

Featured here are two specialities of the holiday season: buches de noel, mousse-filled sponge cake, a popular Christmas dessert, and gallettes des rois. We call them "king cakes" in this part of the world.

Eating in Paris: Patrick Roger Chocolates

There is a chocolate shop on every street corner in Paris. And they're all good. Two of the best apparently (judging by the lines coming out the doors Christmas Eve) are La Maison du Chocolat and Patrick Roger. The latter's window's included displays of these chocolate fir trees and a giant choclate mountain. Heaven.

Eating in Paris: L'Auberge de la Reine Blanche

For Christmas Eve, decided to stay close and chose this tiny, cozy little bistro (The Inn of the White Queen in English) down the street from the apartment. The sign on the door said it was Zagat rated, and it had a positive (if yellowed) review from The Times Picayune of all places taped to their window.

The lighting was dim, the soundtrack was Piaf and the tiny place was soon filled to its picturesque 17th century beams with laughter and table chatter -- in English. American English to be precise. Rut roh. Can you say le trap touriste?

Shame on me for thinking that.

My daily special, leg of lamb roasted in honey with nice side of cheesy garlic souffled potatoes, was incredible as was the creme brulee. The tiny kitchen also turned out cast-iron cocottes which, when their lids were lifted, filled the air with the heady scent of boeuf bourguignon and lamb stew. There were lots of oohs and aahs and inadequate attempts in very bad French to express just how tres bon all of it really was. I would definitely eat here again, especially at the fixed formule prices.

Ambiance: Picturesque and romantic on the enchanting Ile St. Louis

Prices: Reasonable

Food: Very good traditional French dishes.

Hours: Open every day.

Eating in Paris: Aux Anysetiers du Roy

This pretty little place just down the street from the apartment attracted me with its sparkly blue lights. ButI must admit, I was really drawn in by their handsome maitre d', a strapping orange fellow with a big pink nose and full set of white whiskers like those on my Henry. He had a bit of Monsieur Henri's attitude as well. After strolling by and allowing me to pull his tail twice, he retired upstairs with the missus, a sweet and shy Siamese. And just when I was in need of some kitty love (I was really missing my babies by day 4). Eh bien.

Now for the food. The beef filet was tender. The mushroom gravy was a little too thick (and dare I say "canned" tasting without starting an international incident) but it was redeemed by the dessert, a fudgy square of pave au chocolat dusted with gold leaf and swimming in a pool of creme anglaise.

Eating in Paris: Cafe des Musees

Maybe I should subtitle this post "The NOT-cracker." My friend and I stood in line for what seemed like forever at the Bastille box office to get tickets to Tchaikovsky's "The Nutcracker" only to find out they had been sold out for weeks. Lesson learned: Disregard the guidebooks that tell you to go to the box office the day of for half-price tickets. If you really want to see something, reserve well in advance online. The French don't do lines well.

Quel dommage. But no biggie. I've only seen this ballet about six times, and it is at the Bastille Opera House not the legendary Opera Garnier which I've been jonesing to see.

So on this cold, wet night we wander along Rue de Varenne in Le Marais and find Cafe des Musees which I've heard is quite good. No reservation, but no problem. It's still early on a Monday night, and the jovial and accommodating staff finds room for us.

Situated on a corner near the Pompidou Center and the Picasso Museum, the cafe is your classic neighborhood place with tiled floors, lots of windows, scratched tables and hooks on the wall by your table on which to hang your coat. And they serve some of the most amazing food I've ever eaten.

I order the special formule fixe: potage aux choufleur (cauliflower soup), cottes d'agneau aux chevriers (tender slices of lamb stewed with carrots, onions and whole cloves of garlics over beans which absorb all these flavors) and, for dessert, creme caramel. Don't you love the way the syllables of this dessert just slide over your tongue? The actual creme and caramel go down just as silkily. Must learn how to make this stuff.

This restaurant has been written up in a lot of guide books, so the crowd is extremely eclectic. Besides us, on this night the early dinner crowd includes several French regulars, a British family of four, some Asian tourists who apparently know the chef, a handsome gay couple from the neighborhood and a modishly turned out Japanese lady dining solo. Despite her flawless appearance, she is no fragile flower when it comes to food. She rips into a platter of raw oysters and a huge entrecote steak with a plate of frites with gusto. She lovingly captures each course with her camera. She is examining the dessert menu when we leave. I'm with you, sister.

I walk out into the raw night full of good food and bursting with bon vivance. If you ever find yourself in Paris on a cold, wet night, come here. You won't be disappointed. I promise.

Verdict: Ambiance is no more than your average Paris bistro. Prices are reasonable. Food is stellar. My best meal in Paris this trip.

Eating in Paris: Cafe Med

Parisians love to eat out and love to eat late. I like to eat out, but prefer eating early, especially while suffering from jet lag. With it's pinkish-red walls, this whimsical little cafe just down the street from the apartment reminded me a lot of one of my favorite bistros in New Orleans, Lilette's. Unfortunately, their duck confit was not as good.as Lilette's However, the salad with Roquefort cheese (and, oh is the cheese good in Paris) and Bayonne ham was delicious as was my crepe St. Louis for dessert (lots of gooey dark chocolate, toasted almonds and fresh whipped cream).

On this cold December night, it was almost like eating in my own private restaurant. The proprietor is the quintessential Frenchwoman of a certain age, self-possessed and elegant with the moxie -- and figure -- to carry off a tousled silver do, red lips and perfectly tailored leather pants. Damn, these women have style.

Eating in Paris: Sorza

The landlady, Emmanuelle, recommended this little Italian bistro down the street for dinner on the first night. Really, I cannot stress how convenient everything is here on the island. I don't see why people would ever need to leave.

Sorza is one of those tiny (fewer than 25 seats) restaurants so popular here. It's very chic and attracts a young, hip crowd late at night. The staff is very friendly. All seem to speak English, but indulge my bad French.

I order the penne carbonara with panna cotta with two-fruit coulis for dessert. It's good, but not great. I've had better Italian food. The fixed price menu is not a bad deal, however.

Verdict: It's one of those places that looks like a picture in a chic travel magazine. It gets a high grade on style and service. The food isn't bad, but I don't plan to eat here again on this trip.