“So what are your plans for Paris? Where are you going to eat?” asks sis.
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked into it.”
“Ha! Whatever.”
"I thought since Mum’s taking me I should let her choose.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything…”
… and this wouldn’t be it.
Sis was right. I simply cannot go on holiday without spending an inordinate amount of time researching what I am going to eat – street food, restaurants, cafes, bakeries. You name it – it’s on my list.
Mum knows Paris well and I was certainly open to her suggestions, but I was scared that Paris would tempt me with its world class, Michelin-starred establishments and that these were unlikely to be within her budget, let alone mine. But then – light bulb moment! – I am always on a budget in London and I manage to find great food at reasonable prices here, so why not apply the same rule to Paris?
Queue David Lebovitz’s 10 insanely delicious things you shouldn’t miss in Paris. His number one choice is a restaurant called Les Papilles, a small bistro and wine bar “serving delicious well-presented food, at very reasonable prices.” Perfect. It was the first meal we had in Paris and the best.
Under Lebovitz's instruction, we first chose a bottle of wine from the racks on the wall; the Mas Jullien, Coteaux du Languedoc, 2011. Rose felt like the right thing to drink at lunch time on my first day in Paris. “I don’t know what it is about drinking rose here” said Mum, “but it always seems to taste better when you’re in France”. I agree; I have never found a rose in England as good as the ones I’ve had in France, but I think this probably has more to do with where I shop (Sainsbury’s) and how much I am willing to spend (a tenner) than because you can’t get a good French rose outside France.
Escargot also felt right for my first day in Paris. Cliché? Perhaps, but they were worth it. With escargot, it is usually the garlic butter you taste, rather than the snails themselves. They are simply a vehicle, at best a texture. Or so I thought until I had these ones. Not that there was a lack of garlic butter, they were positively drowning in some of the finest garlic butter I’ve ever eaten, but these were big and meaty and they stood up to the challenge. Snails are often chewy, but these were large and tender. They tasted earthy, like mushrooms, and they had a minerality similar to shellfish.
The starter on Mum’s fixed menu was a cucumber gazpacho exquisitely presented with a salad of radish, croutons, bacon and fried chervil to ladle it over. The soup was very different from a traditional gazpacho, light and creamy with a subtle taste of cucumber. The delicate flavor meant you could really taste the bits in the salad and appreciate the contrasting textures.
Mum looked a bit worried when I ordered the boudin noir (black pudding) for mains.
“If we are sharing you need to know that I won’t be able to eat much of that. It’s too rich for me.”
I ordered it anyway and I didn’t regret it. True, it was a hefty chunk of boudin noir with mash to boot, but somehow it wasn’t stogy at all; a lightness of touch and some fresh vegetables perhaps? Or just the best bloody sausage I’d had in a while (pun intended).
Mum’s main was a roast duck breast with vegetables. Simple, yes, but perfectly executed. The flavor was really gamey, something that is often lacking in the Gressingham duck I buy in England. (Yes, at Sainsbury’s; I sense a running theme here).
Dessert was a light and delicate strawberry pannacotta; just right after a substantial main course. The only thing that was forgettable was the cheese, which was some sort of brie or camembert… I can’t remember.
Mr Lebovitz is not infallible. His suggestion for dinner was almost as bad as this was good, but this was such a good find that I will forgive him and highly recommend that anyone visiting Paris takes a look at the reviews on his blog.
My cousin Jess, who I later recommended it to, rated it in the top ten meals of her life. And that, in the Brown family, is a serious accolade.