Two new (to me) restaurants in Paris and its environs are the subject of this posting. I am definitely a city mouse, but I must confess that my trip to the country was eye-opening and one of the best, most creative meals I have had (aside from the now two meals at Jeanne-Aimée) in recent (and possibly long-term) memory.
Merci really and truly to @Phoenikia for the suggestion of Le Doyenné, in Saint Vrain. It is, to be fair, more than a short hop, but less than a long journey, from Paris. Able certainly to manage for an evening, especially a Saturday night that my friends, a couple living in Paris and I (visiting from New York) were well able to devote to this experience. And experience it was. Not like a fellow New Yorker complains that they would rather not see their dinner in situ, as it were, but rather take their word that things are fresh and going to be delicious because of what the chef will do with the product. Let me say at the outset that this was not a place like Blue Hill Stone Farm restaurant outside of NYC, where I will never go (this mostly because of the snobbishness around “sourcing”) that my friend deplores.
But this meal at Le Doyenné, I would say, if you can manage, run, take the train, walk if you have to. Don’t arrive early and walk around the gardens, if this is really counter to any experience you might wish to have, but do arrive early enough to enjoy an aperitif on the glassed in porch (no bugs!) before your dinner in the incredibly dramatic and comfortable dining room. (If you can arrive before dark, I think it only adds to the drama of the room.) And the food. Ooh la la.
We had a little problem ordering wine because it is a surprise menu (and there I was with a French couple who really know something about what they were looking at in the wine list, but nothing about the dinner). What a pickle that could have been! But the sommelier, with no hint of standoffishness or condescension appreciated my friends’ feelings on the matter and helpfully guide us to first a white and then a red that were beyond fantastic, both to our mutual sensibilities as well as to going with the extraordinary food.
And make no mistake about it, the food was both creative and delicious. Not to mention the bread and butter, which we all agreed we could not find an equal to anywhere that we know of in Paris. (Full disclosure: I’m a slave to a good piece of bread. It’s why, really, I spend so much time in Paris.) There simply was not a taste of anything that my friends and I put in our mouths that didn’t have us opening wide our eyes at each other and saying “Wow!” Believe me, that’s the same in French as it is in English. Among the standouts in my mind were a little bowl of raw/seviche shrimp in a little icy soup that was slightly sweet,slightly herby (maybe cilantro/coriander, maybe something else), but just put on the table, almost as an aside. Wow. Also a gazpacho that was served just after the red wine we had chosen as our blind date with the help of Wonder Woman Sommelier that was an almost unbelievable pairing (I, along with my friends I am sure, looked at this and thought, “No way!”) Boy were we wrong.
Tonight, one of my friends from the couple and I, dined at Nicholas Flamel, house of the oldest restaurant in Paris, newly redesigned, new young chef, and a Michelin star. We were excited to go. My friend, as I said a Frenchman, and I were walked past several empty tables for two and an exciting looking open kitchen to an upstairs, airless dining room with no decoration except a couple of ugly, “decorative” mirrors on the walls. I feared, and was soon proven right, that my friend was going to experience dinner with the Americans in Siberia. I almost said we should leave before we started (I do at my age have a sense of such things), but we stayed. Unfortunately, I was right. We were both handed English menus (which we asked to change), and then had the most mediocre meal either of us could remember. We also fought with the sommelier to get the wine we had ordered, rather than the one he happened to have on ice that he insisted my friend (the man at the table, though he was my guest and the reservation was in my name) taste. I also asked for a taste and he obliged, and we both looked at each other with disappointment, and my friend asked that we wait the 6 minutes (maybe 8 minutes?) that the sommelier suggested it would take to ice the wine we had ordered. We turned to each other after the sommelier had left, and although our vocabulary was slightly different, the sentiment was the same. He said the wine was “weak” at the same time I said it was “limp.” And this remained our impression of the entire meal. We both had langoustines to start and then the house specialty “blue lobster.” The wine was good for sure that we got, though for the second time when it was served to my guest, I had to ask for a taste! The desserts fine, but nothing in the “wow” department.
When we got the check, and this was unbelievable to me in a French restaurant, I was paying with my card, and the waiter asked if I wanted to leave a tip. I said I would leave it in cash, but then I inquired whether the service was included, and the waiter said it was not. I thought this unusual, which my French friend agreed, but I put a large amount of cash on the table as the meal wasn’t the server’s fault (nor the sommelier’s ridiculous behavior). However, when I looked at my receipt, it said at the bottom, “service compris.” I asked my dinner companion if this didn’t mean that the service was included, and he agreed this is what it meant. Confused, I showed the waiter the receipt and asked him if he hadn’t just told me that service was not included, and he responded that service was in included but not the “pourboire/tip.”
Now, I consider that I am incredibly generous tipper (maybe to a fault) all over Europe where the service is generally included, and I of course know this, but feel compelled to leave much in the way of extra. But I draw the line at being lied to! Just an awful feeling after a totally unremarkable meal. So, I put together with my friend a smaller, token tip, and we left. But the final kicker was that the dining room downstairs was now completely empty, and it was clear that there was one table still set for a potential arrival, but the others that had been empty when we arrived were still empty, after we had been told that they were completely booked for the evening.
Better, by far, to eat at Le MaZenay right across the street or take yourself into the country to Le Doyenée for a truly unforgettable experience.
