Friday 4 December 2009

Trio of restaurant discoveries is Paris' Christmas gift

One of the greatest delights of London life is the fact that places that, from America, are “trips of a lifetime”, become quick and familiar weekend getaways.


Paris comes with an enormous cultural legacy. If you haven’t been here before, or are not sure of repeat visits, it’s almost impossible to relax under the burden of required trips to museums like the Louvre, the Gare du Nord or Musee de Cluny and visits to architectural blockbusters like the Eiffel Tower, Versailles and the Place de la Concorde. But when Paris is easily accessible … the equivalent of a trip to Memphis or Chicago from St. Louis … you can cross a threshold where you’ve done the major sites and no longer feel compelled to pursue the tourist round. It’s then that you can simply wander, window shop and dine, free from cultural guilt.


Which is exactly how the Northwestern Girls spent their recent pre-Christmas weekend. We were concentrating on food, wine and whatever holiday shopping made sense given the punishing strength of the Euro. It was a blissful and relaxed weekend, though the exchange rate made it frightfully expensive.


Our base was the Hotel St. Louis – Marais, long my favourite landing spot in the city. I love this part of town, with its gracious 16th century architecture, classy boutiques and quiet back lanes. Though adjacent to the Seine and within walking distance of most major sites, it seems quieter and less overrun with tourists than other parts of town. The Hotel St. Louis is an old townhouse with less than 20 rooms. It’s gracious, charming and has a bit of historic flair. Think B&B rather than amenity-rich hotel, however. We shared a junior suite on the very top floor. (There’s no lift here, so be sure you have the energy for long flights of stairs before booking.) The exposed timbers, cathedral ceiling and lofted gallery gave the room great interest, while the three beds (one main, one in the loft, one tucked under the sloping eaves) and modern bathroom made it wonderfully convenient. At 160 euro a night for the room, not bargain basement prices, but certainly fine value for money when split between three.


It was a great weekend for wandering. We stumbled onto an outdoor market in the Marais, filled with local producers who'd brought cheese, preserved fruits, foie gras, wines, etc. in from the countryside. Foie gras, in fact, was to be a theme of the weekend. Not only did we indulge in restaurants, but we kept stumbling into specialty shops offering samples and holiday deals. In fact, the French grasp the idea of free samples in a way still alien to the English; by lunch on Saturday we'd been offered five types of foie gras, chocolate truffles and a wide variety of wines, all gratis. How civilised. Our rambles over the weekend took us around the Place des Voges, through the M

arais, around the Saint Germain des Pres and down the main street of the Isle St. Louis. Good window shopping, as there seem to be more independent boutiques left in Paris than in London these days. But there were few bargains, so we bought little. It was only at the very end of the weekend that we made it over to the "Grands Magasin", the huge department stores with the famous Christmas decorations. Impressive lights, and window displays far better than anything in London, but still not a patch on Marshall Fields' State Street extravaganzas.


Shopping was nice, but it was eating and drinking (and the accompanying conversations) that made the weekend. Find No. 1 was Roger la Grenouille (28,Rue des Grands Augustins), a classic neighbourhood bistro in the heart of Saint Germain des Pres. If you remember enough French to know that grenouille means frog, you won't be surprised to learn that the place specialises in frogs' legs, with one normal menu and one of froggy delights. Hillary was the adventurous one, starting with a pile of legs cooked with small tomatoes, pine nuts and olive oil. Very tasty and, yes, pretty much just like chicken. I, however, was compelled to go for the trio of foie gras, featuring one slice duck, one goose, and some foie gras creme brulee. Our main course orders encompassed prawns, scallops and beef, all cooked to perfection. I can't imagine returning to Paris without coming back here.


Tied for second place were our restaurants for Saturday dinner and Sunday lunch. Saturday found us at Vins des Pyranees (25 rue Beautreillis), a bistro just around the corner from our hotel in what was once a wine importer ... ergo the name. The place came highly recommended and the menu was classic hearty cuisine; French comfort food. Yes, the French can elevate steak and chips to an entirely different meal than the equivalent in most other countries. Embrace the simplicity and enjoy. My one criticism would be the crowd. There were enough people packed cheek-by-jowl in here for me to wonder about fire regulations. Probably due to it being a pre-holiday Saturday night, but not a place to do if you're looking for a quiet, romantic meal.


For Sunday lunch, after discovering that two of our choices were closed, we literally stumbled onto Le Grand Colbert. ("Look, that place is open. It looks nice. Hey, it's in the guidebook. Hey ... it's famous.") Turns out Colbert (2 Rue Vivienne) is one of the city's classic bistros, patronised by many famous people over the years and listed as an architectural landmark. Its interiors are worth the trip alone: tall ceilings, Pompeiian wall paintings, gleaming brass fittings, impressive lamps with globes of frosted glass. You could almost forgive an average meal. Fortunately, the food doesn't disappoint either. We ate off the set menu, making this one of our more reasonable outings. The offerings are simple, majoring on grilled meats and fish, and very nice oysters, but the preparation and serving is done with flair.


French food has a lofty reputation, but it's easy to get bad meals in Paris. I know. I've had them. This time, I got lucky, and now have a short list for all future trips. Who knows. I may even get back inside a museum next time.

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