Posted by Krista on July 19, 2010
Last month, I was in Paris for work for three days. It was one of those trips where all you see is hotel-conference room-restaurant-hotel-conference room-restaurant and by the end of it, you are shattered.
I did not envy my French colleague Denis who had to feed 65 people every night. This, apparently, is not very easy in Paris. Unlike London, where every restaurant is prepared to sell its soul to the evil that is corporate (insert country here), Paris just doesn’t do big groups. Or so I’ve been told. (If you’ve ever had dinner for 65 in Paris, please tell me where and if it was any good. We can always use more tips.)
All that being said, Denis booked us into two very interesting venues and while the food might not have been that sort of “I want to move to France and enroll in cooking school like YESTERDAY” type of experience, it was still pretty French. Which means, in my mind, pretty good.
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Posted in France, Paris | 5 Comments
Posted by Krista on September 10, 2009
La Lycorne
6 , Rue de la Poissonerie
22100 Dinan
France
Date of Last Visit: Sunday, August 30, 2009
The Victims: Gerry, Ben, Sarah
The Damage: About 20 euros each
The Background: It’s official. I love Brittany. The people of Brittany are happy. They eat crepes all the time. And they drink cider all the time. They believe in aperitifs (as, I suppose, does most of France). And they love caramel. We have a lot in common. I want to live here.
The people of Brittany also love mussels. And frites, of course. So on the hearty recommendation of our very French and very wonderful innkeeper, we set out for La Lycorne, conveniently located on Dinan’s tourist strip. But here’s the thing…Dinan is so cute and the people are so nice, we don’t care about the tourist strip. We just care about the mussels.
The Food: We are wise and only order two buckets of mussels for us four. This proves to be more than enough. Much more than enough! Yes, we know we’re sorta fudging the “only eat mussels in months with Rs in them” rule, but it’s the very end of August and September is NOT far away. My mussels are in a cream sauce, filled with fat pieces of salmon. The mussels are small. The salmon is generous. I find myself searching out the salmon more than the mussels. Ah, but the frites are great.
The Funny Bit: It’s 12 noon on a Sunday and everyone wants to know what I want to drink. Um, can we wait until 2 p.m. please? 12 noon on a Sunday just seems so EARLY.
The Verdict: Although I love Dinan and I love mussels, I’d say that La Lycorne was just okay. I’m not dying to go back or anything. But I’d go back to Brittany, for sure. You can fly direct to Dinard from Stanstead for super-cheap on Ryanair, where you can also make calls in flight. (Which is either the best invention ever or like the worst possible to thing to happen to airline travel. Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now?)
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Posted in Brittany, France | 2 Comments
Posted by Krista on September 9, 2009
Créperie Le Connétable
1, Rue Apport
F-22100 Dinan
Date of Last Visit: Friday, August 28, 2009
The Victims: Gerry, Ben, Sarah
The Damage: 20 euros. If that.
The Background: I’ve spent a lot of time today, trying to make sure my luggage weighs less than 10 kilos. Because you know, I’m flying Ryanair and carrying-on. So unless I want to pay a gazillion dollars (pounds…euros…whatever), I need to clock in at less than 10 something or others.
I am impressed with my own packing skills and manage to tip the scales at 8.5 kilos. Subtract the September issue of Vogue on the way back, and I’m at 8.25 kilos. I, in short, am awesome.
Crepes are a good reward. A very good reward. If I had the millions I deserved, I would hire someone to do nothing but make me crepes. They are, after all, a very versatile food. You can have crepes for breakfast. Or for lunch. Or for dinner. You can have sweet crepes. Savoury crepes. Crepes with nothing but butter. Crepes with Nutella. Crepes with banana. Crepes with ham. Yes, crepes. I like crepes.
The Entrance: It’s never good to go to a restaurant you can’t pronounce. I need to remember this for later. But it’s so cute inside that I can’t imagine that the food will be anything less than good.
The Cider: Brittany likes cider. I had no idea. When I think of Cider, I think Magners. But here’s what I’ve learned: There’s a lot of cider in Brittany. A LOT. And no one outside of France drinks it. So get yourself hip to the trend and get into Bretagne Cider now and you will be totally already into something very great later. We are hooked.
The Food: I get a ham and cheese and egg crepe. It’s like supermarket-Schinken. (Sorry, I’m writing this from Germany.) I am not impressed. The crepe is tasteless. Everything is tasteless. Honestly, a little salt and butter would have gone a long way. I am sad. no amount of cuteness can make up for this.
For dessert, I get an apple and vanilla ice cream crepe and this is much better. Between the cuteness and the ice cream crepe, Créperie Le Connétable is almost redeemed. Almost. But not quite.
The Verdict: Go for the cuteness. Not the food.
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Posted in Brittany, France | 3 Comments
Posted by Krista on September 9, 2009
Créperie Le Connétable
1, Rue Apport
F-22100 Dinan
Date of Last Visit: Friday, August 28, 2009
The Victims: Gerry, Ben, Sarah
The Damage: 20 euros. If that.
The Background: I’ve spent a lot of time today, trying to make sure my luggage weighs less than 10 kilos. Because you know, I’m flying Ryanair and carrying-on. So unless I want to pay a gazillion dollars (pounds…euros…whatever), I need to clock in at less than 10 something or others.
I am impressed with my own packing skills and manage to tip the scales at 8.5 kilos. Subtract the September issue of Vogue on the way back, and I’m at 8.25 kilos. I, in short, am awesome.
Crepes are a good reward. A very good reward. If I had the millions I deserved, I would hire someone to do nothing but make me crepes. They are, after all, a very versatile food. You can have crepes for breakfast. Or for lunch. Or for dinner. You can have sweet crepes. Savoury crepes. Crepes with nothing but butter. Crepes with Nutella. Crepes with banana. Crepes with ham. Yes, crepes. I like crepes.
The Entrance: It’s never good to go to a restaurant you can’t pronounce. I need to remember this for later. But it’s so cute inside that I can’t imagine that the food will be anything less than good.
The Cider: Brittany likes cider. I had no idea. When I think of Cider, I think Magners. But here’s what I’ve learned: There’s a lot of cider in Brittany. A LOT. And no one outside of France drinks it. So get yourself hip to the trend and get into Bretagne Cider now and you will be totally already into something very great later. We are hooked.
The Food: I get a ham and cheese and egg crepe. It’s like supermarket-Schinken. (Sorry, I’m writing this from Germany.) I am not impressed. The crepe is tasteless. Everything is tasteless. Honestly, a little salt and butter would have gone a long way. I am sad. no amount of cuteness can make up for this.
For dessert, I get an apple and vanilla ice cream crepe and this is much better. Between the cuteness and the ice cream crepe, Créperie Le Connétable is almost redeemed. Almost. But not quite.
The Verdict: Go for the cuteness. Not the food.
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Posted in Brittany, France | No Comments
Posted by Krista on June 17, 2009
L'Ardoise
28 rue du Mont-Thabor
75001 PARIS
Date of Last Visit: Thursday, June 4, 2009
The Victims: Too many to mention.
The Damage: Unknown! Our CFO paid.
The Background: I was excited, of course, to go to Paris for work. But the fact that Craig and his wife Leann would be there at the same time made me look forward to the trip even more. I know I can always count on them for organizing a great evening.
Craig told me about a little restaurant he had been to the night before and how much he and Leann had liked it. So based on his rave reviews, we booked a return trip–this time, for nine people.
The Entrance: We enter and are shown our own private dining room. How great is this? (The only bad part is that our private dining room is on the way to the toilets.) We make ourselves comfortable and proceed to rearrange all the tables.
Ummm…Only to find out that this is not our table. We don't have a private dining room. We've got a table upstairs in the corner. Whoops. Luckily not our fault.
The Ordering: I steer clear of my co-worker from yesterday's lunch at Georgette this time around. Luckily, there are no paper menus, just a large blackboard. There are also no little toothpicks around, so I can't poke anybody's eyes out.
I do agree to share the cuissot de chevreau roti with the same co-worker, however. (And although I don't know what cuissot means–my French colleagues tell me "shin"; Google Translate says "leg"–I do know that chevreau means goat.) I also take our server's suggestion of the prawn starter, which isn't even listed on the blackboard.
The Starters: We're brought a couple of boards of saucison. Great stuff. And then my prawns arrive, and I haven't stopped thinking about them since. They're served individually, each prawn in its own little pot of red wine, with a great buttery garlicky crouton on top. It was all I could do NOT to drink the remaining red wine in all the pots. Oh to be dining alone! (I did, however, help myself to some bread to sop it all up.)
The Mains: After a while, my colleagues insisted that I stop calling my main "baby goat." But the problem is, that's how my French colleagues first described to me. As I reviewed the menu, I said, "Well, that says goat" and they said, "Well, it more like baby goat. And what's that part of the leg? The lower part? Shin! Shin, yes. It's "baby goat shin." (Kinda like "baby fish mouth"? If you know what I'm talking about.) Well, the goat, baby or not, was delicious.
The Dessert: I'm not normally a huge crème brûlée fan, but again, I went with our server's recommendation. This was billed as a raspberry crème brûlée, which I figured was because of the raspberry sorbet on top. How wrong I was! This was full of plump raspberries. Fantastic.
The Verdict: This was a very happy meal. I left very happy. I would gladly go back here, and I would gladly recommend L'Ardoise to friends. And strangers.
P.S. Should I warn you that you're going to have to put up with a few non-London restaurant reviews in the coming days? Paris first, Madrid next! But I will try to mix up the reviews in between.
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Posted in France, French, Paris | 4 Comments
Posted by Krista on June 17, 2009
Georgette
29, rue Saint-Georges
Paris, France 75009
Date of Last Visit: Thursday, June 4, 2009
The Victim: Colleague from Paris office
The Damage: Unknown, he paid.
The Background: Every so often, I learn something new about myself. In hindsight, many of these new things are maybe not surprising. But for me, at the time, they’re revelations.
So it was when my co-worker took me out to lunch in Paris. He took me to the little cafe, Georgette, in the 9th. He had heard good things from his co-workers. And I’d generally agree with those good things. But…
The Entrance: Georgette is sunny and open and colorful. It seems to be run by women and a quick look at Zagats confirms that. We grab a seat and a server promptly arrives at our table. She speaks to both of us, but as I can only ask for the check in French, I have no idea what she’s saying.
My colleague looks at me and looks at the menu (he’s holding two: mine, his) and then he looks back at me. He says, “Do you like prawns?” I say “Well, yes, prawns are okay.” (Knowing in the back of my mind that this is France and they will be prawns served still in their shells, which I just am not good with.)
He hands the menus back to the server and it’s done.
It’s done.
He’s ordered my food for me. I haven’t even had a chance to look at the menu. (And while I can’t speak French, I know enough food nouns to be dangerous.) And really, he hasn’t looked at the menu either!
I am seething.
Seething! I don’t even know what I’m having. I have no idea what just transpired. How did this happen?
I ask my colleague if the prawns are going to be served in their shells, and he says, “Maybe. Probably.” And I watch plate after plate come out of the kitchen and indeed, the prawns are served in their shells.
I wouldn’t describe myself as a person who gets angry–tense, yes, angry no. But the wave of anger I felt rushing over me as I thought of all the delicious things on that menu that I would never get to try…arrggghhh. I wanted to poke somebody’s eyes out with the toothpicks that came with our tiny little olives.
The Food: “It” arrives. And it’s fine. The shells on the prawns have already been prepared so they can be removed easily. It’s a fresh summery dish. But honestly, I can’t concentrate on it because I seriously WANT TO SEE THE MENU.
The Verdict: Georgette was nice. But warning: unless it’s Chinese or tapas, don’t order my food for me. Or I’ll poke your eyes out.
P.S. I know this is a terrible “restaurant review.” I also know that I am a terrible person. Sorry.
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Posted in France, French, Paris | 5 Comments
Posted by Krista on April 23, 2009
Celliers Ruinart
4 rue des Crayères
Reims,
51100
France
Date of Last Visit: Saturday, April 12, 2009
The Victim: Dad
The Damage: I forget, exactly. But it wasn’t bad. 25 euros each or something?
The Background: Sometimes, you have no idea what you’re doing, and everything works out just right. So it was when my dad and I visited the cellars of Ruinart.
Because you know…It’s not like I sit around drinking champagne every day, and certainly not Ruinart.
But I had tried and failed to book all the other major champagne houses on Easter Saturday, and I was rejected by each in turn.
Except for Ruinart. They said yes. And in hindsight, I really can’t believe my luck.
The Trip: I have to give a shout out to the TGV that took us to Reims. (Well, it took us to Champagne-Ardenne, and then we had to take a bus to Reims, but still.) The TGV rocks. It’s super-fast and super-quiet. And no matter how much you spend on your train tickets, because it’s France, no one will ever check your tickets. So really, tip for next time: save your euros. (You know I am just kidding. You should not contribute to the impending bankruptcy of any organization. Anyone want to find me SNCF’s annual reports? OK, OK, I think they made a tidy profit. They can skip ticket collection on as many TGVs as they want.) One other thing I learned: the Eurostar is technically a TGV.
Back to the Champagne: Our tour guide was really really lovely. Half French, half Italian. (Napoli.) She’s had Puff Daddy on a tour before (when she used to work at Hennessey). She said he was very nice; she had no idea who he was. She also wore high heels during the ENTIRE tour. Stairs and all. Lots and lots of stairs.
The History: Ruinart is the oldest Champagne house and it now owned by my buddies over at LVMH. (God bless my father for actually pausing outside
Louis Vuitton on the Champs Elysées and asking me if I wanted to stop.) During WW1, the cellars were used to escape the bombing, and a whole city operated underground.
The Champagnes: At the end of the tour, our tour guide brought us to a living-room-like room and proferred about six different champagnes for tasting. The only thing that would have made this tour better was a little sheet of paper that told me what I was tasting. I know I liked the NV R de Ruinart Brut and the NV Rose. And I know my dad, in particular, really liked the NV Rose, which I find interesting given that he’s not a champers kind-of-guy.
The Verdict: I’d go again. And I’d take copious notes. Because it was that good, I’m very sorry I didn’t.
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Posted in Champagne, France, Wine | 6 Comments
Posted by Krista on April 21, 2009
Pierre Hermé
72, Rue Bonaparte
Paris
Date of Last Visit: Friday, April 10th, 2009
The Victim: Dad
The Damage: About 9 euros
The Background: I’m taking dad to Paris and Champagne for Easter. I’ve told him we can do anything he wants. I only have three things I want to do. Pierre Hermé is one of them.
I forget how many stairs there are in Paris. My 68 year old dad is a trooper. We are on and off metros and up and down stairs and then there we are, at Pierre Hermé. I explain to my father that it’s the place with the long line outside.
Everyone in the line is either American or Japanese. It’s funny. A little.
The Entrance: The line moves rather quickly and I explain to my dad that we’re not here for the pastries. We’re here for the macarons. He says he’s had macarons before, but I know he hasn’t. He’s thinking the coconut and chocolate ones that we’d get a lot back on the Island. (The Long one.)
The Service: Sweet. Attentive. I tell the man it’s his choice and I want just six. He loads me up. I wish I could tell you what flavors I had, but I was given no notes. Nor did I take any. So you will have to live with the photos…
And my little purchase…
The Verdict: These were good. I liked them. But you know–they seemed just a little too soft and fragile. I know macarons don’t travel well, but seriously, these died so much earlier than the ones I’ve purchased from Yauatcha and Ladurée. They demanded to be eaten. Immediately.
And I obliged.
The Verdict: Still a good visit in Paris. Smaller than I expected. And the macarons? Well, just a bit too soft.
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Posted in Desserts & Sweets, France, Paris | 7 Comments
Posted by Krista on June 4, 2008
I’ve already told you how much I loved San Sebastian. We were only there for a few hours, but I would gladly eat my way through San Sebastian again. Now let me tell you how much I loved Biarritz. In photos. Firstly, I love escargot anywhere in France. I loved the escargot in Biarritz especially so. I’m sorry we couldn’t convince Matt to try any.
Biarritz endeared itself to me forever with this little sign, seen in the window of a shop called Kickasss that was a short distance away from our escargot location. Remember…”Mustach is not a crime!”
I particularly liked the market in Biarritz. Who wouldn’t???
And then there was the ice cream shop on the main drag, which made all the ice cream on the premises. We went there twice. Only 3 euros for two scoops!
And then there was Blue Cargo, our very lovely Sunday night dinner location after all the wedding festivities were over. Despite consuming my fair share of foie gras over the weekend, I opted for the restaurant’s foie gras as a starter…
And this dish as a main that was heart-breakingly delicious and filling…the spelling escapes me but it’s something like Pennetier? Pannatiere? Do you know? If so, please tell me!! And send me a recipe.
And it was all followed by a macaroon ice cream sandwich with a refreshing bit of raspberry sherbet…I am disappointed in myself for not coming up with macaroon ice cream sandwiches on my own…
Blue Cargo is located at avenue d’Ilbarritz BIDART, 64- Pyrénées Atlantiques (Pays Basque). Ryanair flies from Stansted direct to Biarritz. The airport is about a ten minute drive into town. You should go, both to Biarritz and to Blue Cargo. Don’t forget your moustache. It’s not a crime.
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Posted in Biarritz, France | 2 Comments
Posted by Krista on May 20, 2008
Need I say anything, really? And yes, I did take a bite of the lovely almond-y bit in my Berthillon ice cream sundae before I snapped this photo.
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Posted in France, Paris | No Comments
Posted by Krista on May 19, 2008
Date of Last Visit: May 3rd and 4th
The Victims: Aunt Ursula and Uncle George
The Damage: None.
The Verdict: I will gladly return to Rue Cler. If only we had a pedestrian zone of food shops here in London!
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Posted in France, Paris | 2 Comments
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