Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Le Cuisine: The JJR Café



As I have mentioned in previous articles, dining in Paris is frought with hazards - from overpriced slop marketed to unsuspecting tourists, to overpriced crap served to Parisians vying for the best location sur le terrace, and one must "choose carefoolie zee restaurant" as my friend Madame M insists. Sometimes you find the best places quite by accident, as happened to me just the other day. It was not my intention to have dinner out as I hopped the train into Paris, and made my way toward Gare du Nord and the Indian Quarter. I was on a mission - I have had a craving for Mexican food lately (being from Southern California), and decided to learn how to make tortillas from scratch, (the availability of quality ingredients is highly questionable here.) I read gobs of info on the subject, most of it concerning a handy little tool called a "tortilla press". I was considering ordering one, until I discovered the shipping alone would be a cool $75.00! It was then the proverbial light bulb appeared over my head, perhaps a similar tool is used to make flatbread for Indian cuisine! The metro pulled into Gare du Nord, and I wound my way through the maze of underground tunnels, following the signs toward sortie Rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis. Once on the street I immediately felt the vibe of the neighborhood, a microchasm of inner city clichés. A small gang of teenaged bad boys lounged on the railings near the entrance to the metro, smoking cigarettes with an attitude and leering at everything in a skirt. An elderly Indian woman in a sari of saffron and purple silk pushed a stroller with her grandchildren in tow, shops full of traditional clothing, brightly colored and boasting a very "special price" lined the street. Little markets crammed full of strange looking roots and deadly chili peppers were my destination, in search of the elusive tortilla press (or a reasonable facsimile). The air was rich with the aroma of exotic spices, and the strains of Indian disco wafted through the air from a little shop selling Bollywood style DVD's. Women were at the market buying fresh ingredients for the evening meal, while men were gathered in little groups outside the neighborhood barber and the tabaconist. I marveled at the prices, it is much cheaper to buy spices here, and you can find other exotic ingredients you cannot in a supermarket. I did not find a press, (there was a similar item that pressed and cooked, but I was not convinced) but I found my appetite - all these aromatic ingredients on the shelves were having a Pavlovian effect on my psyche! It had been a long time since I have had Indian cuisine, the reason being the usual restaurants are mediocre beyond description. I hit the pavement in search of the most interesting prospect. There were any number of possibilities, little dives with pre-prepared takeout in a glass case, and two or three tiny tables squeezed in along one wall. Then I noticed what appeared to be the neighborhood "haunt". If you want a good meal anywhere in the world, eat where the locals do, I always say! A friendly waiter greeted me with a smile and offered me a seat, placing a large sheet of green waxed paper on the chipped formica table to serve as a tablecloth. I was the only "gringo" the the place, and I was eyed with curiosity by the regulars. A little girl stared at me with big brown eyes and a bright smile as she sipped her lassi, and I caught a whiff of sambal oleck that made my eyes and my mouth water. I ordered a samosa as a starter, and have never had better. People wandered in and out, laughing with the cook, shaking hands with my waiter Nazim, stopping in for a quick snack of parota garnished with chutney, or a refreshing beer. It was noisy, and divey, and fabulous! I had chicken vindaloo that was to die, which was served with a generous portion of rice. A piece of nan and a mango lassi completed the meal, and l'addition was less than 15 euros. The food tasted like I had wandered into Grandma's house, and she was cooking as she had been all her life! The JJR Café is located at 187 rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis, metro lignes 2, 4, or 5, RER B or D. Service continué 11/11.

No comments:

Post a Comment