Your Friday night French Ro-Com Part 9: "Mr. Low-key"

"Do you have a reservation?" inquired the lovely Madame. It being a last minute decision to dine at this particular place, we were forced to admit that no, we did not. She glanced around the room with in a way that was not at all encouraging, having mastered perfectly the facial expression I like to call "the french furrow" before seating us at an open table right next to where we were standing. Happily demonstrating her knowledge of english, she inquired if we wanted an aperitif. Anticipating the bottle of wine Low was sure to order, I opted for a Badoit. "What a charming little place" Low smiled as we relaxed and perused the room. The small dining room had an elegant yet understated ambiance, a rustic country french feel. Large slate boards on the walls served as menus, with tonights fare written in chalk. An antique sideboard rested at one end of the room, supporting a large vase of fresh flowers. "You are going to love the food" I promised. Madame approached with our water and asked us what we would like for a starter. In France it is customary to have an entrée, followed by a main course (plat), then dessert (which can be cheese or preceded by cheese), followed by a teeny tiny cup of liquid nitrogen (coffee). An typical entrée is usually foie gras, smoked salmon, escargot, or something avocado. Low ordered foie gras with figs, I went for the avocado and tomato salade. Accompanied by a lovely Bordeaux recommended by Madame, we were in foodie heaven! But there was an elephant dining with us - Low was still vexed by the slap in the face he had received from his former partner. "I'm sorry I have been in a bad mood" he apologized with a sigh. He was looking deep into my eyes as was his way. I reached across and put my hand on top of his, and with a squeeze I hoped was reassuring I told him not to worry. I understood completely! But I wasn't too happy with the guy that killed the romance for the day. "Do you know what you are going to do?" I asked, as Low spread a shmere of goose liver on a piece of toast and offered it to me. "Here" he said, "try this. It's fabulous!" (It was.) "Yes, but right now I want to concentrate on you, the wine, and this incredible foie gras. Cheers!" He raised his glass and I met his toast, making a point to look at him in the eye (embracing the french superstition that lack of eye contact during a toast results in 10 years of bad sex). "I was thinking of coming back for the weekend around the 20th" he hinted, "would you like to have dinner?" "The 21st is the "Fete de le Musique!" I exclaimed, "All night long there are bands of every genre in the streets all over Paris, it is one of two nights a year that the metro runs all night without stopping, and parisians wander the streets with bottles of whiskey and wine! You see families, and groups of college kids brazenly smoking reefers, and dixieland jazz, hip hop, and grunge bands side by side on the same block. You would love it!" Low's face lit up with the prospect of peoplewatching, one of his favorite pastimes - and mine. "I have made it a tradition to kick off my birthday with the Fete de le Musique" I said. "It's your birthday that weekend?" he asked excitedly, "Then I am going to take you to dinner at l'Ami Louis! That is, if we can get reservations. It is impossible, and even when you have one, they may not honor it once you have arrived! I am going to try though. You will love it, it's fabulous!" Smiling, he raised his glass once again, and I basked in the glow of a promising birthday. "And you will love the fete" I said, "It's one of the few times you will see parisians display a sense of collective joy!" The figurative elephant had wandered away, and we laughed and drank, and shared death by chocolate for dessert. It was nice to spend time with someone who seemed to genuinely enjoy my company, without the pressure of "should I" or "shouldn't I". I knew we would get there in good time. Despite the issue with his business partner, it had been a good day. The matinée had been spectacular, dinner was ecstacy, and it was comfortable walking arm in arm under the stars after dinner. We found a taxi, and giving me a long, sweet kiss full of promise Low said goodnight. He had a scathing letter to write! Join me next week for the "Fete de le Musique", dinner at a very exclusive restaurant, and a hot summer night with Low on "Your Friday night French Ro-Com". A bientot!

Your Friday night French Ro-Com Part 8: "Mr. Low-key"

Searching for an answer to the age old question, "What am I going to wear?" I emptied half of my closet and had clothes strewn all over the bed. Mother Nature had been fickle all weekend, in a sunny mood one moment and threatening to cry tears of rain in the next. I wonder if men go through the same agonizing process before a date? I decided on a wild pair of Cavalli pants and 4 inch heels, praying for enough rain to nix a long walk around town after the matinée. I was excited to see the show, and excited to see "Low"! I was hoping to keep my emotions at bay however during the performance. I always get all weepy at the theatre when the lights dim, the curtain rises, and the overture begins to play - who knows why? Plus, the score we would be hearing is very moving and always makes me cry (in a good way). I hate crying in front of anyone, I just hoped I wouldn't make any weird snuffling noises in front of Low! This was only our second "official" date after all. I made sure to put a mini pack of mouchoirs in my purse and caught the 13:05 to Paris. "Wow, fabulous pants!" Low praised my fashion choices appreciatively. "You look great." He welcomed me with a light kiss on the lips and offered his arm. "Shall we go?" We strolled arm in arm past Galeries Lafayette, pausing to admire the unique window displays of this famous department store. The streets were completely deserted, all the shops in the neighborhood being closed on Sundays and its residents indoors having dejeuner (lunch) with family. On Monday morning the streets and sidewalks would be teeming with activity, but for now we had the city to ourselves as we zigzagged our way toward the theatre Mogador, catching up on the weeks activities. "I had a good meeting with our backer" Low told me, "and we begin casting next week!" His London project was taking shape and he was obviously excited. "Excuse me" Low went to will call and picked up our tickets. "Would you like a program?" (5 bonus points) Souvenir in hand, we made our way to our seats. "Here, you should sit on the aisle" he offered generously. I knew the cast would enter through the aisles of the theatre so I awarded Low another 5 points for his thoughtfulness. I was already feeling little goosebumps of anticipation, not unlike the feelings I knew the actors were experiencing as they do before every performance. We settled in and looked around the theatre as the audience tricked in and took their seats. Low was perusing the program, paying special attention to the page of credits devoted to the production; director, choreographer, etc. "Huh" he grunted. "Did you find your name?" I asked naively, half joking. "No, it's been removed" he answered quietly. My eyebrows shot upward off my head. "So, you had something to do with this show?" It was beginning to dawn on me that Mr. Low-key was Mr. Big Time. "I produced it with my partner" he confessed. "And for some reason, he has taken my name off the credits". He was obviously pissed off. Just then the lights dimmed and the show began. I choked up as usual, tears welling in my eyes. I turned my head away from Low hoping he wouldn't notice, under the pretext of watching the cast move down the aisle toward the stage. The music was strong and beautiful, it was a brilliantly conceived entrance to an impressive production. And my date was one of the geniuses who had made all it happen years before! I was doubly impressed by how modest he was, all things considered. I remembered how he said "I play in the theatre a little, it's not really work" the first night I met him. He did more than play, I call tell you that! Soon it was intermission, and as we moved toward the lobby he offered me a drink. Always the gentleman he was going through the motions, but I could see he was very unhappy. "Are you enjoying the show?" he wanted to know. "It's an incredible production" I gushed, "the staging is nothing less than brilliant!" It was true - there hadn't been anything quite like it before or since. Low agreed. "I'm glad you're enjoying it" he smiled, but I could tell he was putting on a brave face. He had more important things on his mind- like the scathing letter he would send to his former partner. "Are you okay?" I asked sympathetically. I was feeling his pain. He nodded and offered a weak smile. "Let's go back in" he said as he took my arm and guided us back to our seats. I could hear the gears spinning in his head over the music as he mentally prepared to confront the offending party. We held hands during the second act, and I tried cheering him up with a charming smile now and then, but I could sense he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there and put his blackberry to work. Who could blame him? The show was incredible though, and ended with a standing ovation. "You should be very proud" I told Low, "This was really a stroke of genius!" His vexation aside for a moment, he deservedly basked in the glow of the applause of an appreciative audience, this was his baby! We exited the theatre, and as we strolled along enjoying the fresh air he told me the backstory of how this production came to be. "Are you hungry?" he asked, "let's find a fabulous place and have a really good bottle of wine." "I know just the place" I said, "I just have to figure out how to get there from here!" I had a charming, quiet little bistro in mind, and I knew the food would cheer him up. Join us for dinner next friday and find out if a) the cuisine at Le Petit Pontoise makes everything all better, b) Low gets smashed and drunk dials his partner, or c) the kitchen catches on fire and we are forced to evacuate the restaurant!

Bon Appétit: Part Deux

The choices for dining in Paris can be overwhelming. With thousands of restaurants in the city, dozens of guidebooks the proprietaires pay to advertise in, and the dreaded tourist traps waiting to lure the innocent, your hard earned dollar is easily frittered away. It is the same for parisians, one must choose wisely! I would like to recommend a few of my favorite places to you. From moderately priced to a special occasion, I have never been disappointed. For Italian comfort home cooking, and the best "mafia cake" in Paris visit Mario and Maria at La Trattoria. Located in the 15th arrondissment, it is a 5 minute walk from metro ligne 12, arret "Convention", address: 155 rue de la Convention. Open for dinner from 7:00 p.m. until 10:30 p.m monday through saturday, closed sunday. The pizza "margherita" is divine, 9 euro for a medium size pie. It is customary in France for each person to order their own pizza, (but it is possible to share). The average cost for a generous main course meal is 12.50 euro, the house red is good, and you MUST have the tiramisu for dessert! The decor is warm and homey, casual, and unpretentious. No reservation neccesary, takeout available. 01 48 28 87 86. Minimum english spoken. Chez Janou 2 rue Roger Verlomme (near Bastille and the Place du Vosges) reservations recommended, 01 42 72 28 41. Popular with parisians and the international set alike, it is crowded every night from 8:30 until 11:00. Noisy and chaotic, it is a typical bistro complete with tiny tables crowded together and plenty of posters that pass for decor on the walls. The staff is friendly, all speak decent english, and are literally running three hours a night. They have the best olives I have ever had in my life, served as appetizer to keep the savages at bay, and if you like mussels, Chez Janou is the place to have them! The moules gratinée and spinach salad with warm goat cheese (salad epinard avec chévre chaud) are excellent starters for sharing, and I always enjoy the entrecote (delicious here). When it is time for dessert, chocolate mousse is offered in a ginormous bowl, you take as much as you please with an equally large spoon.....decadent! The average main course is 17 euro, 9 for entrées. BAM bar à manger the cuisine here is upscale but not pretentious, well thought out and executed, and the menu varies constantly. This is one place I recommend the prix-fixte menu. The chef offers an entrée, plat, and dessert for 30 euro per person, wine not included. I usually have a glass of the house Bordeaux, (verre de vin rouge) which is quite nice, at 5 euro. Located in Chatelet, the neighborhood is lively and fun. The address: 13 rue des Lavandières Ste. Opportune, metro Chatelet. Reservations recommended: 01 42 21 01 72. The friendly owners and staff speak english fluently. Open for dinner at 8 p.m. Le Petite Pontoise very delicious, very intimate, reservations a must! The foie gras with dates is to die (but I've promised to swear off foie gras), the lamb chops OMG.....a fabulous wine list, friendly and well trained staff. If you have one special meal in Paris, have it at Le Petite Pontoise. The ambience is country french gentleman-quiet money, but Madame welcomes you with a smile when you present yourself with dignity. After dinner, treat yourself to a walk along the sparkling river Seine toward the cathedral Notre Dame, just a stones throw away. Located at 9 rue Pontoise, metro Maubert Mutualité. 01 43 29 25 20. What to avoid: As previously mentioned, I have made a number of bad choices during my tenure as an expat in Paris. In "Bon Appétit" (part one) I discussed the pitfalls of the tourist trap cafés, but here are a few more examples of where not to eat. Chain restaurants are worldwide, a plague of mediocrity and predictibility. Let's face it, they're just plain bad! In Paris I would avoid Leon de Brussels (with their giant plastic bedpan shell depositorys and funky fish), Pizza Pino (really bad food and exploited immigrant workers), the Indiana Bar and Grill (when in France don't go for Texmex), and McDonalds because it's, well, McDonalds. Chéz Clemènt has good mashed potatoes, but I can see no other reason to dine there. The Hippopotamus has two things going for it, they actually grasp the concept of grilling a steak over a flame (instead of the traditional frying pan method), and their coctails pack a wollop! Other than that it is ordinary and expensive. The entrecote at Chez Janou is far better. Spend your vacation dollars wisely on the best food possible, and Bon Appétit!