this is actually a comment to my craigie street bistrot post, from gabriel (fou):
Um, I think you're eating better in Boston than I am in PARIS! Let me tell you about my dining experience Thursday evening (June 2). I was with a friend from the USA on her last of a three-day visit in Paris (followed by a tour of Italy). We met after lunch and went walking and metroing all over the city. Finally, dying of thirst we stopped at a cafe/restaurant in front of the theater "Café de la Gare" (rue du Temple). There was, to our luck, a spare table in the corner of the cobbled courtyard. The neat thing about the courtyard of the "Café de la Gare" is that while sitting and eating you can watch dance students practice through the windows on all four sides of the building that surrounds the courtyard. We simply got a liter of water (Evian of course), plus I got a kir cassis for an apéritif. The time must have passed extremely fast, and as it was still rather bright, I didn't realize how late it was. It was near 10 p.m., but I wanted to go to this place at Montmartre called the Maison Rose. (I should have known better-- I have tremendously bad luck with this restaurant. This incident made the third time that I tried to dine there without success.) I thought we had burned our chance to dine out, because by the time we realized the Maison Rose had finished it was rather late. Luckily, I remembered passing late one night through Les Halles and seeing a block of restaurants that were still open. My memory served me well. We settled down at the restaurant Au Pied du Cochon, one of the few restaurants in Paris open day and night (jour et nuit). As the name suggests, their specialty is pig feet. And yep, I tried their award-winning specialty. We were seated on the terrace, on a fine night with the sky above and a slow street running next to us. Since my friend doesn't drink alcohol, we simply ordered mineral water. We started by studying the menu meticulously. I felt sorry for the anglophones who have to order from the translations-- they have no idea what they are REALLY ordering. Finally, we were ready. I suggested that my friend order mussels, thinking she shouldn't leave Paris without having the ubiquitous "moules, frites" combination. We would split the entrée, escargots de Bourgogne, since she had never had escargots before. On top of this, I told the waiter that I would order the menu for 18 euros. A half-minute later, we have baguette slices and bottle of mineral water brought to us. The baguette, unfortunately, tasted like it had been bought early that morning, but at least it was "baguette tradition" and not the cheaper, normal baguette that restaurants here (even of the same price as Au Pied du Cochon) often try to pass off on you. A few minutes later, a waiter brought of platter of 6 oysters, which really confused me, because I was expecting escargot. I explained to our first waiter that I hadn't ordered oysters. Well, apparently according to his ear, I had: when I asked for menu at "dix-huit euros" (18€), he thought I asked for the menu (at 23€) with an entrée of "six huitres." This is the worst aspect of the French language: so many words and phrases sound the same, you have to be extremely clear and articulate. But oh well, the oysters were making my eyes water with delight, and my friend had never had oysters before, not in France nor elsewhere. When the waiter had brought the oysters to the table he had also brought a red-wine vinegar sauce with shallots--or perhaps onions. I didn't know what it was for, so I finally asked a French-speaking lady at the table next to me. She and the man across from her explained to me that it was for the oysters, to be spooned over them. She was of the opinion that it's better without the sauce, but he, of the opposite opinion, said I must try it like that once. So I did, and agreed with the lady. Finally came the escargots. My friend liked them much better than the oysters. Next, "les plats." I was disappointed because the mussels my friend received were not what I had envisioned. They were already shelled and didn't come in a pot. In fact I should have paid more attention to the menu: "poêlon de moules" does not mean "casserole de moules." Bah, oh well. My plate--while not disappointing--was very unsettling. French fries and big barbecued pig foot--skin, bones, fat, meat, and all. I was puzzled as to where to begin and what parts to eat. Finally, I explained to our waiter I had never had pig feet before, and he explained that all of it is edible--except the bones, of course. Evidemment. It also came with a mustardy sauce, which I discovered alas rather late in the meal went very well with the foot, better with the foot than the fries. And as the restaurant was French, no ketchup for the fries (I didn't actually ask for any though). Through my months in France, I began to get the impression that only Americans know how to do French fries, but the ones from Au Pied du Cochon were on the American par. I had severe problems eating the pig foot. It was simply to resemblant of an animal body part. And the way in which the skin slid and stuck to the meat and bones discouraged me from the beginning from going further. But I bolstered my intrepidation and forked and knived through nearly all of it, down to the three little piggy-toes. The worst thing about pig feet is that there is so much fat. In the end, I left the fattiest portions of my pig foot uneaten. Nonetheless, when he came to clear the plates from the table, my waiter exclaimed--with a real or imagined sense of congratulation--that I had eaten all of it. In humble-driven honesty, I replied, "Nearly all of it." My friend and I decided to split a crème brulée, since she had never had one before. It was the best crème brulée I have ever had since I was first introduced to crème brulée in coming to France. The secret, I think, was declared on the menu: "à la vanille." The touch of real vanilla (you could even see the tiny black seeds) elegantly and deliciously enhanced the sweet flavor of the crème. Finally, the bill: 56 euros, comprising15 escargots, a 1-L bottle of Badoit mineral water, 6 oysters accompanied by four slices of brown bread, a pan of mussels, a plate of fries and a pig foot, a .33 L bottle of Perrier mineral water, and one crème brulée (and French bread, which goes without saying)--between midnight and two in the morning.
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