Blend Burger

Clearly, burgers are all the rage in Paris now.

Which I find to very contradictory to Parisian cuisine as a whole, since Parisians seem to hate Americans, but have no qualms with devouring their standard food fare on a regular basis.

A couple of months ago, I got word of the supposedly 'best burger in Paris' (as they all seem to claim), to be found at Blend in Le Sentier.

It was that typical situation of a very hyped up burger that unfortunately, did not deliver compared to such sky high expectations.

But yes, the burgers are good. Very good. Just not 'the best'. (Don't you find that anytime people tell you 'its the best' you secretly hope for it to be crap just so you can prove them wrong?)

The buns are freshly baked. The prices are reasonable. The beers are local. The sweet potato fries come wrapped in a little cone of wax paper, and even the cheese on the cheeseburger is a secret combination of yellow and white cheddar brought in from England, according to the waiter. Though I couldn't help overhear one Parisienne sitting next to me complaining about the cheese on the cheeseburger being too cheesy. She clearly had no idea what to expect of cheddar cheese, being more accustomed to the processed orange cheese that comes in an individual plastic wrapper. The burger is not too big, not too little, but perfect for a gal like me who needs to feel stuffed and happy without feeling like someone is going to have to roll me home.

And then there's the meat. The meat is melt-in-your-mouth tender and buttery, perfectly cooked, and apparently sourced from Yves-Marie Le Bourdonnec, the same butcher as the Beef Club, Paris's uber exclusive and off the radar temple to all things beefy (Which will also happen to be the subject of my next post, so stay tuned).

Even though you might have to wait half in hour in the rain just to get in to this tiny broom closet of a restaurant, all the staff are clearly very proud of what they do, and very happy to be doing it. A tip of the hat to the workers at Blend, who managed to elevate the cookie-cutter bistro burger to whole other level.

So all in all, not the best burger in Paris, but still an excellent specimen of creative simplicity, and a great reminder of the never ending paradox that is Parisian food culture. 


Blend Hamburger Gourmet
http://blendhamburger.com/
44 rue d'Argout
75002 Paris

Candelaria

Ok fine! I'll do it! I'll jump on the bandwagon and write about Candelaria.

I first went to this taco joint last year, having read a review of it by David Leibovitz. Imagining that it must be insanely popular, I waited for 4 pm on Sunday to attempt getting a table for 2 for lunch. Turns out, not a problem. Although they only have a few seats at the bar and one table, we somehow managed to find a spot, drink cold Mexican beers and devour delicious, fresh, home made soft tacos.

While happily munching away at the bar, I had noticed some people coming into the resto, walking through a door in the back and disappearing. And its only when those Mexican beers made nature call that I discovered where those people were going.

Hidden away behind this tiny taco joint is a beautiful cocktail bar. One minute you're eating Mexican street food in a minuscule diner style taqueria, the next, you're in a hidden bar that is not only beautifully decorated but also serves the most amazing and most original cocktails. And I go to Le China regularly so I know what I'm talking about.

My favorite cocktail was with chili pepper infused tequila, cucumbers, coriander and other strange yummy things floating aroung. This week, seeing as it was an early lunch, I had their version of a Bloody Mary, which included a scoop of avocado and a handful of coriander in the shaker, along with home-made chipotle pepper infused tomato juice. Heaven (and a full meal) in a tall glass.

Note: The picture is blurry because the drink is strong, as it should be.

But go there anytime past 7pm and you're going to wait half an hour to get a drink and you will find yourself squashed to the wall by too-cool bobo hipsters and Greek/American tourists. Its a strange mix.

Candelaria
52 rue Saintonge, 3rd arrondisement
http://www.candelariaparis.com/
Tacos: between 3-3.50E per taco
Cocktails: 10-12 euros. 

Empanadas & Helados

So we all know Candelaria. 

The ultra hip taco slash hidden cocktail bar in the 11th arrondisement. The kind of place that serves delicious Mexican street food and has only one table because, frankly, they're just that cool. 'The harder it is to get the food, the more you want it' seems to be the motto of the latest up and coming Parisian food joints. 

So it's only natural that we all battle our way through the crowds and wait in the cold rain on the street for a scrumptious yet slightly overpriced taco. 

But waiting on the sidewalk has its advantages, and sometimes if you follow the mouth watering smells coming from around the corner, you might find something delicious.

As the name says, this place serves empanadas and ice-cream. And while I didn't try the ice-cream, the empanadas were definitely worth a tip of the hat. 

But even more noteworthy is the entree, a compilation of raw, marinated Argentinian meat, topped with tiny morsels of red onion, celery, avocado and fresh coriander. At the staggering price of 9 euros for 5 minuscule slices, you would be surprised how quickly you forget how much you're paying once you pop one of these little heavenly slivers into your mouth. 

 

The empanadas were really good too, although I don't think they merit the price tag of 4 euros per piece. Try the meat one and cheese and onion one. 

Fun fact: These guys have decided to get with the program and follow what everyone seems to be doing at the moment in Paris : food trucks. They have the first Argentinian food truck, El Carrito, that serves up street food throughout the cobblestoned roads of Paris. 

Classico Argentino- Empanadas & Helados

217, rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine, 75011M°: Faidherbe-Chaligny

Tél. 01 56 06 95 14

http://clasico-argentino.com/fr

Le Mal Barre

The search for the perfect Parisian burger has been long, and it has been hard. I've followed food guides, friends' advice, recent trends, facebook tips, and sometimes just simply my nose. I've had to sacrifice many things to find it; just this week I was forced to eat four cheeseburgers, hoping that one of them would be 'the one'.

So I was quite surprised to find it while searching for a good spot to have a long, languid Sunday lunch.

Le Mal Barre, which is actually advertised as 'Blini's Bar', serves only two things: burgers and dessert. Dessert is either cupcakes or cheesecake, and that's it.

Apart from the fact that it took ridiculously, severely long for our food to come, the burgers were heaven. Ranging from the classic double steak, to the 'chick mex' chicken and guacamole burger, to a Japanese style teriyake and shitake burger, and even a Southwestern one with magret de canard and cantal cheese. Simple, not too big, well seasoned, interesting combinations, and a nice personal spin off on ketchup are all very very good reasons to go here. And the mere 10 euro price tag is another one.

Considering they just opened 3 days ago, I would recommend going only if you have a lot of time to spare. But its worth the wait.

Le Mal Barre
47 Rue Lucien Sampaix
75010 Paris

Rino

In Paris, it's hard to be on top of the food scene. But when a new bistro opens that wins the FOODING 2010 du Meilleur Bistrot d'auteur, it's difficult to not notice it. 


On a sunny Saturday afternoon, Rino has two tables teetering in the middle of the sidewalk, which chef Giovanni Passerini, (whose nickname I'm assuming is Rino?) cites as a reason for why he would never be awarded a Michelin star. But not that he wants one; he doesn't like the clientele that comes with the stars, or the changes that it would require him to make to his intimate yet relaxed bistrot.  


The kitchen is open to the dining room, allowing curious clients such as myself to annoyingly stare over the counter, trying to decipher what exactly is going on....but it's hard to tell. I see some bottles of milk from Normandy being used, but I can't tell on what. The menu is incredibly limited -in a good way- and milk doesn't seem to be a blatantly obvious ingredient in any of the dishes. Intriguing.


But once the food arrives you stop wondering about what's inside of it and just hold on for the ride as an explosion of bizarrely matched flavors come together beautifully, both on your plate and in your mouth. You don't have much choice at lunch; you have one starter, two main dishes and one dessert. The menu changes daily, which is always a good sign. But the combinations are odd, to say the least. My starter consisted of carrot soup, lamb meatballs, salted fish and endives--originally I thought that I had a choice of one of these many ingredients, but only after asking the charming waitress/sommelier Francesca did I realize that in fact no, it's one dish, a jumbled mix and match of ingredients and flavors. I was struggling to understand how all this could come together, but I was astounded that in fact it did work  so amazingly well. 

Hidden underneath the leaves are lamb meatballs spiced with a middle eastern flavor

The choice of main dish was either mullet or roast chicken, both served with asparagus, cabbage and a strange green pesto-looking sauce, which of course was delicious. The veggies were al dente, the chicken was marvellously cooked (both crispy and tender) and the fish was soft and delicate.

Mullet

Roast chicken

The dessert was another mix and match of yogurt ice cream, caramelized pecans and hazelnuts and raspberry. And as usual, the wonderful wine had rendered me too lazy to take a picture. 


This was very creative cuisine. Simple, relaxed, delicious, seasonal and surprisingly affordable. But nevertheless it was food that challenges you, that forces you to re-think certain combinations that you would have never thought possible. After lunch, you can have a little chat with the chef. He is very approachable and  happy to talk to you while he smokes his cigarette outside after the lunch service has died down. 



Rino
46, rue Trousseau 
75011 Paris 
tel. 01 48 06 95 85

Food Design: Aventures Sensibles Exhibition

Hidden in an alley off of the Rue du Faubourg St Antoine, right around the corner from Bastille, is Le Lieu Design.

From the 9th of March to the 30th of April, Marc Brethillot, one of the most prominent French food designers, and funnily enough, my student, has created an exhibition that gives us an introduction to all things edible and yet functional at the same time.

It's kind of hard to understand what this exhibition is really about; personally I know nothing about food design. But there are some really cool things to see, and I think that's basically the point. To see fun food fare that either brings an artistic side to food, or a culinary side to art.

For example:

These are big rocks that have been dipped in various liquids. I think it's supposed to be about the geological connection to food. To me, it looks like bread dipped in olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

Then there are these beautifully decorated crabs and clams, by a tatoo artist I beleive, who wants to create a theme restaurant that 'tatoos' your food according to your personality (gothic, ethnic, tribal etc)

This is a really creepy piece that explores the connection between food and taxidermy; the head is preserved but underneath is a 'dish' cooked with various parts of the rabbit.

They also did a bird

Then there are simply some very beautifully decorated classics, like chocolate 

And colorful mexican popcorn 

And beautifully colored and shaped butter

There was also some cheese that was made out of plastic (I didn't even realize until the guide told me so)

And a vegetable puree that looks like a psychadelic pile of sh*t

There was spice infused chocolate shaped like little tajines

And other pretty things

This is fruit paste

All in all, its a cool show, even though it's kind of hard to really get what it's about. But the pleasure of going to this exhibition is that it makes you feel like a kid again, excited by the bright colors and different textures and designs and the almost perfectly plastic looking food (which turns out to actually be plastic). You find yourself thinking that the most beautiful pieces are definitley edible (nope) and that the ugliest ones are fake (wrong again). It challenges our notion of how food is presented and what it can be turned in to. But that's about as profound as I'm going to get here.

The Day I Met My Idol (Lunch at Guy Savoy-3 Michelin Stars)

On the morning of my birthday, my hero called me.

And I missed it.

But by a crazy turn of events, a good journalist friend of mine was interviewing Guy Savoy on the day of my birthday, about the new restauraunt that he is going to open. She told him that she has a friend who adores him, she told him it was my birthday, and he called me to wish my happy birthday while I was in the shower and couldn't hear my phone. Shit.

Long story short, Mr. Savoy ended up inviting me and my friend to dine in his restaurant on Thursday March 3^rd at 12.30pm. And by invited, I mean, invited.

Apart from the loss of sleep, the total panic and the hours spent getting ready, we managed to get ourselves to the restaurant in one piece, and without tripping on our high heels (my ankles were shaking so much from the nerves).

You enter the restaurant and you are in a different world.

About 7 people are waiting for you, one holds your purse while another takes off your jacket. They give you back your purse and escort you to the dining room, all the while welcoming you with kind words and smiles.

You are seated, and seated means that someone pushes in your chair, fluffs a fresh cloth napkin and lays it on your lap. In two seconds, a man arrives with a champagne trolley, with about 5 different bottles of champagne on ice. “Can I tempt you with a glass of bubbles before you begin your tasting?”, he asks, as if we would say no. “Mmmmm, yeah, sure, why not,” we say nonchalantly, trying to pretend like we fit in and are totally used to this kind of thing. We try the house champagne, a bottle with Mr. Savoy's name on it. Marketing? Oh yes. Good? Oh absolutely.

By the time we have taken our first sip of champagne, the maitre d'hotel arrives, telling us discreetly that everything has been taken care of by Mr. Savoy, who has prepared a special menu for us. “Is there anything you don't eat or don't like?” Nope. “You can do whatever you want with us,” we tell them. “Tres bien mes dames. I hope you like surprises,” he says. Why yes sir, yes I do.

The maitre d'hotel leaves, and in another two seconds, the bread guy comes. Yes, apparently there is a bread guy- a guy whose job is to match everything you eat with a different type of bread. And he too has a trolley, with about 10 different types of beautiful, brown, white, round, long, hard, soft, rustic, refined breads. He gives us a selection to start with, pain au sarrasin, ciabatta a l'huile d'olive, and 5 cereales. He says that they will match our meals, which we still dont know what they are.

He leaves, and two waiters replace him, each holding a silver toothpick with a triangle of finely sliced bread, and a circle or two of foie gras with vinaigrette a la truffe. Just so that we have something to soak up all the champagne with. The waiters wait for us to eat our skewers, take our toothpicks and leave. (They come back about two more times in the course of the next 5 sips of champagne.)

In their place, the sommelier arrives.

“For your lunch, I was thinking of two whites and two reds, how does that sound?” Well yes, that sounds absolutely wonderful! Go ahead, enchant us.

And at this moment, this pivotal, life-changing moment, Guy Savoy arrives at our table.

We stand up, greet him, and I realize that I cannot speak French when I'm nervous. I mumble incoherently, smile, nod and laugh, hopefully at all the right moments. He leaves, warning us that the somelier is quite the seducteur with his wines (which is very true), I sit down and almost faint from panic. A waiter arrives by my side with a new napkin, since I dropped mine without even realizing, and folds it gracefully on my lap. Unecessary, but boy do I feel important right now.

The champagne is flowing, and the nerves start to subside. The first course arrives.

An asparagus veloute, with some miniscule funky little crunchy veggies at the bottom and a very interesting citrusy pepper sprinkled on top, served in an espresso glass. Next to the glass is another espresso glass but upside down, which is then lifted by a waiter to reveal a miniture cabbage leaf stuffed with poached lobster. Ca commence bien.

Mr. Savoy comes back to our table to have a little chat, telling us not to be too serious and too enjoy ourselves. I should point out that my friend and I were trying really hard to control our nervous giggles, trying to be mature and elegant and ladylike, but instead we were feeling like two children who have been taken to the toy store and told that they can have anything they want. Savoy sees this, and tells us to indulge. So indulge we do.

The second course arrives, along with Mr. Savoy who is keeping an eye on us, making sure we're happy and smiling. Homard reconstitue en carapace, jus au corail and like a crunchy almost sweet lobster wafer. The best part is that its served in a big bowl, and they pour a liquid on the bowl which makes the entire thing errupt into smoke - like one of those chinese ponds with the black crystals in them. We squeal, and our breath blows the smoke all around us. Its very, very pretty. And to top it off, the mixture of the smoke with the liquid hidden under our plate makes the sound of bubbling water, just like a zen garden. Its relaxing, delicious, visually beautiful and playful at the same time. On the side, a lobster bouillon with a buttery mouse is served, to be sipped while you eat the lobster.

The third course, and probably the best, was a classic poached egg, on top of a puree of topinambour, and topped with an incredibly generous helping of truffle slivers, grated at your side by the maitre d'hotel. “I gave you a little bit more than usual,” he says. I can't see the egg any more, all I see if truffle. Another waiter comes by to ask if he can please pierce your egg yolk. “Why yes, yes you may.” The bright yellow oozes out and melts into the white of the yolk and the black of the tuffle. Its gorgeous, and the combination of the garlickly topinambour puree with the egg yolk and the truffle is absolutely amazing, such a surprising combination of flavors that create such a beautiful smooth blend. Perhaps my only complaint of the entire meal is that there was too much truffle, and what kind of ridiculous complaint is that?

The wine for the second and third course was a stunning Riesling 'Grand Cru Hengst”, 2001 from Domaine Josmeyer. I just googled it and it's 70 euros per bottle. And worth every single penny.

For the fouth course, we had the rouget fish, slit down the spine, propped up and opened, stuffed with spinach, garlic and a mix of beautifully sauteed mushrooms and a mousse-like orange sauce. Normally I'm not really a surf and turf kind of girl, but this was unimaginable. The garlickly mushrooms, the perfectly cooked fish, the delicious unidentifiable sauce (which I'm sure also probably had truffle in it), everything just came together beautifully. And they even come by and give you extra sauce.

At this point we had decided to completely let loose, and were dipping our bread in our sauce and licking our fingers. We were drinking a white Hermitage “Chante Alouette” 2007 by Michel Chapoutier.

I was really hoping to get their signature artichoke soup with black truffle and parmesan slivers, and luckily, it was course number five. Served with the most buttery brioche you could ever imagine, stuffed with mushrooms and slathered with even more fresh truffle butter. Its literally death by truffle. And again, the very kind waitress who could see us melting into little puddles of happy tipsy girls came by to give us another brioche, and said that the chef recommends we dip it in the soup. So off we dipped.

The sixth course was a fillet mignon of veal wrapped in paper thin slivers of steamed asparagus (filet de veau “cuit en asperges”, and a piece of poitrine confit with pepper and lemon and some sort of strange but delicious green leaf underneath. It was served with a lemon sabayon with crunchy veal tongue hidden underneath in a little espresso cup on the side. Guy really likes his espresso cups.

At this point we switched to a 2001 red Pomerol from Chateau Bellegrave. And whoever said that they can't taste the difference between a 10 euro wine and a 70 euro wine was an idiot. I assure you, you can taste the difference.

Finally, it was over. Or so we thought.

The cheese trolley came by, which happened to be steered by the bread guy. I guess its only natural that the bread guy is also the cheese guy. There were probably about 40 cheeses, and he could tell you every tiny detail about every one of them. You looked, asked, pointed and were served. I had some cheese that I already knew, an Ossy Iraty that was a little too strong for me, but a delicious Selles sur Cher and a new favorite and not well known cheese called Rond de Lusignan from the Poitou- Charentes region, which was soft and mild and yet full flavored all at once. All this washed down with a 2009 Saumur Blanc called “L'Insolite” from the Domaine des Roches Neuves that was so surprising, one of those wines that smells one way, tastes another, and has a totally different after taste.

Now we were wondering if we were going to be served dessert. It would have been totally acceptable to stop now, I mean, cheese is dessert in France, and we were bursting. But a table of boring businessmen next to us were eating this crazy concoction that looked so beautiful, that I just had to ask if it was their famous coconut sorbet. “No, its the apple one. That's what Mr. Savoy thought he would serve you for dessert.” Wonderful, we say.

The waiter looks at me. “Do you like coconut,” he asks. “Yes, yes I do,” I say. “Do you want the coconut desert?” I say nothing, I just look at the waiter. “Tres bien madame.” In two minutes, the coconut desert arrives. And it is by far the most magnificent desert I have ever tasted. It was such a rare combination of so many different textures but yet the flavors were all the same. There were slivers of thinly julienned coconut that had been marinated in coconut milk, with a crunchy coconut crisp, gooey little orbs of Taiwanese coconut flavored tapioca, and crunchy coconut crushed ice. It was velvety and yet crispy, warm and yet cold, and served with beautiful paper thin wafers of coconut. This dessert was my heaven. I almost asked for another one.

And again, we thought that now, finally, the lunch was over. Wrong again.

In fact, just because I had asked for the coconut dessert did not mean that we were not getting the apple one. So dessert number two arrived, with the same principle: crunchy paper thin wafers of Granny Smith apples, a green apple sorbet and like a nutty chestnut crumble at the bottom. We saw them bringing it in, and one had a candle on it. “Oh, look, its someone's birthday,” said my friend. Turns out, the dessert was for me. I was the one with the birthday. Mr. Savoy had actually remembered that it was my birthday, and he brought me the best birthday 'cake' anyone could ever ask for. I blew out my candle and made a wish.

My birthday coconut candle

He came back to our table, and at this point I was able to start producing words again. We chatted, we thanked him about a million times, we gave him a present of some very special spices which he promptly took to the kitchen and told his head chef that they would be experimenting with at tonights dinner service. We followed him to the kitchen, took a picture together where he boasted to all the other chefs, “you see, this is what happens when you become a great chef, you get the pleasure of having two young ladies at your side.” Imagine that, Guy Savoy saying that we were his pleasure. I really dont see how the pleasure of hugging two girls can compare to the pleasure of the 12 life-changing courses that he offered us, but I guess its all about perspective.

We returned to our table, finished our 2008 Muscat du Cop Corse from Domaine Leccia, and once again, I made the “mistake” of asking a question. “In the video on your site I saw a chocolate orb that magically melted. What is it? Why? How....? What!?” The waiter explains that it's an orb of chocolate stuffed with banana and passion fruit sorbet, then topped with a hot mango and aloe-vera coulis and thats what makes it melt. I smile and thank him for his kind explanation. In 5 minutes, he comes back with one for me, and the “Noir” dessert for my friend, which consists of a chocolate biscuit with almond paste, infused with lime juice, cardamom and black pepper, served with a bitter chocolate sorbet. Bear in mind, this is dessert number 3. Ask and you shall receive I guess. We eat, we almost pop, and finally we ask for coffee. But no, its not over yet.

My melting orb

                                            My friend's Noir dessert 

With the coffee comes the dessert trolley (this is trolley number three), called the “tastes of my childhood.” It contains:

-creme caramel

-chocolate mousse

-rice pudding

-prunes in mulled wine

-rice pudding with pink pecans

-chocolate tart

-strawberry rhubarb tart (heaven!)

-different types of marshmallows

-chocolate and vanilla macarons

-almond shortbread cookies

-home made chocolates with little unidentifiable things on it

-plus like ten different sorbets, of which I tried the blood orange sorbet to go with the chocolate mousse, and then the bergamot sorbet with black pepper just because hell, at this point, why not.

This is what our table looked like

And then, finally, it was over.

We were the last people in the dining room. This lunch lasted from 12.30-4.45pm. With a total of 11 or 12 courses, 5 wines, 6 breads, 4 cheeses for me and about 7 for my friend, 3 desserts, two coffees and a million little sweets to nibble on while you drink your coffee.

We thanked them about a million times, were given our coats, and stepped outside into the crisp Parisian winter sun, feeling for the first time like a real princess.

I think that the waiters and Mr. Savoy could see that we were really just dying of pleasure and were unable to contain ourselves, laughing and staring at everything with wide eyes and open mouths. And in the end, I think that's why he invited us: the place was packed with fat, old, boring businessmen, and we were the only people there who were totally focused on the food, having completely given ourselves over to them. They guided us through 12 phenomenal courses, we listened to everything they told us to do, from the order that we should eat our cheeses in, to the breads, to the wines, everything. And I'm sure that they are probably sick of these boring people, who don't seem to be visibly enjoying their food. The waiters were happy to see us dipping our bread in our sauce and asking questions and mmmming and ooooohing and ahhhhhing and laughing. It's too bad that it was a once in a lifetime experience, because I could really get used to this.