The other day, I had to check my privilege in a major way. While speaking to some new acquaintances about my job – literally “food writer in Paris” – I was faced with the statement: “Wow – you must eat in such great restaurants!”
At which point I started complaining.
(Oh, look, I am French.)
But I must admit: I’ve gotten bored of dining out in Paris, where each new opening feels like it’s rehashing the old, where the small plates cycle feels exhausted, where ingredients, as top-notch as they are, have somehow taken over the role once held by technique. As someone who knows how to cook (and has access to great ingredients and a full wine cellar), I don’t feel the need to dine out unless it’s something I can’t make (like pizza cooked in an oven with the heat of Hades) or couldn’t be bothered to make (like lamb vindaloo).
And then there’s that third category: the dishes that I never would have thought of making. Those are the dishes that have become so elusive to me of late, and those are the dishes I found thanks to one of my dearest friends at Chefs à Table.
This restaurant’s evening menu is of the tasting variety – a 55-euro prix fixe (which can accommodate vegetarians no problem). I’ll definitely be returning to sample it now that I’ve dug into the lunch menu, frankly a steal at 25 euros for three courses (or 21 for two).
My dining companion, already a regular at this spot, implored me to order the tempura cauliflower, and when I disobeyed, she obliged me in giving me a small bite. Redolent with smoky black lemon and parsley sauce, this dish also had a slightly spicy edge to it. Black cumin? Perhaps some turmeric? Whatever it was totally elevated cauliflower from the jack-of-all-trades it has become of late to the true star of the plate.
If I skirted this dish myself, it was due to the intriguing nature of the other vegetarian appetizer: a pile of thinly sliced, tender beetroot topped with a creamy pistachio sauce and a jumble of greens. The sauce kept telling my brain “avocado,” so each bite of the rich, nutty cream was pure delight, with the sweetness of the pistachios comingling with that of the beets for an earthy, technicolor dream.
But wait… there’s more.
It’s no secret that appetizers often outshine mains in terms of creativity and innovation. Appetizers are a playground for chefs; main dishes are often heavier on the stodge and lacking in that spark. But here, the opposite is true, for as lovely as the starters were, the mains blew me away.
Slow-cooked pork ribs were nestled atop a sweet parsley root purée and topped with a smattering of green asparagus and a pile of fried enoki mushrooms. “I can’t stop eating these,” my friend said, and I understood her plight.
I was, nevertheless, wholly besotted with my own main: a mackerel dish whose aroma had captivated me from the moment I came in the door. Paired with tender bok choi, creamy sage sauce, and a double whammy of umami from the bonito flakes on top and the onion purée beneath, it was the sort of dish you don’t really want to finish.
I hadn’t planned on partaking in dessert, but demure portion sizes and delicious flavors convinced me to say oui to this caramelized apple dish topped with apple-cinnamon sorbet. The sorbet itself didn’t taste all that spiced (though the French are famously spice-averse), but the crumble certainly boasted the promised warm notes, and that puddle of yogurt sauce, with its barely perceptible sweetness, tied it all together. I might have preferred the crumble to be softer in texture, more like a crumb cake than the shattery biscuit it was, but we’re really quibbling on details at this point. The apple was perfectly cooked and tender while still retaining its structure, and as a whole, the dessert just ate wonderfully.
I would return to this restaurant even if the dining room were not airy and bright, even if the service were not warm and accommodating, even if the wine list did not intrigue me, even if the promise of seasonality didn’t mean the menu will likely evolve in the next few days, never mind the next few weeks or months. But they do, and I will.
Chefs à Table – 15, rue Trousseau, 75011