EAT LIKE A LOCAL
Paris
Our courageous correspondent eats her way through one exquisite, cost-conscious meal after another on behalf of Budget Travel's hungry readers. Quel sacrifice!
Nearly four years have passed since I published my first "Little Wonder Restaurants of Paris" article, so the time seemed ripe to revisit the City of Light (and heavy eating). It turns out I was ripe as well. Just as soon as I got the assignment, I got pregnant (the better, I suppose, to re-create my first eating tour, which occurred when I was six months along with my first child). So once again, here I am, waddling through Paris, fighting back nausea, finicky and forever famished. It's actually quite a good condition for a food critic, because believe you me, if I like the meal in this state, you're going to love it.
A few things have changed since that last article. One of our favorite restaurants closed, three others went drastically downhill, another raised its prices. But in this city of infinite eating options, I've been able to find even better cheap joints to take their place. So don't believe the hype about Paris: Yes, prices have gone up since President Clinton was in office, thanks to the steady devaluation of the dollar (as I write this it's achieved parity with the euro). But the little mama et papa eateries still exist, where good, honest grub is dished up for a reasonable rate, as well as some fairly chic and happening places that cater to the young and perpetually impoverished student crowds.
(Where prices appear in euros, you can more or less assume that E1=$1.)
Chartier
7 Faubourg-Montmartre, 01-47-70-86-29. Metro: Grand Boulevards. Two courses from e8.65 ($8.65), two courses with wine from E11.15 ($11.15).
My first pick is a "returnee" from the first article, Paris's classic budget restaurant. I had the pleasure of dining at Chartier on my last visit with an American friend who's lived in Paris so long, she can coordinate a silk scarf with an outfit and tie it in that chic Gallic manner in less than two minutes. Being now tres "French," there was a single word she muttered as she tasted each dish, smiling as she said it. "Correct," she would repeat, "this is very correct."
Was this a code word for "dull" or "distasteful"? Not in the least. What she meant was that each dish was done in the way it was supposed to be done, in a traditional manner to the traditional specifications. And that's what you come to Chartier for: the classic French meal. You come for steak with a classic bearnaise sauce (E9.70), for the simple but tasty oeuf mayonnaise (Egg with mayonnaise, E1.60), for grilled salmon (E9.05), for pommes frites (E2.20). All are correct, and all are highly affordable, with appetizers averaging E2.20 and main dishes going for between e7.05 and E9.70.
And you come to be a part of history. Chartier began as a bouillon, or workers' canteen, in the 1890s, and all of the building's belle epoque flourishes are untouched. It's a grand open space, seating several hundred, with soaring ceilings, marble wainscoting, bulbous chandeliers, and brass luggage racks above the tables. As you enter, take a peek at the numbered, dark-wood cabinets: These were where regulars stored their personal napkins until the practice was outlawed in the mid-twentieth century for health reasons.
Restaurant Lescure
7 rue Mondovi, 01-42-60-18-91. Metro: Concorde. Two courses from E11.50 ($11.50). Closed Sundays.
I know it's very, well, American of me, but I prefer to eat at places where the waiters don't seem to despise their jobs and customers. And while I don't buy into the idea that the service in Paris is any more brusque than it is in many other large European cities (try getting a meal with a smile in Prague), there are times when the eater just doesn't feel loved. That's the moment when they should leave where they are and head straight for Lescure (and if they're anywhere near the Louvre or the Tuileries, they'll be pretty close). Located on perhaps the least friendly street in Paris (it's at the back of the American Embassy, so a large armored vehicle blocks the street, and police in bullet-proof vests pace the intersection), Lescure is an oasis of old-fashioned bonhomie. As patrons enter, they are greeted with a hearty handshake by the staff, a jovial group, who will lay a friendly hand on your shoulder as you order, offer suggestions, and crack jokes. It's a family-owned place, passed down from father to son since 1919.
The setting is just as convivial, a transplanted country inn in looks, with a low, beamed ceiling, straw hats as wall art, and lamps shaded in a fabric that looks like nothing so much as fancy cheesecloth. Diners sit elbow to elbow in the cramped rooms, a difficult situation for lefties, but a terrific one for striking up unexpected conversations.
