Dinner after the crazy delicious ice cream was at a rather traditional brasserie called l'Européen, across from the Gare de Lyon (map here). We actually had a choice of another restaurant across the street, but we decided that that other restaurant was more chain-y and went with the restaurant with more character. The decor of l'Européen was distinctive, with mirrors all around and a plethora of interesting lighting fixtures adding to a rather old-school European feel. Another thing that I like about dining in France is that the level of service in pretty much any restaurant is quite high. You'll never find a waiter who casually tosses down your silverware or nudges you as your water is poured. It's easy to take this for granted until you go to another country and find yourself a little shocked that not everyone takes service seriously (I experienced this on a weekend trip to Barcelona after spending a few weeks in France). I don't think the fact that there's no tipping (service compris written at the bottom of menus indicates that tip is included) explains all of it, since other countries without a tipping culture aren't as up to snuff. I guess the French just care enough about food and the food experience to ensure a good time regardless of whether or not one is doing the actual eating. My kind of people.
Back to the food, the only part I'll write about is the appetizer: 6 oysters (huîtres in French). One of the key things to look for when eating raw oysters is to see if there is a good quantity of liquid in each half-shell. This is referred to as the liquor, and many aficionados believe that much of the flavor resides there. I tend to agree, as the liquor tastes of the ocean: briny and a little iodine-y, with the tiniest hint of umami. It obviously takes a little extra care when opening an oyster to ensure that the liquid doesn't drain out, so most establishments don't bother. The oysters here came filled to the brim with liquid so I was quite optimistic. The oysters themselves were quite fresh, but the liquid was simply very salty with none of the other flavors that I associate with oyster liquor. Either my palate was thrown off by the house red wine, the ocean water in France has a different composition, or they're cheating by pouring salted water into the half-shells. Regardless, I do enjoy raw oysters and they function well as an appetizer, whetting the appetite for what's to come without compromising eating capacity. The entrees were good but not spectacular, so I'm going to move on for the sake of expediency.
After some post-dinner wandering and logistical planning back at the apartment (we still needed to secure lodging and transportation for the rest of the trip, but those are just minor details) we headed out for a late night drink at Bistro Cent '8 -- across the street from the Monoprix where we get groceries -- which always seems to have groups of happy people sitting out front drinking and smoking up a storm (the French ban on smoking in workplaces took effect in February 2007, while bars and restaurants followed in December 2007. Smoking is still allowed outside, so many of the outdoor tables are occupied by smokers). As we were chilling, my buddy came up with the brilliant suggestion of getting some late night eats in the heart of Paris (again, we're near the southern edge of Paris proper). Our only concern was around transportation, as the Paris Metro closes around 12:45am to 1:00am. A little research indicated that there's an all-night bus service (Noctilien) that runs from 12:30am to 5:30am (the Metro reopens at 5:20am). We didn't bother to nail down the details because it was a little after 12:30am already. We paid our bill and booked it to the Metro to get in before it closed. As we went down the stairs into the station, other folks were sprinting as well, so we continued to hustle and caught the train without incident.
We went to a famous all-night establishment called Pied de Cochon ("Pig's Foot") which specializes in all manner of pig parts. We arrived there well after 1am but there were quite a few patrons already, and more continued to stream in as we ate. We each ordered French onion soup (of course in France, they just call it onion soup: soupe à l'oignon) and I ordered La Tentation de Saint-Antoine, the Temptation of Saint Antoine. He must have been a very temptable saint, because the plate consists of 4 pork products: ear, snout, shank, and tail. The bread that came at the beginning of the meal was accompanied by a small container of dull gray hash. Confiture can be translated as preserves (often referring to fruit preserves) and here it was basically a tasty minced mishmash of unmentionable pig offal. For those of you from the mid-Atlantic region, think of the texture and color of uncooked Scrapple, but tastier. There's definitely a hint of funk to it that indicates that organ meat is involved but the flavor is fairly benign, as the fatty bits expand the flavor canvas to be more broad than deep. No one flavor dominates and I found it delightful. The onion soup came with a massive amount of cheese covering the soup and crouton. I typically avoid French onion soup in the US since it tends to be way too salty (I speculate that it's partially because the soup tends to sit for an extended period of time over heat, with the expected consequence of evaporative concentration). No problem with that here, as the soup had the right level of seasoning though there were very few pieces of actual onion present. Not mind-blowing, but better than most of what I've found in the States.
One naturally has high expectations for random cooked pig parts at a restaurant named "Pig's Foot". We started with the ear, which is just cartilaginous support structure on a base of muscle. The ear had been deep-fried to very nearly a crisp which is just cheating, as everyone knows that everything tastes good when deep-fried. The ear cartilage takes some chewing to get through and carries very little flavor by itself, but the batter, seasonings, and fried-ness make it a tasty treat. It's quite approachable, as there's no funk factor to the flavor, just the textural dissonance of chewy/crunchy cartilage and a little grease of uncertain provenance (is it frying oil or rendered collagen?). The meat at the base is a little more interesting, though a bit fattier than it looks.
The shank was next. This was probably the least unusual of the pig parts, as most Americans have probably seen shank on a menu even if they didn't really think about the fact that it's the ankle (and sometimes the shin as well) of a quadruped. There are coordinated wads of fat beneath the skin that sit above the meat, but the meat itself is surprisingly lean and quite flavorful (ossobuco is one of my favorite Italian dishes, and it's veal shank). I believe the shank was roasted since the skin was crisp in parts and had that rather sticky surface texture that indicates that a meat product has had a productive and delicious rendezvous with high heat. Scraping away the fat nodules and eating the underlying meat with the well-herbed crispy pork skin made for excellent eats. I also note that pork raised outside of the US tastes quite different, "porkier" for lack of a better descriptor. It's not that the flavors are different, they're just more intense. The industrialization of meat farming in the US is a triumph of science and process (many don't realize that in the early 20th century, chicken was afforded only by the well-to-do), but "the other white meat" tends to end up as a rather bland product in the interests of consistency and mass production. I'll take super-porky any day of the week.
The small piece of snout was also very deep-fried and the cartilage was cooked into softness, leading to a very creamy sort of mouthfeel with lots of oily textures swishing around. The ear had more of a snap/crunch but the snout was more like a dense, deep-fried gelatin. Not earth-shattering so we'll move on.
The tail was like a smaller version of oxtail, with long striations of meat bracketing separable vertebrae. There was more fat than meat on the tail and the meat required some effort to remove from the bones (usually having to lever the bones apart), but the meat was very tasty. Muscles that are used frequently tend to be tough, but if cooked slowly into tenderness (by braising, barbecuing, etc.) yield real flavor and deliciousness. A small tureen of water with a slice of lemon floating on top was provided with the dish for rinsing one's fingers if they get greasy, but I managed to deconstruct the items sufficiently with fork and knife. In retrospect, I wonder if I missed out on something by not grabbing everything and gnawing my way into pork-bliss. The meal ended with meringue baked in a shape vaguely reminiscent of a pig. Awesome.
We walked about 1.5 miles to the Gare de l'Est (map here) at 3am, on one block passing by a number of women in doorways significantly underdressed for the weather. We made it to the station unmolested and hopped on the bus (which runs every 30 or 60 minutes, depending on the line and the time) after waiting for less than 10 minutes. We noted that although the bus is technically 1.60 Euros (we have a 5-day Paris Visite pass that gets us everywhere, including on this bus) no one was bothering to pay or show any passes. I think this is a good call on behalf of the city leadership; what's the cost of not collecting a fare versus leaving people stranded late at night without Metro service? Sound economic reasoning.
Coming up: An Alsatian dinner then a visit to a dance club ranked in the top 30 in the world. And it's on a boat on the Seine.
Time difference in hours between the Eastern timezone and Paris: 6
Days during this trip without experiencing rain: 0
1.5L bottles of water consumed at the apartment so far: 9
Number of food items that my buddy has refused to try: 0
No comments:
Post a Comment