Feeling Frenchie {No. 20}

After all the excitement of Le Tour yesterday, this needed to be a very chill day.  The main event for the day would be dinner at Frenchie--a restaurant I had hoped to visit on my trip three years ago but 'twas not to be.  It's a really small restaurant and not the easiest reservation to get even if you're only a party of two, let alone a party of eight (which we were at the time).  We ended up going across the street on that 2013 trip to the Frenchie Wine Bar as a group and all loved it.  Still, I kept the Frenchie experience tucked away for another day and today would be that day.

We slept in, had our breakfast at the hotel, I worked on the blog in my pajamas.  I purposely didn’t plan to do a whole lot on these last couple of days in Paris.  I saw most of the “must sees” when I was here three years ago and I didn’t want to be in such a hurry running around that I missed the Paris vibe.  The Paris vibe, as defined by moi, mainly consists of walking or biking around the city, stopping to notice beauty and…spending at least $75 on pastries. #zutalors  And because we are here for such a short time, I didn't want to feel rushed or that I was coordinating everything.  I wanted my shoulders lowered.  

We did not go to Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower or Sacre Coeur.  We did not go to Le Bon Marche or the Louvre.  We ate well and I stopped to take pictures and walked and biked and walked and biked and bought pastries and went to Le Jardin de Luxembourg.  By the time we got going it was late lunch-ish and all I could think about was having a Niçoise salad and a glass of white at Le Comptoir.  

After lunch Dean and I split so I could hit some (pastry) shops and Dean wanted to track down a French (French Football Federation) football jersey for Walker.  We saw one on a little boy in Le Comptoir and his mother told us where to get one.  Walker is going to flip.  Of course we've seen about a hundred things that Mamie would love on this trip as souvenirs but hardly anything for the boys so when we saw the jersey, we had to spring for it.

We met back at Le Jardin du Luxembourg.  I got there first and just sat with my feet up and my pain au chocolat for a good while.  It was so peaceful.  Dean got there and almost immediately it started to rain.  We waited it out underneath the thickly canopied trees and even that was peaceful.  As we started our walk out of the gardens, we stopped to watch some of the chess players.

Before dinner we stopped for a cocktail at the Hemingway Bar in The Ritz and happened to snag the last table in the small, cozy place.  It was closed along with the hotel for refurbishment when I was last in town which was disappointing--so I was happy to have a chance to go.  Best place imaginable to spend $30 on a cocktail.  We were served little snacks, we channeled the old man himself, the bartender wore a white coat and black tie, the bar maids were so kind, the chairs were comfy, the cocktail napkins cloth, the glasses engraved and the drinks were perfect.  Loved it.

We hopped on our Velib bikes and set out for our 9:30 reservation at Frenchie.  We walked in and gave the hostess our best “bonsoir” and she gave us two seats at the chef’s table—alongside the expediting island near the kitchen.  Dean and I both looked at each other like, “This’ll be good.”  It’s been a while since we’ve been given the privilege of seats at a chef’s table—and it’s an experience that really draws us into the whole art and mission behind a meal.  We got to talk to the chef, Austin Johnson, and several on his team, mainly Claire Dellinger who was queen of the cold dish expediting station directly in front of us.

The meal was not just our favorite meal we had in Paris—I would venture that when all is said and done and we’re flying back over the Atlantic, it will win out as our favorite from the trip.  It’s the kind of meal we were still talking about the next day.  Photos to follow….  

Continental breakfast on a tray?  We’ll take that on our terrace, s’il vous plait. 

We finally got motivated to get lunch around 2:00.  Silly of us to think there wouldn’t be a wait at Le Comptoir by then, but it wasn’t long and we were tearing bread and spreading butter.  The menu at Le Comptoir is a little intimidating because there is zero English on it.  You basically just guess or know what you want going in—or do some googling on your phone.  I knew I wanted the Niçoise but Dean got the tartare and loved it.  Included is a pic of the little girls at the table next to us who are obviously young women after my own heart.  

Pastry run at Gerard Mulot.  Which begs the question:  why are there so many gorgeous, fit and skinny men and women walking around Paris??  I have no answers, just bitter feelings.  But not for long because...flaky pastry.

Mr. Pain au Chocolat says, “bonjour!”

Jardin du Luxembourg and a bike ride and this taste au citron avec meringue.  My heart overflows!  I wonder what the French version is of "meringue is the essence of life?"

Old men playing chess while young men look on, hoping to glean some little bit of wisdom.

Moments surrounding our happy visit to The Hemingway Bar in The Ritz.  What an extravagantly gorgeous hotel.  Dean says we can stay here for our 50th anniversary.  I countered with 35th. 

On the bar and drink menu, it plainly says photos are not allowed in the bar.  I think we know by now what that means in Lesli-world.  This is a picture of Dean in mid-sentence, “Lesli, you’re gonna get us kicked out of here.” 

There’s a quote on the bar menu from Hemingway which says, “If I have any money?  I can’t think of any better way of spending money than on champagne.”  Hear, hear Ernie.

A surprise selfie kiss in the Place du Vendome?  Heck yeah!  C’est Paris!!

Bonsoir, Frenchie.  This was actually as we were closing it down.  But I’m placing it first in the series so you can get the vibe of the restaurant.  It’s small and intimate.  Very cozy.  There’s Claire behind the bar where we sat just over on the right side. 

By this point, we were mesmerized.  They’re using tweezers to assemble the food.  They’re being careful and precise and they’re giving pause to the notion that first, as patrons, we will eat with our eyes.  I watched them and thought, “I would be so good at this job.”  Somehow it's the only pic I got of Chef Austin Johnson.  He was protective of his food and exacting.  He exhibited a pride in his creations that was endearing.  He seemed genuinely interested in how we experienced his food.  Talking with him made all the dishes very personal.  Take heed and put this man on your watch list.  He can cook/imagine/execute.  Can't wait to see where the road leads for him. 

I would love to be able to pop one of these gems in my mouth again.  Some kind of little crispy shell gently held zingy, lemony crabmeat, so bright and fresh.  The crispy shells were perched on beautiful little shells, which themselves sat in a bed of coarse grey salt.  The bite made my mouth leap to the sea! 

And here is Claire, putting together some of the foie gras dishes.  Claire was so neat, so capable and particular about every tiny detail.  We adored talking with her.  Chef Johnson, if you're out there, hold onto Claire.   

When Chef Johnson told us it was foie gras, I think I gave a vague, “Ohhh.”  He asked if I liked foie gras and I confessed I’d never had it before.  He quickly replied, “One of these is for you.” I’d never had strong feelings for or against foie gras—just never knew what to expect so I avoided it on a menu.  But this?  This was beautiful.  And paired with different versions of peaches.  Chef Johnson was so confident that it made me confident.  And I can report that I savored every bite spread on a pinch of the rustic brown bread at our table.  I’m fairly sure most foie gras is not like Frenchie foie gras, so in that respect, I’m guessing I just got spoiled for all other versions.  Risk/reward. 

To quote the young people:  “I can’t even.”  This dish was so savory, so perfect and the sauce was velvet.  How how how do you make a sauce like that??  Sauce nirvana.  Did not want it to end and it was one of the things we reminisced over the following day.  So so good. 

One of two desserts we were served and while they were both good, this was my favorite.  A take on Strawberry Charlotte cake, it held tiniest lady finger batons, fresh strawberries, lemon, golden currants, ginger-infused cream cheese and strawberry sorbet.  All the textures and frozenness and bright, beautiful flavors just pulled all my senses to attention without leaving us feeling heavy.

Frenchie, you're our favorite.  You were worth the three-year wait.  Sincere thanks to Chef Johnson, Claire, Megan and the whole Frenchie team for a meal we'll long remember--very fondly.  In the case that I get to return to Paris before my 35th anniversary, I'll be back.