I couldn't believe it. A week had passed in Paris and I had yet to really eat out at a restaurant. With late night pastry classes and afternoon cheese binges, I had little room left for a full-on sit down dinner.
But all that was about to change. Approaching Au Gourmand from the Luxembourg gardens, one would never expect that such delicious food lies within its modest facade. Just over a year old, Au Gourmand offers a "Diner 3 Plats" for a mere 35 Euros, and believe me with the dollar getting weaker by the day, 35 for an entree, a plat, and a dessert, is mere The chef is a finance refugee, and you too will be glad that he moved into the kitchen. Ambitious, without being pretentious, the menu and service is presented by two well dressed, friendly managers, eager to answer our questions in broken French and English, though we were the only English speakers there.
Foie gras-ed out from our afternoon kitchen demonstration, we had come to eat not-too-French, French food, which is precisely what we got. The autumn vegetable tart splashed with white truffle oil, melted in my mouth atop a flaky puff pastry. The tartare of oysters with smoked salmon was a bit on the briny side for my friend, but our visitor from the states dove into his salad of fresh lettuces, and I used a crust of bread to get a taste of the divine twelve year old balsamic.
The crowd was older too, a combination of couples and groups of four. We couldn't decide if the table to our left was a mother and a son, or an indication that tad poling was the new trend in Paris. The entrees were a bit mixed, but not for lack of high quality and taste, more for personal preference. The filet of beef, ordered rare, looked like it was still breathing, caged in by perfectly round mounds of truffled potatoes. The shellfish risotto was brilliantly orange, with black mussels and langoustines, but a but on the decadently creamy side. I had opted for a simple roast pork chop, which arrived on a lone plate with a side of pure fat the same size as the loin. Left on for effect, and more so for flavor, I also received a little pot of roasted vegetables, sprinkled with a crunchy sea salt.
As we neared dessert, our waiter professed his love for the restaurants of Chinatown in New York, regretting his premature return to France after September 11. As he wished to stay longer in New York, I thought that I wished my stay in Paris might be extended, only to realize that this meal marked my first full week.
Invigorated by my personal realization I heartily devoured my sorbet trio of fig, melon, and litchi, nibbled my neighbors cheeses and tried our visitors trio of green tea. His green tea ice cream, too green for me, was topped by a orange chocolate that tasted like the sherbet I once looked forward to in my middle school cafeteria.
Just like the sherbet, our meal at Au Gourmand began to melt away as we walked towards the lights of St. Germain. Moments later we traded the quiet intimacy of our dinner for the overflowing sidewalk in front of Cafe de Flore. With my first restaurant dining experience complete, I set off quickly down the street to ponder what I had eaten, where I would eat next, but mostly to exercise away what I had eaten that night in anticipation of what I would eat tommorrow.
22, rue de Vaugirard
01 43 26 26 45
(Monday - Friday)
a disaster. AC not working properly. 35 c. no excuse form the owners. food down to earth. prices up to the sky. do not go there
Posted by: john d. | June 25, 2009 at 04:53 PM