Tintilou - A Work in Progress

The more things change. . . after reading a couple positive reviews of Tinilou, including Heidi Ellison's Paris Update review, I started getting a feeling of deja vu when I noticed the rue de Montreuil address, and sure enough, it was the very same address of L’Aiguière, a restaurant I used to frequent, but had long forgotten about . . . at least since 30 June 2008, when I penned my not very kind review. L’Aiguière had been around for a number of years, but had obviously run its course. Fast forward to this past March when chef Jean-François Renard took over as new owner and gradually began the transition from L’Aiguière to Tintilou. And when I say 'gradually,' I mean it. Other than a complete transformation of the interior, whose now bright and bold new colors
apparently didn't touch the fancy of Ms. Ellison, there isn't a single clue as to the new restaurant's new nomenclature. "L’Aiguière" proliferates - on the menus, on the facade, on the little restaurant cards available at the entrance, and on the bill. In my view, if you're going to change your positioning - and that apparently is what the new owner has in mind, catering to a younger and more laid back clientele than its predecessor - maybe it would be a good idea to get that new name out there as bold and bright as the decor.



Before moving to the food, I have to disagree with Ms. Ellison's assessment of the new decor, which she suggests isn't to everyone's taste. So many Parisian restaurants have an overly stodgy look - L’Aiguière was awash in subdued nautical blues and whites, and the furnishings were handsome in that 'my grandmother would feel right at home here' kind of way. So kudos to M. Renard for throwing caution to the wind and brightening the place up. Apparently, he is also more than willing to take risks with the food, too, but not too boldly. Yet, it's early and I'm hoping once he settles in, the confidence will come. Co. and I opted for the 3-course 35€ fixed-price menu and, following a tasty mise-en-bouche, started off with two promising entrees: for me, the nem de rouget barbet, vinegrette ail et noix de cajou; for Co., boudon noir de Toulouse, pomme verte et crevette laquee (both pictured below).





Co. was particularly satisfied with her boudin noir, but the presentation won out over taste where my nems were concerned - actually one large nem sliced in half, evidentally much effort into the preparation, but this dish called for more taste sensations than were forthcoming, and the small bowl of cashew garlic vinegrette lacked the requisite spiciness. An interesting dish that did not totally disappoint, but it did come up short.

No photos of the main dishes: for me, a fresh Turbot, Barigoule de courgettes aux fèves et basilic Thaï, pretty good; for Co., 'la coucotte de mois', sot l'y laisse et ris de agneau cumin sesame, artichats poivrades, no platitudes for the latter. Co. opted for dessert cherries - Cerises, citronnelle, glace à « La pie qui chante »; for me, Rhubarbe, tuile dentelle abricot fraise. I had been forewarned by the reviews I consulted that the rhubarbe concoction, completely enveloped by a meringue crust, would be epic. My verdict: epic, as in very, very good.

Overall, a distinct predilection by M. Renard toward Asian fusion without losing the French traditional (another entree boasted Sardines Bretonnes, carpaccio de canard frais, guacamole).

My guess is that it's still a bit too early to tell whether Tintilou will reach the heights of the top new bistrots in Paris; it has a way to go, but the promise is there, and I will definitely check it out again during the Sept./Oct. rentree. They have some glitches to work out, that's for sure - for one, if you're going to call your new restaurant by a new name - get rid of the old one!! And, though I hesitate to mention this, it must be said - when our bill arrived, I noticed in addition to the 70€ for the two menus and 19€ for the Bourgueil, cuvée Jean Carmet, Bouvet Ladubay [by the way, the wine menu is replete with reasonably priced, interesting bottles], there was 6€ supplement. The 'supplements' are pretty common in Parisian restaurants - certain dishes that are part of a fixed-price menu may have an additional surcharge. That's not the problem. The problem during our visit is that no surcharge was indicated on the carte. That is a problem. This was confirmed when we exited and checked out the carte on display in the front. Sure enough, no supplement. Co., more courageous than myself, marched back into the restaurant to point this out. By the time I coyly followed, a waiter was already pulling 6€ in change out of the cash register. The hostess than explained that they hadn't checked the printed menu when it came back from wherever it started out from. Not a good policy, although I have a feeling they'll be more attentive to proofing the menu in the future. I notice at the website the supplement (for the coucotte de mois lamb dish, by the way) is indeed noted, only it has mysteriously increased to 7.50€. What are you goin' to do? A work in progress, indeed.

LE TINTILOU
37 bis rue de Montreuil
75011 Paris
tel.: 01 43 72 42 32
Website: http://www.tintilou.fr/

More food from the website:

Le Marsangy – Gotta Lovett

A lot of catching up to do. With Parisians finally bundling up against the first cold wave of the season, and none too soon I might add, those corner bistrots, brasseries, and cafés in the capital look even more tempting than usual, warm and inviting. And I’ve been taking advantage. The blogger’s plight: so many restaurants in Paris, so little time.

Sandwiched around a terrific meal at Mark Singer’s La Cave Gourmande and leading up to what no doubt will stand as my dinner of the year on Monday night at one of Paris Restaurant and Beyond’s faves, Ze Kitchen Galerie, there were more than a few meals I never got around to reviewing. The blogger’s plight, redux. A couple of casual, traditional haunts in the 11th were worthy of note and memory (the others long forgotten). One of which was Le Marsangy on avenue Parmentier, a no-frills, solid bistrot with fresh ingredients, a carefully chosen wine list, and a proprietor (or patron-chef d'orchestre, as one customer reviewer put it) who increasingly reminded me of Lyle Lovett the deeper I got into the Pinot Noir (that's the real Lyle to the left, by the way). Le Marsangy is a rather small establishment, but nonetheless, I had less a feeling of other diners breathing down my conversation than in much larger venues. I remember wood, glass, and a lived-in feel, just like you’d expect from a neighborhood bistrot in Paris off the tourist trail. My pate salé de caille with lentilles was original without
flamboyance. Along the way, Co. appreciated her wild boar (sanglier au airelles), but was disappointed with the giant shell pasta in lieu of a preferably more compatable mashed potato accompaniment. Hey, it was a try. Co. had much kinder words for her panacotta aux cerises dessert, and the plat de fromage was formidable, from which I constructed one of my more memorable selections of cheese this year.

The aforementioned Pinot Noir went down well with our plates, but a bit too light for my taste. Next time, I’ll ask Lyle for advice, because I have a feeling he certainly could be helpful. This is someone who obviously takes his wine seriously, the entire list reproduced exquisitely on the far wall, a job that must have been quite an undertaking. The blogger’s plight: so many bottles, so little time.

Overall, for a three-course meal for two, with a bottle of wine, the tab came to a reasonable 87€. Le Marsagny isn’t the sort of place you go hunting for the gourmandise experience, but it’s the sort of place you’d be happy to spend a comfortable evening with friends. I just wish I had a bistrot like this in my neighborhood.

LE MARSANGY
73, avenue Parmentier
75011 Paris
tel. 01 47 00 94 25
Web site: none

Coming Next: More From the 11th.

Le Barracão – Driftin’

Drifting along the always effervescent rue Oberkampf in Paris 11 the other night, a distinct Autumn chill firmly in air, I needed a venue to slake a hunger I worked up after another tough day of the racket that I call work. On my way to Le Vin Qui Danse at 128, I instead stumbled into Le Barracão at 108 after a quick glance at the slate menu hanging out front. Trust me, the stumbling nature of aforesaid evening goes directly against my principle of never venturing into a restaurant in Paris by chance alone. But for some reason, maybe the Charlie Byrd Brazilian albums I’d been listening to recently and the espadon on the menu, I decided, why not?

A narrow and relatively small establishment with prominent bar in the front room, I was led into a cozy, candlelit back room. Looking at the Brazilian flag draped across the ceiling and the decrepit posters to my right, interesting wall mural on the left, I recalled having been in this place before, at least a decade ago with Co., deep in the heart of our Routarde period. It thus goes without saying that this is a good sign – longevity – especially in the Oberkampf/St. Maur area where restaurants and bars come and go like the whims of a schizophrenic Gemini (old stalwarts like Le Café Charbon and Occitanie excluded, of course). Nonetheless, I wasn’t born yesterday, and I know that largely with the exception of Asiatic and N. African, when Paris goes ethnic, the result tends to be mediocre at best (Italian, Spanish), and often just plain awful (Tex-Mex).

I knew I was in trouble when I glanced at the one-paged cardboard menu. I knew this because it was so dark I could not see a single word on the menu, even with the aid of my reading glasses and paper-thin metro map magnifying glass. I nearly set the thing on fire with the little table candle, at which point the waitress kindly brought me a miniature flashlight. It’s one thing to dim the lights to convey a romantic atmosphere, quite another to invite patrons to role-play the blind. Was there something they didn’t want us to see, like, for instance, the food? Anyway, the flashlight was a nice touch – it is definitely going on my Xmas list.

As for the food, I can say it did the job with dishes that probably hadn’t been altered one iota since my original visit back in the ‘90s. I launched the evening’s festivities with a half litre bottle of Chilean rouge (13€), which reeked so intensely of cork that I nearly swooned. Thankfully, the waitress swooped it off the table with an alacrity that suggested much practice, leading me to contemplate once again the eventual demise of the cork altogether. Not one for cocktails (I prefer my liquor straight up), Le Barracão looks like a good bet if that’s your thing. Two young couples at a nearby table seemed to be perfectly satisfied with their mojitos and multi-colored concoctions, and the menu listing for cocktails seemed copious.

Once my wine was replaced I was on my way to shedding the day’s tensions and kicking back. Shortly thereafter the entrée arrived, a ceviche de poisson (8€). I couldn’t really see it, but I knew it was there. I could vaguely make out a kind of circle of tartare-like fish concoction with lime, slices of avocado, salad, and tomato. The lime was essential to temper the overt fish taste, and the overall impact was my realization that I’ve had better. Still, I was hungry, warming up from the wine, and feeling pretty good, so I gave it the benefit of the doubt. This was followed by a moqueca de espadon (14.50€), a large pot of small squares of swordfish, rice, onions, and coconut. This was hot—but not in the spicy sense—and hearty, and so filling I left a few squares of swordfish, which had become a tad boring by that juncture. Overall, 35.50€ for the meal. At that price, it’s not surprising that we’re not exactly talking about authentic and/or gourmand Brazilian fare. The dead giveaway was the menu, which threw in the Mexican standards, guacamole and quesadillas. No black beans, no hot sauces, no Caetano Veloso, Chico Buarque, Djavan, or bossa nova on the soundtrack. But you can’t always get what you want. Sometimes, though, you get what you need, and in that case, Le Barracão might just do it for you.

LE BARRACÃO
108, rue Oberkampf
Paris 11
tel: 01 43 55 66 06

Note: Driftin', one of Tim Buckley's most haunting creations. I've been listening again to his Live at the Troubadour 1969. It doesn't get much better than that.