Worth the Wait: Spring Lives Up to the Hype

                                                                              

And they say it's difficult to get a reservation at Spring.  I think I started trying back in 2009, so that's what, 3 years, give or take several months, and in the grand scheme of things, that really isn't so bad, is it?  I guess I should mention that my attempts have been limited to potential Friday evenings, a notoriously difficult slot for a reservation in the space-challenged, New York Times-reviewed neo-bistrots scattered throughout the French capital.  Nonetheless, my dinner last night, with Co. in tow - or rather, the other way around, as this was her treat, and her successful reservation snag - attests to the fact that one can indeed have a meal at Spring, even without pulling any strings, if one tries hard enough and has a lot of time on one's hands.  As Lenin once observed, the two trump cards of a Bolshevik are patience and irony, a good way of summing up the end of one battle and the launch into another (Septime, but that's another story altogether).  (I hope you caught the Alain Resnais reference there.)

If you are a regular reader of this blog, as I certainly hope you are, you may remember that Spring's reputation was originally established  at a much smaller venue around Pigalle in the 16th, now occupied by La Vitrine.  (If you think it's difficult to get a reservation now, imagine what it was like when Spring could only cram 16 diners into its space, a venue that Le Figaro once anointed the hardest to reserve table in Paris.)  In July 2010, Spring moved to a 17th century building in the center of Paris, where its success has reached new heights.  Once Co. and I rang the doorbell at 6, rue Bailleul, a leisurely 10-minute walk from the Forum Les Halles, we were ushered into the elegant two floor restaurant, cozily seating about 22 on the main floor, and about another 20 or so in the more secluded downstairs floor.  Everything is elegant hardwood, metal, and stone, a nice juxtaposition, perfectly reflecting the melange of subtle ingredients in the Daniel Rose-led open kitchen, first thing you see upon entering.  I like the idea of the locked front door - good way to keep out the riffraff, i.e., the tourists who had read glowing reviews of the restaurant and decided to just drop buy and get a table ('try back in another few years, we should have something by then').  We were seated at a perfectly placed table overlooking the staircase and in close proximity to the kitchen.  Okay, that's stretching it - given the relative size of the kitchen and the main dining room, everybody is in close proximity to the kitchen, which I would have to guess is exactly the way Monsieur Rose prefers it, because dining at Spring is not only about the food, but also about the performance of preparing the food.

We found the now scruffier head chef leading the choreography in the kitchen from note one.  Allow me to digress.  It’s not hard to understand the popularity of Facebook.  Yes, I know, countless sociologists and popular culture pundits have opined the obvious – social networks offer us the opportunity to connect with heretofore unprecedented ease blah blah etc. blah.  And as one of those pundits myself – in my non-Mortstiff persona – you can add me to the club.  But let’s face it Facebook fanatics, Facebook is all about ‘face’ in its three most obvious facets:  narcissism, exhibitionism, and voyeurism.  What does this have to do with a review of Spring?  No bloody idea.  Just joking.  I was thinking about those three purely human needs as I pondered the recent explosion of open kitchens - seen in my previous reviews of Yam 'Tcha and L'Agrume, most notably.  Based on my limited exposure, I think chef Rose is in no small part an exhibitionist, noisily instructing, demanding, urging, joking, crooning, and otherwise chatting to his team throughout the evening.  We speak English here - Monsieur Rose and the wait staff, all bilingual of course, but at Spring, English rules.  Which is why I tried my darnedest to stick to French, being the cynical contrarian Bolshevik that I am. And then there are the diners, and let's face it, we are the voyeurs, checking out our fellow lucky devils --the night of our visit, apparently heavy on the well-heeled, well-coiffed American side - who also somehow managed a Friday night table, but more so, the hard-working team in the (multi-language) kitchen.  You ever watch those cooking shows on TV?  This is much better. 

Time to move on to the 76€ fixed-price 4-course dinner.  No carte to ponder, only the pithy description of the meal-to-come from one of several servers.  You take what is offered, although Spring - like most of the other neo-bistrots - is flexible when it comes to dietary restrictions, allergies, and what-not.  For example, well-informed in advance that I do not eat veal, I was offered a pigeon alternative.  Apparently, I wasn't the only one, as it appeared that about half the patrons also opted for the bird. And I could have sworn I heard Mr. Rose mention a party of vegetarians on their way. (Good luck with that.)  Things got off to a light, relatively forgettable start, with four amuse bouches brought to the table: two petite roasted potatoes, a small plate of cucumbers and radishes in salt, a very flavorful tapenade, and a triangle of butter for the two large-sized rolls.  Our bottle of Saumer (2010) Germain Roches Neuves quickly followed, one of the handful of reasonably-priced bottles (35€) on the extensive (and otherwise pricey) wine carte.  At its bargain basement price, the red excelled.  This was followed by a first course of fish soup, accompanied by a lightly batter-fried sextet of rouget.
      

Aside from a few miniscule moules, the highlight of the soup was the ample use of fenouil - the herb and the meaty white crunchy chunks of the slightly sweet plant.  Fish soup in late June may not compute for the reader, for whom 'spring' means something more than a trendy restaurant in Paris.  But when Cole Porter penned 'I Love Paris in the Springtime,' he couldn't have had the current weather in mind - rainy, windy, and cool - enough reason for me to don my dark shirt, suit coat, and leather coat before embarking on the evening's mission.  In Paris, unfortunately, these days 'spring' is a restaurant, not a season.  So on this particular Friday night in the middle of June, a hot soup seemed more than a propos.  Co. was less impressed than I was by this opening act, but those herbs really hit the spot for me, and the fried rouget was an inspired accompaniment.


Next up, a hefty langoustine on a bed of peas, and embellished with a modest dollop of lemon confit.

 

I hate to have to trot out that over-used bromide, 'melts in your mouth,' but I can't think of a better way of describing the langoustine.  This dish was followed by the main dish, the aforementioned veal (or pigeon) dish.  Both dishes were identically prepared, save the meat.  Here's what the pigeon looked like:

 

The succulent meat was accompanied, in part, by girolle mushrooms and a hefty spoonful of memorable mashed potatoes.  As I wolfed this course down, I kept hearing Co.'s tsk-tsk at my aversion to veal, content as she was with the well-prepared slab of veal and accompanying ris de veau (sweetbreads).  The four-dish dessert came in two stages - two small bowls of chocolate and strawberries, followed by a cherry tart and Greek yogurt sorbet.  These were consumed in utter silence - they were more than worthy of our complete attention, as noteworthy desserts should be.  

That about wraps it up.  To keep the bill under the two-century mark (it clocked in at a reasonable 187€), we eschewed end of meal cafe, perfectly content to empty the final drops of the Saumer.  As we donned our outer garments, I gave a thumbs-up to a bemused Monsieur Rose and, as we made our way back out into the now rain-free Paris night, I couldn't hold back a little grin that patience had paid off.  I may be the last blogger on the scene to finally make it to the highly-touted Spring, but guess who's review is now the most up-to-date?  Ironic, n'est pas?

SPRING              

6 rue Billeul

75001 Paris

tel: 01 45 96 05 72

website: http://www.springparis.fr/

La Vitrine - Spring Backwards, Fall Ahead

By Paris standards, this past Friday night was virtually arctic, but Co. and I gamely donned several layers and headed out to the metro, direction Pigalle, and ascended into the Paris night at the Anvers stop. As we walked toward La Vitrine, our destination for the evening, and approached the square on rue Turgot, we paused for a moment to turn around to have a look at the Sacre Coeur, sitting majestically atop Montmartre all aglow. Once we passed the Auvergne cheese and fish stalls aligning the square, there was the Montparnasse tower off in the distance straight ahead. Paris it is. And my mood was truly upbeat, because after checking out Vitrine's website and catching a glimpse at the following dishes, I was looking forward to a memorable meal.





I really wanted to like La Vitrine. First, there are those snide comments on other review sites about how La Vitrine is doomed from the start, having moved into the old site of the local legend, Spring. Now, I still haven't found out how wonderful and super fantastic Spring is, because the last time I tried to reserve there, which is when they still resided at the rue de la Tour D'Auvergne location, I was told, sorry, we're fully booked until 2015, or something like that. Second, everything was copacetic upon arrival. A nice welcome from the charming hostess, we were seated abutting the counter separating the dining room from the open kitchen.

It's understandable that a wildly successful venue like Spring would bolt from its original location. La Vitrine's owners have done an admirable job of making full use of the limited sq. meters, lining up a grand total of 9 tables along the two walls. The offerings for the evening, barely legible on two mounted slate boards included the following dishes, as listed at the website:




Unfortunatley, La Vitrine ultimately didn't live up to expectations. I went with the marinated tuna, the fish of the day - a rectangular slab of lean white fish, poisson maigre - and the lemon tartelette. Co. opted for the raviole (which unfortunately couldn't touch that of Table D'Eugene, see my last entry), cochon, and creme brulee. The personal touch of Israeli-born-and-bred chef Kobi Villot-Malka, seen preparing the tuna marinee dish below, was plainly visible to the naked eye. After all, as he was preparing the dishes, he was probably as close to me as Co. was at the other side of our small square table.

All that work put into each individual tuna entree resulted in a dish whose taste was surprisingly un-wow (pardon my deconstruction of the English language). My maigre (2nd image below) was delicious, but the accompanying thick turnip circle didn't seem to make any sense - its slightly bitter taste contrary to the almost sweet elegance of the fish. The small cubes of panais - a root vegetable close to the carrot - were pretty much tasteless. What could have been a great dish ended up as a minor disappointment. Co. was less critical of her cochon dish, savoring the topinabour cream. Two big thumbs up for the desserts, however. I now recognize that I am an easy mark when it comes to well-prepared lemon tarts, and the one at La Vitrine was a winner, accompanied by a mound of gentle slices of mango and cassis. Much care also went into the creme brulee with truffes preparation - Co. happens to be a creme brulee fanatic, and this one scored mightedly.






The meal was washed down with a decent bottle of Haute Cotes Beaune, reasonably priced at 27€. The wine menu was relatively short, but well composed. A couple of post-meal cafes, brought to the table in cute little covered tasses, brought the grand total, including a couple 'supplements' to 107€. The menu lacked from inclusion of a cheese course - incomprehensible given the Auvergne cheese stalls a couple blocks away, and I'll say it again - why not bring a couple patisseries along with the coffee, especially when the dessert menu lacks a chocolate option? Little things, big effects. Too bad to see only three other tables occupied during our visit, perhaps more a function of the weather than reputation. I got the impression chef Kobi likes to experiment, so maybe you'll have better luck, but I don't think we'll be returning. La Vitrine is still fairly new and it deserves a look. Nonetheless, as we made our way to Gare du Nord, a light snow was falling, reminding us that we're still a long way from Spring.

LA VITRINE
28, rue de la Tour D'Auvergne
75009 Paris
01 45 23 99 13
website: www.restaurant-lavitrine.com

Not So Frenchie

Given the effusive reviews and significant buzz about Frenchie dating back to 2009, I finally was able to snag a table for two last Friday night. That magical triumvirate of Spring, Yam' Tcha, and Frenchie, three of the most talked about contemporary bistrots on the Paris restaurant scene over the past couple of years, makes for a heady challenge just to get through the door. To date, I still haven't succeeded at getting a reservation at Spring, although I haven't been trying too hard after the last phone conversation I had while trying to book - 'Table? You want a table? At Spring? Do you think we actually allow diners into our sacred batiment? Ha! surely you jest monsieur.' Or something like that.

Long story short, it wasn't that difficult to get that table at Frenchie, at least when asking for the reservation a solid two months in advance. Viola, nothing to it. The problem is, I expected a very special experience (only a week earlier L'Agrume's chef Monsieur Marchesi-Grandiand included Frenchie among his preferred Paris venues), but what I ended up getting was, 'uh, not so bad, actually pretty good.' Voted the Fooding 2009 du meilleur cuisinier (best cook award), chef Greg Marchand, from Nantes to New York City (including a stint at Gramercy Tavern) to Paris kept peering out from the spatially-challenged kitchen in the back of the diminutive stone and red brick duplex dining area, as if to get some sort of confirmation that he was on the right track. A couple tables away, I gave him a polite nod and smile, which seemed to satisfy him enough to send him scampering back to the kitchen.

Frenchie is one of those places - at least on the basis of me and Co.'s Friday night visit - where you hear English being spoken as soon as you pass the threshold, where waitresses answer in English even though you ('you' being me with my pitiful accent) make an effort to speak in French. The menu was printed on a sheet of paper, which self-destructs in one week - that is, different menu every week. Here's what was on tap (click on the menu if it isn't totally readable):



The foie gras torchon, agrumes was a 14€ addition, served as a fine start to the meal, a savory wedge of foie gras with accompanying dollop of citrus fruit jam and toasted bread. I don't know, this must be the period of the mackerel in France, with that otherwise unappetizing fish serving prominently in various guises as an entree, the night before at Le Villaret (as a mackerel press with far too many carrots), and at Frenchie with cauliflower and pickels. Monsieur Marchand's maquereau fume elevated the lowly status of that fish, although I'm not sure why he chose to call two miniscule circles of marinated carrots as 'pickles.' Meanwhile, Co. pondered where on earth the lardo di colonnata was hidden in her salade tiede de legumes. Her assessment of the papardelle, ragout d'agneau was similarly less than inspired. I couldn't fault my well-prepared, fresh pieces of merlu de ligne - the flavor of the two halves of a walnut rounding out this round pretty effectively. No complaints around the table for the panacotta, avocat, chocolat dessert, which was satisfyingly orgasmic. All washed down with a Penedes Indigena red, priced at a reasonable 30€.

In short, the meal was very good, but far short of memorable. Marchand eschews rigorous sauces, and his dishes are Italian and, to lesser extent, American inspired, with the addition of variously subtle ingredients. Although the room is satisfyingly urban/rustic, I could have done without the buffoon at the next table who was opining at a relatively constant rate at a decibel level that was more appropriate for a football match, in some bizarre language that I pegged as Eastern European and Co. dubbed Danish. But that was the rare exception in the largely English-speaking dining area. Strangely enough, when we arrived on time for our 7:30 pm reservation, the dining area was nearly full, something you rarely see at the notable Parisian bistrots. Given the 38€ three-course ever-changing menu, there's no reason not to give Frenchie a second chance, but I have a feeling I won't be trying too hard to get that elusive reservation next time.

FRENCHIE
5 rue du Nil
Paris 75002
tel. 01 40 39 96 19
Video (with Greg Marchand interview)

And the Winners Are - Le Palmarès Fooding 2010

Le Palmarès - 'winners,' or in more common French usage, the Oscars, have just been awarded to the creme de la creme of the 2010 Paris and beyond restaurant scene by Lefooding.com, producers of an informative website and even better restaurant guide (mentioned in my last installment). Yes, it does seem rather early, and this is probably the first 'top whatever' list to appear for 2010, but, well...forget it, Jake, this is France. I have no idea what criteria the list is based on, or the process by which winners are chosen, but that doesn't mean my interest is not piqued for some new ideas for future meals, and of course, subsequent reviews. Two have been on my radar for some time: Spring (last year's big news and this year's big relocation) and La Tête dans les olives. A lot of buzz for both. And good to see another top spot around Parmentier, although I'm not so sure I'm willing to try a restaurant on the basis of best decor alone.

So here they are, Le Palmarès Fooding 2010. Let's just hope they don't turn out to be red herrings.

FOODING 2010 du Meilleur Petit Luxe
Aux Deux Amis, Paris

FOODING 2010 du Meilleur Bistrot d’Auteur
Rino, Paris

FOODING d’Honneur 2010
Bertrand Larcher
Breizh Café, Paris
La Table Breizh Café, Cancale

FOODING 2010 de la Meilleure Auberge
L’Auberge, Audierne

FOODING 2010 du Meilleur Décor
Rem Koolhaas et Clément Blanchet
Le Dauphin, 131 avenue Parmentier, Paris 11e

FOODING 2010 de la Meilleure Table d’Hôte
La Tête dans les olives, Paris

FOODING 2010 de la Meilleure Cave à Manger
Les Papilles Insolites, Pau

FOODING 2010 du Meilleur Agit’Popote
Spring, Paris

Links to each of these venues at lefooding.com website.