The Great Parisian Plate Debate

Like a foolish squirrel dreaming of a ridiculous haul of acorns from a pine tree, so did I naively dream of Paris’ 16eme arrondissement bursting forth with an embarrassingly excessive bounty of restaurants worthy of the Great Parisian Plate Debate. After all, the 16eme has a nice view of the Eiffel Tower, and it is home to the Trocadero neighborhood and Maison de Balzac. But I - like the poor misguided squirrel - was soon disappointed.

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As soon as we sat down, we were each served a tiny square of an amuse bouche that looked to me like some kind of terrine. Trying to cut it with a knife, I damn near sent the thing flying into my neighbor’s lap. Ignoring her scowl, I picked it up with my fingers, and it pretty much tasted like a dense Cheez-It. A fond memory for an ex-pat, but I think Kellog’s recipe is better.

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If the great metropolis of Paris had resisted the urge to institute a smoking ban in January 2008, then Le Bidou is an establishment where I would have been overjoyed at the prospect of lighting up a decadent three euro cigar. I simply cannot help it – the dark wood paneling and open street side window provided an atmosphere which required the smug self-indulgence that only a slightly below average cigar can provide.

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Now I could be wrong, but my understanding of the new smoking ban is that an establishment may have an outdoor smoking area as long as at least one side remains open. Good Lou seems to have blatantly ignored this, rolling down a third wall of clear plastic sheeting. This did an outstanding job of sealing in that extra-sweet acrid smoke you only get from French hand rolled cigarettes.
Well done sir, well done. Except that I don’t smoke, and everyone else in Paris does.

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It may have been the allure of the orange awning that drew us in, but it is just as likely that we were growing tired of talking to one another while under the influence of sobriety. What we wanted (besides a bottle of wine) was pizzazz, a bar that would beat you in the face with how awesome it was. What we got was Kim’s Lounge.

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Have you ever wandered into a restaurant wondering about the hallucinogenic properties of the establishment’s dessert? Rumor had it that Marguerite offered an absinthe soufflé, a perfect pairing of egg whites and suspect liquor, and we had arrived in the 18eme arrondissement to confirm this culinary report.

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