The Great Parisian Plate Debate

Higuma isn’t a swank sushi place; it’s a dive noodle shop. In a plot twist that many Americans might find hard to believe, they don’t even serve sushi. There’s always a quickly moving line out the door and while there’s a dining room in the back, we requested stools at the counter.

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Vieng Siam is a Thai restaurant in Paris’ second arrondisement with all the typical décor one has come to expect from such establishments: chopstick packets on the table, a disco ball hanging pendulously from the ceiling, statues of various deities adorning a flat surface, overpriced Thai beer at the bar, and little wicker containers holding secret condiments.

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I love markets. When I lived in London I could be found most weekends at one of their many. I’d even say that Borough market was one of my favorite places in the entire city. While almost every Paris neighborhood has its own street market, few offer the smorgasbord of street food that was quite common in London. The Marché des Enfants-Rouges is the closest that I have found.

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Le Paradis du Fruit suffers from its self-inflicted unfortunate name. By dubbing themselves the fruit paradise, they paint themselves into a corner from which it’s difficult to escape. Bring me a plate piled high with banana and mango, wreathed in an alternating pattern of strawberry and pineapple, and I’ll wonder why I’m dropping a twenty euro bill on something easily purchased from the market down the boulevard. If the waiter delivers a mere sandwich to my table, with nary a lemon wedge or some type of rich blueberry-based sauce, I’ll question the purpose of such a fruit focused moniker.

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There’s no such thing as a good cheap steak. I should have incanted this truism before I ordered an entrecote off a 22€ three course prix-fixe menu.

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