The Great Parisian Plate Debate

51, Rue de Turbigo, 75003
Tel. 01.48.87.83.25

I could fit into a solitary thimble what I recall about Les Arts Metiers. I remember that Constantino accompanied Dan and I on this final twilight mission, the only one brave enough to respond to our desperate pleas for assistance. I know that it was a Sunday. I recall that the streets were empty, as fittingly were 95% of the tables at Les Arts Metiers. A slight shudder passes through my body as I think back to the moment the waiter introduced us to our final glass victim, secretly wishing that perhaps, in an act of upmost carelessness and mercy, he may drop the bottle upon the floor, the wine spilling forth with the same enthusiasm with which Dan and I would have jubilantly high-fived and congratulated one another on the benevolent twist of fate which saved us from struggling to polish off the unwanted swill.
But no, we ended up drinking it. Required bottle number sixty, the number of total bottles the Great Parisian Plate Debate brutalized throughout its reign of terror being significantly higher due to our habit of ordering second and third rounds somewhat commonly. Surprisingly I felt the moment quite anticlimactic. There is no shortage of explanations as to why – anyone finishing an enormous race or completing a large project understands the first inclination isn’t always a celebratory dance, but merely a satisfied, thankful sigh that things are over. And in addition to this phenomenon we also have massive pain, a belated gift from the previous night’s festivities, my Velib-ing about the city in a frenetic race to sneak in a full bottle of Bordeaux in the 7eme, and a bottle of red at Le Grand Corona (in that specific order, no less).
Rather than dwell on Les Arts Metiers (an average bar with robust capacity, but sadly I don’t trust my judgment to comment on the wine given the circumstances) I simply will congratulate Dan on a job well done. His dedication, French, enthusiasm (except for this final day), conversation, and pompousness were priceless assets in this endeavor. The Great Parisian Plate Debate could not have been a success without him.
As the last sip of wine drains from the glass, it would be remiss not to acknowledge the city which inspired these months of chaos and memories. Paris requires no ill-used adjectives from me to convey our collective thoughts. The Great Parisian Plate Debate itself – a five month project spanning every arrondisement and costing a small fortune of euros, merely as an excuse to explore Paris’ alleys and boulevards - surely provides a more powerful tribute than words ever could.