The Great Parisian Plate Debate

41 Rue Guersant
75017 Paris
tel. 01.45.74.75.27

In a fit of hypocrisy, I recently purchased the Paris Michelin restaurant guide. After perusing the thin book, it was clear that they really don’t say a whole hell of a lot about each place they review. I guess the assumption is that if they bother to include a restaurant at all, then it must be worthwhile. Being quite partialed to my wordiness, this concerned me. I thought very briefly about imposing a limit on these articles, then I laughed at my foolishness. Besides, since we’re documenting everything, we need to make sure the best places have a chance to stand out.

So as I walked into Chez Mathilde, a spot written up in Michelin, I found myself in a very comfortable environment. Warm tones, wooden chairs and an open cupboard displaying decorative plates all reminded me of my childhood home. The big dog lazing by the door completed it.

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.

For my entrée, I ordered the watercress soup. I had to add a lot of salt before it tasted like anything, but once I did, it was nice.

The bottle of wine was awkward. We ordered a pinot noir from Bourgogne, but something was off. It wasn’t quite corked, but had too much of an earthy, almost musky taste that definitely did no favors to the meal. Perhaps it had sat in the sun for too long, or the house dog had curled up with it. In retrospect, we probably should have sent it back.

My plat consisted of attractively plated-tiny fillets of rouget(red mullet) on a bed of mashed potatoes. They were small, and must have been flash fried, because they had a wonderful crispy texture. Two of my friends had the beef bourguignon, which had a good flavor, but the stew was too thin, and was served over plain pasta which was an odd choice.

For dessert I had the ever popular moelleux au chocolat with vanilla ice cream. This was underwhelming, tasting as if it could very well have been store bought and microwaved to order (although it wasn’t terribly warm, either). The tiny cup of ice cream accompanying it tasted freezer burnt, and had a crunchy texture.

If I found myself in that neighborhood in a famished state I would probably drop in again, but I wouldn’t go out of my way. The bill, which included 3 appetizers, 4 mains, 4 desserts and a bottle of wine came to 117.50€, or 30€ a head.

Christian: Perhaps the Chez Methilde canine performed both guard dog and wine tasting duties.  This would explain the less than stellar quality of the wine as well as the dog’s incessant weaving amongst the dinner tables.  I briefly contemplated if a cat would have been a superior animal choice, then realized at least the dog cannot leap up on the table and lust after Dan’s rouget while flipping its tale in my subpar wine.  Although then I would have had to drink it… 

I (unfortunately) agree with Dan’s stark assessment of Chez Methilde.  However I am still tipping my cap in appreciation to the chef who created the coconut curry shrimp appetizer.  Without a doubt it reigns supreme as the top appetizer thus far on the Great Parisian Plate Debate.  My only knock against it is that the shrimp used in the dish were those mini shrimp, which often makes one feel like some type of ogre for devouring infant creatures yet to experience the simple thrills of a shark escape or the magic of a salt water sea…