The Great Parisian Plate Debate

50, Rue de Clignancourt
75018 Paris
Tel. 01.42.51.66.18

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 18^eme arrondissement to confirm this culinary report.

This was the third adventure in the Eat portion of the Great Parisian Plate Debate and expectations had never been higher. In addition to boasting the aforementioned delight, dedicated those who are unable to ingest enough absinthe via conventional methods - say, a cup - this particular restaurant had come highly recommended from a friend. Now, it is true that listening to friendly advice is not always in one’s best interest. It is because of the best intentioned suggestions from friends that we have to deal with past shames such as jean shorts, mass quantities of flannel, and Ace of Base. When it comes to restaurants, however, I generally find advice to be trustworthy. At its worst, it is still better than my typical method of choosing a place with the first understandable menu.

Marguerite’s small dining room was empty when we first strolled in at 7:30 PM, which is a good indication that I will quickly receive a basket of bread - important when lunch was an average ham sandwich from Bon Journeé (one day the French will wake up to the magic of Ranch dressing, and when they do sandwiches will never be the same). I was both confused and excited when the bread was placed upon our table, as it was accompanied by two bowls of butter. My normal dinner experience involves an elaborate butter-spreading charade in order to obtain some, and yet the locations selected thus far for the Challenge have served it out without request. I was struck by the oddity of having to appeal for a wine menu, which was a virgin experience in a French restaurant.

I made the bold move of ordering an entrée, an encouraged act within the Challenge environment. The brousse de brebis was soon presented to the table, a wonderfully arranged display of what I deduced to be cheese filled raviolis atop a bed of lettuce and pine nuts. At least I think they were pine nuts. As soon as I get past the realm of the cashew and the almond I’m in trouble. The dish was a positive experience, although I could not help but imagine how much better it would have been served slightly warm.

My main plat was jarrets de porc aux chorizo, and I won’t lie - it was the word ‘chorizo’ that hooked me. Images of Chipotle were dancing in my head. Sadly the porc was not served with a mammoth tortilla, but Marguerite did the next best thing by serving the dish with a mildly sweet red sauce. The meat was very tender, very juicy, quite saucy, and it succeeded in banishing the thoughts of a burrito from my consciousness.

My dinner companions went with scallops (excellent - number two after my porc), steaks (apparently, both ‘medium’ and ‘rare’ translate to ‘overdone’ in French), and, for pure spectacle - an entire fish baked in salt.

Dessert was two swings and one miss for Marguerite. I ordered brioche, which is essentially French toast served with vanilla ice cream, while Dan ventured into the world of the green fairy and ordered the absinthe soufflé. The brioche was incredible - I would happily send someone to Marguerite just for this - and the soufflé was a disappointment. Really, that’s not a surprise given the flavor of absinthe.

The bill came in at 177.50€, which included two bottles of wine, one entrée, four plats, and two desserts for five people. Not bad, but the brioche was only 7€ - a small price to pay for what was the main attraction!

Dan: I think I was more partialed to Marguerite than most of my dining companions. My salt encrusted dorade was baked in a coffin-like two solid inches of salt that left it exceptionally tender and juicy, but not too salty.

The red absinth soufflé certainly wasn’t as bad as Christian lets on. Perfectly airy on top, the fennel flavor intensified as you dug into the ramekin, there was the residual alcohol that hadn’t baked off. It fell into the “interesting” category, something I’m glad I tried, but don’t intend to seek it out again. Christian’s pain perdu was ludicrously tasty, and if I were in the neighborhood, I could imagine popping in just for the dessert. Probably won’t go back for a full dinner though.