Let me tell you, there are some places in Paris
better seen from under the table. Take Davé for instance. This is a
very chic Chinese restaurant that is by no means a dump—very cute, with
lacquered red walls and pictures of celebrities and even a fish tank.
But the smoke? Oh-la-la. It’s better under the table.
Davé is the restaurant of choice for Sunday evenings: partly because so
many places are closed on Sundays and frankly, if it’s Sunday and you
are American, well, it means Chinese, doesn’t it?
himself comes from Hong Kong and speaks Cantonese, Mandarin, French and
English fluently. But his mother tongue is fashion, ma chère, this is
the place that is so “in” that it’s almost a private club. (To get a
table, tell Davé I sent you.) Sunday nights are always full, and half
of the place goes to the regulars. So, I was invited by Paul, one of
the Sunday regulars and an American expat.
is a good guy to be invited by because he brings along my friend
Jicky—a shih tzui—and Jicky’s new baby brother, Joop—who is named for
the Dutch designer, even if his name is pronounced as if you were
saying “skirt” (jupe in French). Go figure. Jicky and Paul have been
regulars for so long that the boys are allowed free run of the place
and the food just comes automatically… no menu.
is laid on the floor, and a platter of spareribs arrives as the
appetizer. Spareribs do make you thirsty, so water is served shortly
thereafter—in separate bowls for each of us, so there are no
table also got spareribs, as well as nem, dumplings wrapped in lettuce
with fresh mint, and baskets of dim sum. (If it’s Sunday it must be dim
sum.) Other dishes served included Davé ‘s famous lemon chicken—with
sauce on the side so doggies can nibble too—sliced duck with pancakes
and scallions, fried rice, sautéed shrimps and a green leafy vegetable,
steamed and marinated in garlic sauce.
12 rue Richelieu, 1er
Copyright Suzy Gershman