The real title of this series of essays should be “Bistros, Brasseries and Bars: What’s in a name? Or Does Anyone Really Care?” Because the way the French (not to mention Americans) throw these words around you don’t know what to expect today when you walk into a “bistro.” I don’t usually steal from other peoples writing shamelessly, but the book entitled “Au Vrai Zinc Parisien” by François Thomazeau (Broché, 2004, 11,40 E), photos by Sylvain Ageorges and translated by Anna Moschovakis into English and retitled “The Authentic Bistros of Paris” (The Little Bookroom, 2005, $16.95) goes a long way towards explaining how we got in the current mess. First, let’s look at its title “Au Vrai Zinc Parisien”: What’s a zinc? Literally it refers to the zinc on the surface you have a drink at; figuratively it’s the counter (comptoir), the bar, the establishment itself. So how did the zinc morph into “bistro?” And what explains folks like Yves Camdeborde naming his place – Le Comptoir du Relais when at lunch it serves a brasserie menu and at night becomes a bistro-resto or gastro-bistro? Thomazeau maintains that the strict definition of bistro is “bar” and that places we Americans think of as bistros – with their wood walls, brass fixtures and textured ceilings – are not true bistros or bars. He admits that for lunch they may serve a boeuf bourguignon or a blanquette de veau but says that the real bistros aka zincs open for a 6 AM coffee and function as a home away from home for workers all day long until 1 AM – it’s as if the food part is an afterthought, not at all our view. Therefore, when you look in the index of his book, you’ll hardly recognize a single place’s name; these aren’t the “bistros” we go to or are reviewed by the food critics, these are bars. In my neighborhood, for instance I’d never think of going into l’Alibi or Au Bon Coin for a meal. Oh, they do list the Bistrot Paul Bert and La Boulangerie, relatively new places that are primary destinations for eating, but these are about the only two such therein. Originally, as Thomazeau explans, bistro meant quick and bar came from the brass bar you rested your feet on under the counter. The author established as his ruler by which to measure whether a place was a “true” bistro: their ham and butter sandwich, the temperature of their beer and coffee and the lack of “harshness of their house red wine;” which together are not quite the way the rest of us judge a bistro. For me, the bistro of my youth was represented by the Bistro d’Hubert or Angelina, places that clearly do not meet the author’s definition nor vision. And places today that carry the word Bistro in their title and/or are among the 342 bistros reviewed by Claude Lebey in his “Petit Lebey” this year – the Bistros d’a Coté, Bistro du Dome or the Bistrot des Soupiers – equally do not. Not to pick on Lebey, but I have trouble even putting some of the places he lists, much as I love them – such as La Table Lauriston, Ze Kitchen Galerie and Au Bon Acceuil, in such a category. But back to my suggested real title; does it really matter? Not unless you have a fixed impression of what a bistro should look like, taste like and cost. As usual, here are my favorites from among those bistros not zincs mentioned above: La Table Lauriston 129 rue Lauriston, 16th, (Metro: Trocadero, Iena) T: 01.47.27.00.07 Closed Saturday noon, Sundays Menu at lunch 25 € (with wine), a la carte 55 €. Ze Kitchen Galerie 4, rue des Grands Augustins, 6th (Metro: Saint Michel) T: 01 44 32 00 32 Closed Sundays. A la carte 30 €. ©2008 John A. Talbott