I can’t believe I’m writing this. Why? Because the minute you get into it, you’ll say: of course, why didn’t I think of that.
In my night job I write reviews for the eGullet Society of Culinary Arts and Letters whereas on Bonjour Paris I try to write essays so that I don’t overlap with Margaret Kemp whose views and reviews I’ve admired for years.
In any case, I find that I follow a rather set pattern when knowing I’m going to report on a meal. I more unconsciously than consciously record in my mind the interaction over the telephone when calling for a reservation and make some mental notation of the streets down which I walk to get there. If I’m meeting someone, I get there early and begin to take notes on the welcome, setup, room, décor, kitchen if visible, etc. If I’m eating alone I do the same while awaiting a carafe of Chateau Delanoye.
And then the real stuff starts: the menu presentation, the ardoise, the wine list, the order. And finally the food, first feel the bread, smell it, taste it. Home made, purchased but artisinal, industrial? Then sample and polish off the amuse gueule. Presentation of the first dish: pretty, appealing, tasty, anything off or wrong? Wine: again smell and taste and savor. Second dish, dessert, cheese, mignardises: same drill. Coffee as well.
So how many keywords have I clicked off? – menu, ardoise, wine list, order, bread, amuse-gueule, first dish, wine, second dish, dessert, cheese, mignardises and coffee = 13. Just as the Eskimo language has 40 words for snow but only one for heat; culinary lingo has a hundred words for something bad but few terms when things are good. Plus, when all goes well: what do you say?: good service, prompt delivery, pleasant demeanor – but when it’s a disaster, you spin out at great length the story behind and of each busted plate, rock-solid piece of bread, sour wine sip, mangled preparation, nasty thawing process and inedible side dishes or undrinkable coffee. And, it’s much more fun to poke fun, deflate, scrutinize or discover piccadilloes than repeat a boringly solid meal. Now when it’s dazzling, that’s something else.
My favorite while I was writing this was: Le Reveil du 10e
33, rue Chateau d’Eau, 10th (Metro: Chateau d’Eau)
T : 01.42.41.77.59
Closed Sundays
A la carte from 20-40 €
©2007 John A. Talbott
I can’t believe I’m writing this. Why? Because the minute you get into it, you’ll say: of course, why didn’t I think of that.
In my night job I write reviews for the eGullet Society of Culinary Arts and Letters whereas on Bonjour Paris I try to write essays so that I don’t overlap with Margaret Kemp whose views and reviews I’ve admired for years.
In any case, I find that I follow a rather set pattern when knowing I’m going to report on a meal. I more unconsciously than consciously record in my mind the interaction over the telephone when calling for a reservation and make some mental notation of the streets down which I walk to get there. If I’m meeting someone, I get there early and begin to take notes on the welcome, setup, room, décor, kitchen if visible, etc. If I’m eating alone I do the same while awaiting a carafe of Chateau Delanoye.
And then the real stuff starts: the menu presentation, the ardoise, the wine list, the order. And finally the food, first feel the bread, smell it, taste it. Home made, purchased but artisinal, industrial? Then sample and polish off the amuse gueule. Presentation of the first dish: pretty, appealing, tasty, anything off or wrong? Wine: again smell and taste and savor. Second dish, dessert, cheese, mignardises: same drill. Coffee as well.
So how many keywords have I clicked off? – menu, ardoise, wine list, order, bread, amuse-gueule, first dish, wine, second dish, dessert, cheese, mignardises and coffee = 13. Just as the Eskimo language has 40 words for snow but only one for heat; culinary lingo has a hundred words for something bad but few terms when things are good. Plus, when all goes well: what do you say?: good service, prompt delivery, pleasant demeanor – but when it’s a disaster, you spin out at great length the story behind and of each busted plate, rock-solid piece of bread, sour wine sip, mangled preparation, nasty thawing process and inedible side dishes or undrinkable coffee. And, it’s much more fun to poke fun, deflate, scrutinize or discover piccadilloes than repeat a boringly solid meal. Now when it’s dazzling, that’s something else.
My favorite while I was writing this was:
Le Reveil du 10e
33, rue Chateau d’Eau, 10th (Metro: Chateau d’Eau)
T : 01.42.41.77.59
Closed Sundays
A la carte from 20-40 €
©2007 John A. Talbott
