You’re invited to join the Ultimate French Mediterranean Food-and-Wine Tour from Marseilles to Nice from October 7-14, 2023.

I’ll be hosting this trip with Ruth Reichl, Nancy SIlverton and Laura Ochoa, and we’ll be learning why Marseilles has become such a superb food town, sampling some spectacular wines, eating the best of Nice, and concluding our intimate gastronomic journey (this trip is limited to twenty travelers and is already half booked) together with a meal at chef Mauro Colagreco’s Michelin three-star restaurant Miramar.

I designed this trip, and I’m really excited about it, because it really is such a fantastic insider’s discovery of Marseille, a city I’ve loved ever since I first visited it as a backpacking student during the year I studied in London, and Nice, which has enchanted me ever since I was a nine-year-old boy and read about it in a book my Aunt gave me.

Full itinerary and pricing here: https://dinnerwithfriendsabroad.com 

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Prunier is back, and it’s better than ever. Most recently owned by the late Pierre Bergé, founder of the Yves Saint Laurent fashion house with the late designer of the same name, one of the most glamorous restaurants in the world has just reopened under new owners, the Swiss investment group Olma Luxury Holdings, with a new menu by Michelin three-star chef Yannick Alleno.

Laurie Ochoa, Ruth Reichl, Nancy Silverton and me

So when Laurie Ochoa, food editor of the LA Times; writer and editor Ruth Reichl (my old boss at the still lamented GOURMET), baking genius and restauranteur Nancy Silverton and I had one meal alone during the trip we led in Paris and Champagne in October (more on that here https://dinnerwithfriendsabroad.com/), I booked at Prunier, because I knew it would be a festive occasion and wanted to try Alleno’s new menu.

This supremely elegant seafood house and caviar counter just behind the Arc de Triomphe opened in 1924. As I told Laurie, Ruth and Nancy over glasses of Champagne as we began our meal, it was some sixty-three years later that I walked through its doors to meet Yves Saint Laurent, of all people, for lunch.

The reason for this painstakingly negotiated and carefully choreographed occasion with a charming public-relations woman in attendance was an interview I was doing of the designer for a London newspaper after I’d left my job as an editor in the office of Fairchild Publications, the fashion publisher that was once the unforgiving arbiter not only of hemlines and good taste in its garment-industry newspaper Women’s Wear Daily, but the cruel judge of the beau monde’s social cachet in the pages of its slick magazine W.

My English editor wanted something “a little racy and a bit naughty,” but I was wary of delivering these goods, since few people in the world were better protected legally in those days than the late designer. Still, it was an important story for me, and so I was anxious when I showed up for the appointment at the curiously early hour of 11am (“It’s so that Yves won’t be high or drunk yet,” speculated my shrewd friend, the late Christa Worthington).

When I arrived I was stunned by the beauty of the art-deco decor of this place and then dumbstruck and horrified to be ushered to a table a large silver bowl filled with crushed ice and a metal tin nestled in this icy mis en scene. It’s contents were glossy and black, so that even though I’d never eaten caviar before, I knew what it was, and I also knew that it was an extravagance to be personally presented with such a huge serving of this storied delicacy.

Yannick Alleno

Unlike Yannick Alleno, who could probably have finished the entire tin pictured above on his own, I’d never had caviar before and was squeamish about the idea of eating fish eggs.

“Really, Alec!!?#8221; Ruth said.

Yup, really. If I’ve always loved to eat, I arrived in Paris with a pathetically pinched and provincial palate par excellence. Most seafood was off limits, and game was too wild for me.  Thirty-six years later, however, I’ve become an avid omnivore, and so I couldn’t wait to tuck into some of the world’s best seafood at Prunier.

And the interview with Yves Saint Laurent While I busy tasting my first caviar, something I immediately fell head-over-heels in love with, the designer left the table to—I don’t know what, and never returned. So I sat there with the stricken PR woman for another 45 minutes eating caviar, oysters and smoked salmon, and then I went home to call London and explain that the interview had been aborted.

Coming out of the Metro, I stopped at the Felix Potin, a convenience store, in the rue de Babylone, to buy some milk, and going into the shop, I immediately recognized the man at the cash register who was buying a huge amount of cheap candy.

The cashier rang it all up, and spoke the total aloud. The designer stood there blushing and sort of dazed.

I guessed that he had no money on him, and told the cashier I’d pay for the candy. Then Saint Laurent looked at me and smiled sheepishly. “Merci, vous etes gentil,” he said. And then he looked at me again. “I’m very sorry. I’m very sorry,” he said, recognizing me. “I don’t feel well today. I’m very sad and I had nothing to say. My life is very difficult right now.”

A man in a dark suit came into the shop, glanced at the cash register receipt, handed me 200 Francs, and led the designer, who lived just across the street, away.

“I hope you at least enjoyed the caviar,” he said over his shoulder. I did indeed.

All of us started off with l’Oeuf Christian Dior, which is a signature dish on the new Prunier menu. It was a sleight of gastronomic elegance more than worthy of the late designer, too, since it came to the table as a perfectly coddled egg with a generous spoonful of caviar on its crown and a buttoniere of chive in a pool of caviar-speckled cream. Beautiful to behold, it was even better to eat, since following the waiter’s instructions that we dig down to the bottom of the bowl with each spoonful of egg, we discovered the feral genius of this dish, which was a  hidden aspic made with essence of jambon blanc (white ham). In effect, a whole ham had been gently sweated for hours on end and the juices it released had been captured and used to season the aspic. This contrast between the lush iodine-rich caviar and meaty aspic created a perfect and very luscious harmony when napped by the yolk of the egg.

Subsequent starters were superb as well, including the salmon-and-seaweed hand roll Nancy ordered, the langoustine carpaccio with caviar cream that seduced me, Laurie and Ruth.

I knew the minute I opened the menu and saw it that I’d have sole meunière, because it’s one of my favorite of all French dishes, and Laurie had it too, because she feels the same way. Here it was impeccably fresh, perfectly cooked, and beautifully garnished with melted butter, capers, a piece of lemon and a side of ethereal potato puree. Nancy had scallops with seaweed butter and a saffron sauce and Ruth ordered line-caught sea bass with a celery gelee and caviar. All of us were extremely happy with our meals.

None of us had been planning to have dessert until the pastry tray arrived. Assured that the figs were from the south of France and the raspberries from Alsace, we succumbed to these beautifully made tarts, and threw caution to the winds by accepting the suggestion of a glass of Champagne with dessert.

“I think Prunier just be the most beautiful restaurant in the world,” said Ruth And I think she just may be right. One way or another, it’s an excellent choice for that special meal you were planning to treat yourself to in Paris, and it’s also very romantic without making any effort to be so whatsoever.

Yes, it’s very expensive, too, but it’s worth every centime.

And if I may, I’d like to suggest that my gastronomic coming-of-age story MY PLACE AT THE TABLE: A Recipe for a Delicious Life in Paris would be a wonderful holiday gift for food-lovers, Francophiles, and anyone who loves a good read.

16 Avenue Victor Hugo, 16th Arrondissement, Paris, Tel. (33) 01-44-17-35-85, Open for lunch and dinner Tuesday-Saturday. Closed Sunday and Monday. Lunch menu 68 Euros, prix-fixe menus 125 Euros, 190 Euros; average a la carte 150 Euros. www.prunier.com

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In Hebrew, the word ‘Tekés’ means ceremony, with the implication of a celebration. In Paris, the word now has two meanings–the original Hebrew one, and a second one as the name of Tekés, a very popular new restaurant, which is also a cause for rejoicing, because it has brought modern Israeli vegetarian cooking to a city that’s long been lamentably well-known for its indifference to vegetables.

The long running exception to this generalization has been chef Alain Passard’s shudderingly expensive Michelin three-star restaurant Arpege, but now people who love good food and eat plant-based diets are finally getting a lot more choice in Paris. And many of these new places, including Tekés, are so good that even people who aren’t vegetarian will enjoy eating at them.

Tekés is tucked away in the Sentier, or Paris’s old garment district, which has now become a popular nightlife zone for younger Parisians with lots of bars, cafes and restaurants (Paris-lovers will note that this zone has replaced the superannuated rue de Soif in Saint-Germain-des-Pres, as this once delightful neighborhood has been drained of life by an infestation of identikit luxury brand-name boutiques and expensive pied-a-terre apartments). I liked this warm lively place immediately when I went there to meet a friend there for dinner. It’s run by the same Israeli team led by talented chef Assaf Granit that launched the hugely popular Shabour and Balagan, along with the just-opened Jerusalem street-food restaurant Shosh.

Led by chefs Cécile Levy, who formerly cooked at the Norman Hotel in Tel Aviv, and Dan Yosha, Tekés’s busy open kitchen privileges cooking over charcoal and embers, and it puts on a great show while producing stunningly delicious dishes like grilled zucchini with cinnamon labneh and flambéed eggplant.

The menu leads off with some outstanding breads, including a beautifully fluffy crown-shaped challah for sharing and a buttery sage-leaf garnished galette to tear apart and dip in labneh, and then runs to a suite of Vegan and vegetarian dishes, which are also meant to be shared. These are followed by a regularly evolving roster of Israeli comfort food dishes from different Jewish culinary traditions, which are also meant to be shared, another reason that a meal here ends up being such a good time.

I loved my beet-root chachlik, which came with feta cream and watercress and was every bit as satisfying in terms of taste and texture as any version made with meat, and my friend was delighted by her “The Silk Road,” a dish composed of celeriac, clementine, ginger and shushka. We were also intrigued by the vegetarian chicken liver, which is a composition of mixed mushrooms served with a soft-boiled egg, dates and pine nuts. All of these ingredients arrive table side and are then blended with a mezzaluna before being served. The unguent umami-rich hash actually does have distant echoes of chopped chicken liver, but it’s lighter and fresher than any version made with the fowl. Gnocchi (below) were absolutely delicious, too.

Desserts are intriguing, too, including a brilliant airy mushroom mousse with chocolate granola, a perfect grand finale to the healthy joyous cooking of this very good restaurant.

And walking home after dinner, I couldn’t help but feeling quietly ecstatic that a growing number of talented young chefs are finding ways to create dishes that are not only healthy and environmentally friendly but offer a full flush of gastronomic pleasure as well.

N.B. Tekés has one of the best and most interesting wine lists in Paris, with an especially strong selection of outstanding wines from Central and Eastern Europe and the Middle East.

Tekés, 4bis rue Saint Saveur, 2nd Arrondissement, Paris, Tel. (33) 07 81 42 54 74, Metro: Open for dinner only Monday-Saturday. Closed Sunday. Average dinner 45 Euros. http://www.tekesrestaurant.com

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Tucked away in a mercifully still ungentrified street in the northern Marais, Parcelles is a very near perfect Parisian bistrot a vins, or bistro with a special focus on wine. It’s immediate charm, which comes from the wake of the addresses that proceeded it at the same address, notably Le Taxi Jaune, is joyously authentic and profoundly Parisian, from the big copper-clad bar to suspended factory lamps and a retro cracked tile floor.

This isn’t some fly-in-amber address, however. Instead, you instantly sense the suave professionalism and seriousness of the staff from the moment you’re seated at a table with a crisp white table cloth. Then there’s the delightful welcome from owner Sarah Michielsen, who’s one of the best young restauranteurs working in Paris today. This is because of her reflexive hospitality but also comes from her extensive experience of running Parisian dining rooms, including, mostly recently, that of Itinéraires, the now closed restaurant of her ex-husband, chef Sylvain Sendra.

Sommelier Bastien Fidelin is similarly cordial and attentive when he comes to the table with his rather fascinating wine list, which features organic and natural wines from all over France and beyond. The importance of his work is reflected by the name of this restaurant, too. In the French terminology of wine-making, a parcelle is a small plot of land with distinctive geographical and geological characteristics that impact the quality and character of the grapes cultivated.

Chef Julien Chevalier’s menu is regularly revised according to what’s seasonal and best in the markets, and his style is wonderfully produce centric. To wit, he aims to enhance the natural flavors of the produce he cooks rather than temper them into other tastes. In this cautiously and hopefully post pandemic moment, this simplicity and authenticity is exactly the way we want to eat right now.

So Parcelles is a sophisticated but relaxed modern bistrot a vins that aspires to and often achieves a wonderfully low-key excellence.

Meeting my friend Tina, another American journalist in Paris with a French spouse,  for lunch we got through a good hunk of media gossip over a glass of excellent Champagne (Elise Deschannes – Essentielle), and decided to order different things to give the menu a broader sampling. My steamed clams in a marine broth with fresh herbs were succulent and remarkably fresh, while Tina’s pumpkin fritters with herbed Fromage blanc were perfectly cooked in a feathery tempura-like batter.

My choice of a main course may have made Tina shudder, but I can’t resist ris de veau (veal sweetbreads), because I love their resonantly carnal taste and texture. Here, they were impeccably cooked, with some light crusting and garnish of fried sage leaves, and served on a bed of buttery potato puree with a beautifully made silken sauce of veal stock and pan drippings. Tina’s guinea hen was a succulent piece of bird with garnishes of spelt risotto, a thick asparagus spear, and some tapenade. Both plates were generously served and the cooking was. light, precise and full of flavor.

The wine I somewhat begrudgingly allowed sommelier Bastien Fidelin to chose–I’d been leaning towards something from the Cotes du Rhone or Languedoc, was outstanding with this meal, too: Saint Veran – 2019 – Les Pommards by Jessica Litaud, an exceptionally talented young winemaker.

We concluded by sharing a truly perfect creme caramel and the fuzz of well-being that follows a delicious and beautifully served meal (N.B. Don’t miss the lemon cream crumble if it’s on offer).

Since I’m still savoring every meal out with a quiet sense of grateful wonderment after the misery of the two restaurant shutdowns in France, I couldn’t help but thinking that it’s restaurants like Parcelles, not the over-hyped tables of the latest winners of the competitive cooking shows on French television, that form the ballast of Paris’s enduring reputation for gastronomic excellence.

Creativity has its place in the kitchen and can be rather fascinating, but Gallic gastronomic classicism delivers a purring pleasure that is truly timeless in its elegance and sensuality.

13 rue Chapon, 3rd Arrondissement, Paris, Tel. (33) 01 43 37 91 64, Métro : Arts et Metiers. Open Mon-Sat. for lunch and dinner. Closed Sunday. www.parcelles-paris.fr Average a la carte 50 Euros.

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Chef Tom Meyer

Stepping through the front door of talented young chef Tom Meyer’s restaurant Granite in Paris unleashed a rush of memories and also inspired hope during a profoundly testing time. Though the COVID epidemic is still very much with us, as of this writing (December 16, 2021), restaurants in France remain open, with assiduous verification of your vaccination status before you’re allowed inside, and the Gallic gastronomic scene has recovered smartly this year with the opening of many outstanding new restaurants.

Deprived of restaurants for much of 2020, the French have a deeper, fresher and more urgent understanding of how important they are to their well-being today than probably at any time since 1945. This is of course because they love good food so much, but it goes way beyond simple–or complex, gastronomic pleasure. What we all missed terribly last year was the easy conviviality, piquant social voyeurism, and random sociability of dining out, since no other idiom more powerfully feeds and frames the finely grained drama of daily life than a restaurant meal.

So while it was exciting for me to be trying this new restaurant for the first time, it was also a poignant occasion. Because it takes a lot of courage to open a restaurant right now when we’re still pretty much flying in thick fog. The fact that people chose to do so, however, seeds hope, because it implies that this too shall pass, and reminds us that we’ve often been delivered by human ingenuity. Cooking is a act of supreme ingenuity, because it creates pleasure from the essential act of daily nourishment.

And of course I knew this space intimately from its previous iteration as chef Daniel Rose’s restaurant Spring. It’s been completely remodeled and redecorated since Rose cooked here, though, with a sort of Scandinavian modern look of cut-out wooden paneling on the walls and bare wood tables surrounded by cosseting topaz-upholstered pedestal chairs. The open kitchen that was a defining feature of Spring survives, however, as Meyer’s compact and densely populated work space.

Chef Tom Meyer, 30, previously worked as sous-chef to Anne-Sophie Pic at her Michelin three-star restaurant in Valence and was the runner-up finalist in the Bocuse d’Or cooking competition in Lyon in 2019. Meyer was tapped for Granite by restauranteur Stephane Manigold, who has become one of the most astute judges of emerging gastronomic talent in Paris and one of the city’s most innovative taste makers. Aside from Granite, Manigold’s other Paris restaurants include the superb Substance, Contraste, Liquide, Maison Rostang and Bistrot Flaubert.

Knowing and loving the lyrical beauty of Anne-Sophie Pic’s cooking both in Valence and at her Michelin two star restaurant at the Beau Rivage Hotel in Lausanne, it was as fascinating to discern her influence on Meyer as it was to thrillingly discover his own precise, muscular, full-bodied style. I especially appreciated his ability to be elegant without ever becoming fussy or over-complicated.

Meeting a friend for lunch here, we reminisced about the days this address housed Spring and chatted about how much the gastronomic landscape in Paris has changed during the almost twenty years that have passed since it opened. To wit, menus are shrunken and contemporary French cooking spins harder on an axis of local, seasonal produce than ever before. And if Parisians, including me, often go to restaurants for an experience they’re incapable of creating for themselves at home, there is now a prevailing impatience shading to disdain for the excesses of molecular cooking and also what I describe as the difficult Outward Bound dishes in some high profile restaurants in the Nordic countries, which bully people into sort of a cowed submission.

Our first course was a grilled cepe mushroom with a sabayon flavored with meadowsweet, a wild herb, and a sauce of deeply reduced mushroom jus and white miso. A study in chic comfort food, it was a succulent, earthy and sort of moody dish on an early winter day,  Next, sardines with haricots verts, Matcha seasoned pistachio oil and a salad of seaweed, an apparently naive but actually studiously complex constellation of tastes and flavors with a Japanese personality that bewildered at first but ultimately delivered a bracing gust of the sea.

A giant gnocci filled with steamed shellfish and garnished with cockles in a lemony sauce, fennel sprigs and Vietnamese coriander had a homey charm, but was the single disappointment of this meal, because the texture of the pasta was unpleasantly pasty. Sea bream with kale in apple juice with a gelee of lovage was a ravishingly flirtatious and very original dish, and then Meyer pirouetted to towards fiercer funker tastes and textures with a juicy roast pigeon in a sauce of deeply reduced pigeon jus with green cardamom and kombawa (Japanese citrus) garnished with puffed millet and cocoa nibs.

The little filets of the bird were impeccably cooked, and the Asian accents added some brilliant percussion to the sauce.

Desserts were outstanding. The first one was a delicate rice roll enclosing several spoonfuls of rice pudding, with a garnish of a Mirabelle plums stewed with vin jaune, a pleasantly resinous nod at the chef’s home region, the Jura in eastern France. Next, a plush cold mousse of Belizean chocolate, with glasswort, a sea vegetable, and a hot chocolate sauce infused with lemon and orange leaves was bluntly erotic after the muzzling grandmotherly hug of the rice pudding. What Meyer was offering here was comfort and sensuality in equal measure, and these traits seemed frankly perfect in view of the times we’re living in.

Meyer is an extremely gifted chef who will undoubtedly become one of the most influential talents of his generation.

Granite, 6 rue Bailleul, 1st Arrondissement, Paris, Metro: Louvre-Rivoli or Les Halles. Open Monday-Friday for lunch and dinner. Closed Saturday and Sunday.
Tél (33) 01-40-13-64-06, Prix-fixe menus 58 Euros (lunch), 75 Euros (five courses), 95 Euros (seven courses). www.granite.paris

P.S. I’d like to suggest a perfect last-minute gift for everyone who loves Paris, France, French food, restaurants, cooking, travel and a well told tale, which is my new book MY PLACE AT THE TABLE: A Recipe for a Delicious Life in Paris. This is a sort of gastronomic coming-of-age story about how a shy kid from the suburbs of Connecticut–me, pursued his passions to become a famous food writer in Paris. New Yorker food writer Bill Buford says of my book that “it’s a flat-out wonderful read, filled with stories and secrets.”

If you’d like to offer a signed book, please send me a message through this site, and I’ll mail you a signed book plate with any specified inscription or dedication you might require.

In Paris, the book is for sale at the Red Wheelbarrow. You can also order a copy from your favorite independent bookseller, or from Amazon

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Chefs Pierre Toitou and Cyril Pham

The new Drum Cafe at the LUMA Foundation in Arles is an excellent example of how good a museum restaurant can actually be when someone cares about serving good food instead of the usual bland industrial food-service catering too often found at museums. The food at the Drum Cafe is so delectable that it’s very much coming here for a meal even if you’re not planning to the visit this new contemporary arts complex, which was recently created from a decommissioned rail yard and train-carriage maintenance workshops.

My curiosity about this place was first aroused very early in the morning a few weeks ago on a train from Nimes to the airport in Marseilles when I looked up from my book just long enough to catch a sudden thrilling glimpse of the new Frank Gehry designed metal-clad tower that has become the emblem of the LUMA Foundation. It came and went so unexpectedly that my reaction was all instinct–backdropped by the morning sky, the tower was intriguingly strange and oddly beautiful.

I’ve been reading about LUMA ever since its creation was announced  by Maja Hoffmann, the philanthropist heiress to the Hoffmann Laroche pharmaceutical fortune, but hadn’t yet found the time to go during a year made so busy by the publication of my new book MY PLACE AT THE TABLE: A Recipe for a Delicious Life in Paris (Mariner Books). Then I learned that Pierre Toitou, whose cooking I’d loved when he was at Vivant and Deviant in Paris, had been cast with Cyril Pham as the first chefs for the museum’s new restaurant, the Drum Cafe.

So on a beautiful Indian summer Saturday in Provence, Bruno and I headed south for lunch and a visit to the museum.

The restaurant is located on the ground floor (rez-de-chaussée) of the Frank Gehry tower on the grounds of the LUMA Foundation. Coming through the door, there’s a bar and a few tables in a dark foyer, while the main dining room has a single large horse-shoe shaped table at the bottom of an atrium lined with book shelves and decorated by polychrome pipes overhead that reminded me of the Centre Pompidou; all of these years later, this architectural feint is still fresh and fun, too.

Seated, we immediately ordered two glasses of a delicious organic white wine made in the Camargue from Viognier grapes and a plate of panisses with cured anchovies and fried sage leaves to nibble on while we studied the menu. Ever since I first ate a panisse (a chickpea flour bar) in Nice as a backpacking student a very longtime ago, I’ve never been able to get enough of them, and the ones served here were very good.

The menu was fascinating, too, since Toitou is such a gastronomic vagabond. As I over-heard him explaining to a neighboring quartet, “My father (Jean Toitou, founder of the Paris fashion label A.P.C.) is a Tunisian Jew and my mother is Russian and Norman. Growing up we ate a lot of Japanese food at home, because my parents love it and traveled to Japan often, but we never had French dishes like boeuf bourguignon, because no one knew how to cook them.” Toitou has cooked everywhere from the Hotel Plaza Athenee (Alain Ducasse) in Paris to London (Sketch by Pierre Gagnaire) to Uruguay. He’s also previously done a Pop-up in Arles with Arrmand Arnal of La Chassagnette and is an avid traveler.

All of this comes through in a brief but intriguing menu of mostly Mediterranean dishes that are brilliantly jolted by techniques and ingredients from other cultures. These small-plate dishes that are meant to be shared are sort of exactly what many people want to eat right now as we tentatively emerge from the COVID pandemic. To wit, this food is fresh, seasonal, health, straight forward and booming with umami, or just the cure for people who’ve become bored by the limits of their own skills in the kitchen after cooking non-stop for months.

Finally, we settled on an oxtail terrine (presse de boeuf) with black olive mayonnaise and a salad of fresh herbs and mushrooms in Satay sauce with chili oil and lime leaves. If the rich and brilliantly succulent terrine was profoundly French in the best traditions of rock of ages bistro cooking, the mushrooms registered like some sort of ecstatically good street-food dish you might come across in Bali. One way or another, both plates were beautifully made, generously served and deeply satisfying.

It was pretty obvious that word-of-mouth was working, too, since many of the other people having lunch around us were curious and gastronomically adventurous locals, or the sort of people who support inventive and creative chefs in smaller towns and rural settings all over France.

As depicted above, our main courses might look a bit ferocious but both dishes were outstanding. Homemade cuttlefish ink cavatelli with a cuttlefish ragu was brightened by a pepperoncini fired red blaze of melted ‘Nduja, the soft sausage from Calabria that’s one of my favorite kitchen helpers. (Why When I don’t have time to cook a sauce as rich and ruddy as the succulent cuttlefish ragout, ‘Ndjua adds a lot of flavor to pasta just tossed with olive oil, capers and a sprinkling of smoked salt.) Frankly, I also liked the way that this dish cocked a snook at the usual conventions of food styling in the age of Instagram, too. What Toitou seemed to be reminding us is that taste should always trump fiddly prettiness and that food should be allowed to look like, well, food.

The plating of the grilled marinated octopus tentacle posed on top of a beautifully made potato cake also seemed intended to titillate with a first impression of gruesomeness. One way or another, it was excellent, since the octopus has been marinated to give its meat a creamy tenderness and the char added wonderful flavor to the dish, as did an Indian condiment, raita, which is yogurt with chopped cucumber, pepper and herbs. The potato cake was a highly engineered version of pomme Anna, minus the large amount of butter usually found in this dish. Instead, the potatoes had been finely sliced, neatly formed into a loaf and baked, to create a garnish I could happily eat everyday.

Since we were planning to visit the galleries in the LUMA tower after lunch, we decided to share a dessert, a slice of tarta de Santiago. It presented as a sort of delicious spiced cake made with ground almonds and was garnished with prunes in spiced syrup.

Curious about its origins, I poked around we got home and discovered that it’s a recipe from Galicia in Spain that dates back to the Middle Ages. Translated into English, its name means ‘the cake of Saint James,’ a reference to the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route that passes through Galicia to culminate at the city of Santiago de Compostella. The top of the cake is often decorated with powdered sugar and an imprint of the Cross of Saint James, but the version served at the Drum Cafe was naked, ecumenical and delicious. Interestingly, the European. Union granted the Tarta de Santiago a PGI (Protected Geographical Indication) in 2010; this means that any qualifying tarta must be made in Galicia and contain at least 33% almonds.

Pierre Toitou is in residence at the Drum Cafe until January 2022, when a new chef(s) will arrive, because the idea of the Drum Cafe is to host a regularly changing roster of different chefs in its kitchen, an increasingly popular restaurant concept everywhere.

N.B. The Drum Cafe is open only for breakfast and lunch.

Drum Cafe, LUMA Arles, Parc des Ateliers, 45 Chemin des Minimes – 33 Avenue Victor Hugo, Arles.Tel. (33) 04 65 88 10 00, Average 45 Euros. Open Wednesday to Monday 10am – 6pm, Closed Tuesday. Lunch menu served from noon to 3pm. Reservations strongly suggested via website: https://www.luma.org/en/arles/visit-us/eating-and-drinking-on-the-parc-des-ateliers/drum-cafe

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The Paris restaurant scene has deliciously come back to life after the challenges of two recent lockdowns, and a talented new generation of chefs are serving intriguing contemporary French cooking that leaps beyond the cliches of la bistronomie (modern French bistro cooking) with an emphasis on simplicity and sustainability. Though one or more of the restaurants below are currently closed for their August holidays, this is the cheat sheet you’ll want to tuck away for your next trip to Paris

L’Arrière-Cuisine. Chef David Rathgeber’s Montparnasse table L’Assiette is one of my favorite Paris bistros. Now he’s opened what the French call a cave a manger, or a little grocery store where you can also get a simple meal and eat it at the table d’hotes, or communal table in the middle of the room surrounded by stools. What’s on offer here is Rathbeber’s excellent take on street food and quick eats, often inspired by the comfort food classics of Nice and the south of France, which he learned when he worked in the kitchen of Alain Ducasse’s three-star Louis XIV in Monaco. It varies from one day to the next, but might include homemade kefta with homemade pita bread, pissaladière, socca, and what’s probably the best pan bagnat in Paris, a beautiful handheld feast filled with radishes, shaved fennel, lettuce, tuna, anchovies, tomatoes, fava vean, quail’s eggs, pureed black olive, garlic and olive oil. This sandwich is so good that the last time I had a train at the Gare Montparnasse, I left the house early to buy one for lunch on the rails on the way to Brittany.181 rue du Château, 14th Arrondissement, Tel. (33) 01- 43-22-64-86. Open Mon-Sat 11.30am-8.30pm. Métro: Mouton-Duvernet.

Cena. The two most innovative restaurateurs in Paris today are probably Stephane Manigold (the just opened Liquide, Contraste, Substance, Bistrot Flaubert, Maison Rostang) and David Lahner (La Crèmerie, Le Bon Saint Pourçain, Anima, Racines, Caffè Stern, Vivant). Cena is David Lahner’s latest and it fills a void in a part of Paris top heavy with Michelin starred restaurants but offering rather little in the way of the kind of healthy and inventive contemporary bistro cookoing that has become the signature of Paris dining. Dishes like Roman style deep-fried artichokes, arugula, guanciale and socca (chickpea-flour crepe) curry; yellow pollack with roasted asparagus; and chocolate mousse with smoked black cardamom reflect the impressive resume of young chef Alban Chartron, who worked at La Villa Florentine in Lyon, le Louis XV in Monaco, Anne-Sophie Pic in Valence, and at Épicure at the Hotel Bristol in Paris before taking over the kitchen here. 23 Rue Treilhard, 8th Arrondissement, Tel. (33) 01-40- 74-20-80, Metro: Miromesnil. Open Mon-Fri for lunch and dinner. Closed Saturday and Sunday. Average 60 Euros.

Restaurant La Halles aux Graines. Located in the handsome neo-classical building on the western edge of Les Halles that was once the market for trading wheat in France, the new restaurant of Sebastien and Michel Bras is inspired by various different types of grains and pulses, along with the minimalist revision of the space by Japanese architect Tadao Ando. The official table of the new museum housing the art collection of French luxury-goods mogul François Pinault, it’s located on the third floor of this landmarked building and so has superb views of the church of Saint-Eustache, la Canopée des Halles, and the Tour Saint-Jacques, among other mythic parts of the Paris skyline. Highlights of a recent dinner here included two starters—button mushrooms stuffed with mushrooms and a veil of candied oats and black pepper and red tuna with celery and anchovy vingaigrette, a delicious terrine of summer vegetables for two as a main course, and a superb millefeuille with caramelized pumpkin seeds for dessert. Charming service and an excellent wine list. 2 rue de Viarmes, 1st Arrondissement, Tel. (33) 01-82-71-71-60. Métro : Louvre-Rivoli. Open Monday to Saturday for lunch from noon-3pm, tea and light meals from 3pm to 7pm, dinner from 7.30pm-midnight (last orders at 10.30pm), www.halleauxgrains.bras.fr

Jugaad. I love the diverse kitchens of India, which I first discovered many years ago when I was a student in London. Though there have always been a few Indian restaurants in Paris that I would describe as “correcte” (decent), the French capital has never had a really good Indian restaurant, until now at Jugaad. Talented and highly experienced chef Manoj Sharma’s cooking is a brilliant modern match-up of witty contemporary Indian cooking inspired by India’s many regional recipes and the best French produce.
Standouts among the starters include lamb tartare with crunchy vegetables and mixed spices and mozzarella croquettes with peas, mint and fresh red pepper sauce, which are best ordered with Naan (puffy flatbread) freshly baked on the premises. Among my favorite mains are pork ribs marinated in Goan spices with pickled vegetables; malai salmon, which is marinated in maple syrup and served with a glasswort (a briney seaplant) pesto with curried yogurt and cardamon cream and crunchy buratta with caramelized tomato sauce and mint-and-pistachio pesto.16 rue Favart, 2nd Arrondissement, Tel. (33) 05-54-96- 63-48, Metro: Richelieu-Drouot, Open Tuesday-Saturday for lunch and dinner. Closed Sun-Mon. Average 60 Euros.
www.jugaad.paris

Liquide. Please read my full review here: www.alexanderlobrano.com/restaurant-reviews/liquide-paris-chef-matthias-marcs-great-new-bistro-in-les-halles-b/

Mosuke. Please read my full review here: www.alexanderlobrano.com/restaurant-reviews/mosuke-paris-mory-sackos-exquisite-franco-afro-japanese-cuisine-a-b/

Petrelle. Since female chef Lucie Boursier-Mougenot and sommelier Luca Danti took over this charming restaurants, it’s even better than it was before and has become one of my favorite restaurants in Paris. What I love is that it’s so supremely Parisians—small, chic, charming and serving impeccably prepared and very witty contemporary French dishes that are unfailingly succulent and sensual. The menu changes regularly but I loved my last meal—roasted girolles with an egg yolk confit, brioche and guanciale; roast pigeon with a ragout of chickpeas and salsa verde; and whip-cream filled profiteroles. 34 Rue Petrelle, 9th Arrondissement, Tel. (33) 01-42-82-11-02, Metro: Anvers and Poissoniere. Open Wed-Sun for dinner, Saturday and Sunday for lunch, closed Monday and Tuesday. Prix-fixe lunch 28 Euros, prix-fixe dinner 52 Euros.
www.petrelle.fr

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Chef Matthias Marc

Trout tartare with raspberries, fresh horseradish and beetroot coulis

 

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“A flat-out wonderful read, full of the stories and secrets that make eating in Paris what we want to be doing right now. Lobrano has a genius for finding characters at every level of the food chain—the peasant chef, or the grande dame home cook, or the bistro revolutionary with his simple, perfect dishes—and for owning up to tasting foods for the first time and describing them with surprising poetic flair. Reading My Place at the Table on a New York subway, I did something I have never done: I missed my stop.”
—Bill Buford, best-selling author of Heat and Dirt

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Greetings from France, and it’s my pleasure to announce the publication of my new book, MY PLACE AT THE TABLE: A Recipe for a Delicious Life in Paris by Houghton-Mifflin-Harcourt.

Though the book is officially released on June 1, 2021, we’ve already had some wonderful reactions from early readers and reviewers, including The New Yorker food writer Bill Buford, above.

“A redoubtable restaurant critic and 30-year resident of Paris sets the table with an enticing menu of memories…Lobrano writes with mouthwatering elan, dash, and feeling.”—Kirkus

“Lobrano’s story is inspiring, and his prose lush and inviting. Readers will savor every last page.”—Publishers Weekly (Starred review)

“Rest assured, there’s never a dull moment in My Place at the Table. It’s a veritable feast of humility, humor and emotion.”—BookPage

“Like so many food-lovers, Alec Lobrano dreamed of a life in Paris. Unlike the rest of us, he made the dream come true. In this warm, delicious, and extremely candid book, he lets us in on all his secrets. Everyone who loves French food will want to read this memoir.”
—Ruth Reichl

“In this coming-of-age tale, Alec Lobrano chronicles his discovery of taste during a challenging youth, which led him to emerge as one of the most astute and brilliant writers on French cuisine. Few understand France, and its cuisine, as deeply as Alec, and readers will devour My Place at the Table, which is seasoned by his sharp humor, a soupçon of heartbreak, and the satisfaction of triumph, all framed by his reminiscences of delicious dining at Paris’s most lauded tables. This book is truly a recipe for pleasure!
—David Lebovitz, author of My Paris Kitchen and French Drinks

It’s peony time in France

“Alexander Lobrano’s beautiful memoir about finding himself through writing about food is charming, wise, and often very funny. An American who has lived in Paris for more than thirty years, he offers fresh insights into French culinary culture.”
—Alice Waters

“A long-lasting love story with the French food scene told with wit, verve, and great expertise.”
—Chef Alain Ducasse

“Lobrano excels in weaving a full and timeless human story with bits of mouthwatering epicureanism. He elevates food to an essential anchor of memory in a rich and dynamic human story and shows us that deliciousness, in food and in writing, is achieved through authenticity, clarity, and vulnerability. This book is another example of why Alec Lobrano’s voice is so important: His writing is a meticulous, generous, and joyful affirmation of life.”
—Daniel Rose, chef, New York City (Le Coucou) and Paris (Chez la Vieille. La Bourse et La Vie)

“All I really wanted to do was go to different places to eat, and then write it all down,” says a young Alexander Lobrano in My Place at the Table. Thank goodness he followed his appetites, which eventually led him to Paris, renown as a food critic and now, the author of a memoir that’s by turns poignant, hilarious, wise, and bravely honest. Mouth-watering, too. Lobrano writes beautifully about food. But he’s just as adept at mining life’s truths. Lobrano’s debut book is a lovely feast.”
—Tom Sietsema, food critic, Washington Post

So what is My Place at the Table: A Recipe for a Delicious Life in Paris about And why did I write it?

The short answer is that it’s a coming of age story about how a shy kid from suburban Connecticut ends up daring to chase his dream of living in Paris and eventually becomes one of the most respected and important restaurant critics and food writers in the French capital.

More good news! Restaurants have reopened to serve on outdoor terraces in France, which means pleasures like this green-pea-and-asparagus risotto by chef Krishna Leger at Volver, a delightful restaurants in Serviers-et-Labaume near Uzes in the south.

The longer answer is that if I speak four languages, including my native English and the French and Italian I learned at school, the one I like best is food. I’ve loved the language of food for as long as my mind has been minting memories, because it’s so direct, emotional, intimate, sensual, historical and cultural.

As a shy boy growing up in the Connecticut suburbs of New York City, I was instantly attracted this language beyond all others, because it soothed as much as it excited and was as honest as it was mysterious. Deciphering this almost infinitely vast and varied language became an obsession for me as a child, which is how I discovered what I wanted to do when I grew up during a two-month cross-country traveling camp as a twelve-year-old-boy. I kept a little diary during this trip in which I recorded everything I ate every day, in minute detail and with great enthusiasm. So a few weeks after my anticlimactic return home, it struck me that what I really wanted to do was travel to eat and then write it all down.

Eventually this vague but urgent desire sort of inevitably found its most natural home during my first trip to Paris as a teenager. If the beauty and elegance of the city stunned me anew every morning when we left our hotel, it was the food I fell in love with, the runny cheeses whose names I didn’t know, the invisible veil of the buttery scents of baking while walking down a street, the taunting perfume of sauteing onions drifting out from an alley, and the endless temptations of shop windows and street markets where food was presented with the most astonishing pride and beauty with the goal of delivering you pleasure.

And then we left. On a scorching August morning, the train hissed, and we jolted forward, which hardened the knot in my throat. A week in Paris had left me so smitten that as we left the soaring glass-and-steel shed of the Gare du Nord for the port on the English Channel from which we’d take a ferry to Dover, I knew I’d do whatever I had to do to come back, and that one day I’d return and stay for good. And I did.

I recently wrote a little essay about all of this for the Wall Street Journal.

And why did I decide to write this book now I think the answer I gave to chef, blogger and writer David Lebovitz during an interview he recently posted on substack sums it all up best. This is what I told him:

The desire to write this book just sort of dropped in my lap – like a ripe peach – but I’d been mulling it over subconsciously for a long time. I love writing about restaurants, food, and chefs, but I also just plain love writing and storytelling. My voice has developed a lot through the years, so I was drawn to doing a non-fiction project with two main characters—me and food, that would tell the story of how I became a writer who chose to make food his subject.

My book is also the answer to many people, but most of all my late father, who had asked me, “But why food?” That’s what my father said asked me the last time I ever saw him. He complimented me on my writing but found my primary subject matter incomprehensible because it didn’t seem important to him. I disagreed, of course, because for me there is no subject that’s more important than food.

Writing My Place at the Table is also the expression of my desire to push out the walls on my relationship with food and writing. Because the internet has set off an era of iconoclasm, the formal expertise I’ve acquired over more than thirty years of eating in France needs to be expressed differently in today’s food and media world, to remain valued and relevant.

On June 3, 2021, I’ll be in conversation with David Lebovitz a Zoom event run by the excellent Book Larder bookstore in Seattle to discuss my book, Paris, France, French food and the fact that we’re both from Connecticut, among other things. Please join us. You can register for the event here: https://www.booklarder.com/events/info/my-place-at-the-table

I very much hope you’ll enjoy my book, and please share this post with friends, colleagues and family who also love Paris, France, good food, and a good story or three.

Please order my book using one of the three click-buttons in the right-hand column of this page or from your local independent bookseller.

If you’d like a signed copy of the book, Book Larder in Seattle has signed copies for sale, which you can order online. If you’d like a specially signed or dedicated book plate to place inside of your copy of my book, please contact me view this website, and I’d be happy to send you a signed and/or dedicated Houghton Mifflin Harcourt book plate to place inside of your book.

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As the months roll by during the second national lockdown of France’s restaurants, I often find myself thinking of chef Mory Sacko and his intriguing restaurant MoSuke. The reason why is that I desperately hope this exceptionally talented young chef’s intriguing restaurant will survive the financial vicissitudes of the greatest crisis to face French gastronomy since World War II, the successive closures imposed by the French government as a way of tamping down the Covid pandemic in France.

This almost all-white dining room with bamboo laminate topped tables, a few bold splashes of color and accessories of colorful African fabric opened in Montparnasse last September, and Sacko was winning rave reviews for his delicate, elegant, and very personal cooking, a fascinating and unique cuisine that reflects his French nationality, the African origins of his immigrant parents and his deep affinity for Japan and Japanese cooking, when he suddenly had to close MoSuke.

“It was very very hard,” he says. “For me, but also for my team, and it’s harder still that we still don’t know when we’ll be able to reopen again,” he told me by phone recently.

To be sure, the very tall (six feet, five inches), lithe and almost preternaturally gracious and poised 28 year old chef, who grew up in the eastern suburbs of Paris with  his eight siblings eating West African dishes like chicken yassa (with lemon and onions), thieboudienne (fried stuffed fish in a tomato-and-vegetable sauce served with rice), and mafé (beef stew in peanut sauce), has hardly been idle in the meantime. Aside from tending to his nearly 200,000 followers on Instagram, he also won a Michelin star in the 2021 guide to France and is the host of a delightful and popular new television show on France 3, Cuisine Ouverte (Open Kitchen) {N.B. This show is in French and you’ll have to create a free account on the France 3 website to watch Sacko live), which debuted on February 28.

The guiding idea of the wryly but accurately named television show is for Sacko to explore the products of the diverse terroirs (specific geographical regions where specific foods are produced according to specific government regulations) of France. The first show was set in Megeve, the tony Alpine resort in the Savoy, and Sacko was a striking screen presence against a backdrop of snowbound mountains. During this show, he met a producer of reblochon, a typically Savoyard cow’s milk cheese, and then a local chef, Emmanuel Renaut, who has three Michelin stars at a the outstanding Les Flocons de Sel. Both chefs then used the cheese to prepare dishes that reflect their style, with Renaut making the hugely lucky Sacko the most sumptuous looking grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever seen, aka une croûte de montagne. Think sautéed onions, two types of cheese, including Reblochon, and white wine on country bread.

Manioc lacquered with soy sauce, spinach, ginger, coconut

Sacko’s retort was an intricate dish that elegantly expressed the trinity of his gastronomic identity as a Frenchman of African origins who is besotted with Japan. After smoking the reblochon in hay, he liquefied it with sautéed potatoes and onions, added a dab of wasabi, and  siphoned into deep-fried spheres of toasted bread crumbs, which were then perched on sunny yellow pools of beaten egg yolk seasoned with Japanese plum vinegar. Renaut found the dish surprising, but appealing, observing “I was afraid the wasabi would overwhelm the cheese, but it wakes it up.”

This same leitmotif of lyrical but well-reasoned gastronomic invention and iconoclasm was what I found so thrilling when I had dinner at MoSuke with a gastronomically incisive friend last September.

Both of us loved the roasted lobster with facto-fermented peppers, miso and tomato, a sauve and very pretty dish where the miso’s umami teased the sweetness of the lobster and backdropped the gently soured peppers perfectly. This dish was, in fact, a beautiful cameo of where contemporary French cooking is right now–unfailingly elegant in its aesthetics and flawless in terms of its technical skills, but teasingly racy with unexpected flavours and textures and a sort of complicit one-night-stand sexiness.

If I found Sacko’s version of chicken Yassa–chicken with lemon and onions, a signature dish of West Africa, a bit too refined for my tastes, I loved my friend’s sole cooked in a banana leaf with shichimi tōgarashi (a Japanese mix of seven spices) succulent and delicious, as was its accompanying garnish of attiéké, a dish of fermented cassavas pulp popular in the Ivory Coast, garnished with lovage.

And finally, a truly charming dish of marinated pineapple with bissap (hibiscus) sorbet and a candied shiso leaf. This was food unlike anything I’d ever eaten in Paris before, and so I was very curious to chat with the chef at the end of our meal.

When I asked him about his culinary background, he said, “My Mom’s Malian, but she’s also lived in the Ivory Coast and Senegal, so she knows a lot about West African cooking. She’s a great cook, too” he added proudly. After attending hotel school at fifteen, it was while working in the kitchen of chef Hans Zahner at the Royal Monceau hotel in Paris that he first became interested in cooking.

“It was all new for me, because I didn’t have a French grandmother who made boeuf bourguignon every Sunday,” he said with a grin. “We ate African at home and when I went out with friends, it was for fast food. So I learned French cooking through my work, and I have an outsider’s relationship with it. This let’s me be a little irreverent with tradition at the same time that I really respect it,” he added.

When Sacko became sous-chef to Thierry Marx, an ardent Japanophile, at the Michelin two-star restaurant Sur Mesure at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Paris, he discovered the produce and cooking techniques of the Land of the Rising Sun.
“I fell in love with the aesthetics of Japanese cooking, its precision and perfectionism, its cult of the best produce, and its flavors—African and Japanese cooking both prize umami,” Sacko told me. MoSuke, the name of his new restaurant, reflects this passion, too, since it’s an amalgam of his own first name with that of Yasuke, the first and only African samurai, an emancipated Mozambican slave who lived in 16th century Kyoto.

“There’s a big gastronomic romance between France and Japan, because the two countries recognize themselves in each other. I’m sort of the joker in this story, because I approach both of these kitchens as an outsider, and with my knowledge of African cooking and ingredients, I can shake things up and frame their flavours differently,” says Sacko.

Suffice it to say that I am very much looking forward to dining at MoSuke again and that it should be on your go-to list as well for your next trip to Paris, which will hopefully be very very soon.

11 rue Raymond Losserand, 14th Arrondissement, Paris, Tel. (33) 01 43 20 21 39, Metro: Montparnasse-Vaugirard or Gaite. Open Wednesday-Sunday for lunch and dinner. Closed Monday and Tuesday. Average 60 Euros. www.mosuke-restaurant.com

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