Paris Journal 2014 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com

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The Champ de Mars is the site of many special events; often, these are events you’d never think of, even in your more creative daydreams. After arriving at the Champ, we sat, as we often do, on a bench beneath the trees lining the edge of the open space that runs through the middle. That space is anchored by the Peace Pavilion on one end, and the incomparable Eiffel Tower on the other. We were closer to the Peace Pavilion end, and we gazed out at the people on the grass, in particular, we watched a couple of young newlyweds cavorting in their wedding attire with a bunch of very casually dressed friends and children. It was a happy scene. Toward the other end of the Champ, we could see large balloons floating in the air, and little white tents that are often used for outdoor fairs and exhibitions here in Paris. When we walked up there, we discovered that the to-do was an information fair about the economy of the part of Japan hardest hit by the earthquake and Fukushima disaster. The people there are recovering from the economic consequences of the earthquake, but it has been a struggle. At first, we thought the event was in the process of being set up; but later, we decided it was probably in the beginning stages of being dismantled. We walked on to the garden of the Musée du Quai Branly, where we sat and meditated in the igloo-like structure that has fascinating grasses growing all over its roof. There, we decided that next we’d walk along the Seine, but in the direction away from the crowded Berge project. By descending to the Seine directly across from the Musée, we avoided the bothersome fences erected by the trolls of the Port de la Bourdonnais. Instead, we were headed into Bateaux Parisiens territory. In spite of the throngs of people, there was plenty of space for flaneurs like us. We paused to enjoy various sights, like a mime who wore fatigues and looked like he’d been rolled in concrete dust. There are lots of little outdoor eateries set up in the vast paved area where many of the tourist boats wait to be boarded. There is a bistro in dry dock, too, and at another fixed barge, I saw a sign for the public toilets. I’d been looking for that, so I went down and paid my 50 euro cents to one of the attendants. In spite of the constant flow of people in and out of that tiny facility, the attendants were doing a nice job of keeping the place clean. We walked on, to the southwest, and soon there were no crowds at all. We walked alongside a long series of houseboat/barges – all so interesting and uniquely outfitted by their eccentric occupants. Then there was a long stretch with no boats, right across from a long section of the Allée des Cygnes. That is one beautiful, long, serene section of the Seine. Tom noted that it is ironic that this stretch of the Seine, where the not-so-Parisian Front de Seine high-rises are located, is the most peaceful and calm length of riverbank for flaneurs. [A flaneur is someone who strolls about aimlessly.] In there somewhere is a resto called La Plage. We walked the narrow edge of the bank between the resto and the water, looking through the glass, into its comfortable, large dining room where one family was already eating dinner, at the incredibly early time of 6:50PM. Then we walked past the outdoor terrasse for La Plage; it looks inviting, especially on a gorgeous evening like yesterday’s. Only one terrasse table was occupied, by two young women. Finally, at the Pont Mirabeau, we ascended the ramp to the street level, right where the cute little old Javel train station sits, all decked out in its pagoda style with gingerbread trim. It is a busy RER commuter station now, and when a train has just disgorged its passengers there, look out! Those people are always in an awful hurry. We negotiated our way through some of those frenzied folks and found ourselves at last on the familiar avenue Émile Zola. From there, we took our time, wandering and resting on a couple of benches, and at last we were near our dinner reservation and it was nearly the dinner hour of 8PM. When we entered Bistrot d’en Face, there was another table or two occupied, and a woman sat drinking at the bar. She wasn’t really alone; she seemed to know the people running the bistro and bar quite well. I saw crutches propped up against a wall near her; maybe that’s why she didn’t move from her bar stool the entire time we were in the bistro. We were warmly greeted, as if the proprietors knew our name, even when this was our first time at Bistrot d’en Face. But after all, I had reserved. We were speaking French, and were offered an English menu but with the acknowledgement that probably we really wanted the French menu. We agreed that we wanted the French menu, but I took the opportunity to compliment the owner on the high-quality translation on the English menu. “The best I’ve seen in Paris,” I told him. He beamed, and gave the credit to two of his colleagues. I loved the look of the bistro’s interior. Instead of the ubiquitous and undersized bistro tables, this place had a nice collection of old wood tables with some heft and character. The tables were not crowded together. The walls were all deep red or deep brownish red or dark wood – everywhere. The lighting was indirect and romantic, but was done in a personalized, non-decorator fashion. Somehow the letter “B” was projected onto the ceiling by some light hidden somewhere. The walls displayed lots of framed black-and-white photographs, featuring an eclectic assortment of celebrities, sports stars, and urban skylines at night. An old wooden upright piano and well-displayed liquor bottles added more to the ambiance. The maroon velvet-covered banquette on which I sat was unusually comfortable; it had some give in it, with real springs within the upholstery. This was no hard bench covered in a thin layer of foam with fabric on top. I relished the comfort after the hours of walking. The total effect of the physical place was warmth, comfort, and effortless, sincere old-fashioned charm. I’d come back just for the ambiance; but there’s even more to this bistro. An article from Pudlo Paris tells me that the owners are two young men, Julien Doria and Hervé Sénéchal. Their chef is Stéphane Grillon. The place has two entrances; one at 24 rue Docteur Finlay, and the other at 1 rue Sextius Michel. I detect a bit of Spanish and Italian influence in the menu, with its “Cajun” supreme de poulet, Serrano ham, and gazpacho Andalou. But there is also a definite southern, southeastern France influence. We were both very hungry from our long walk and lack of much food during the day; yet we knew, somehow, that we could not manage three courses each. It was a tough decision, but I decided to forego the starter course because, there on the tempting list of desserts, was a soufflé au chocolat Valrhona. Do you know about Valrhona chocolate? It is a chocoholic’s dream. My main course was a dos de cabillaud en croute de tomates sechées, ecrasé de pomme de terre aux olives. On the English menu, the bistro calls this « cod fish in tomato crust, crushed potatoes with olives. » I’d say it was “cod encrusted with sun-dried tomatoes, smashed potatoes with olives.” The “crust” wasn’t very crusty, but no matter; those sun-dried tomatoes were delicious, and the perfect garnish for the cod. I just wish there was more of that garnish. The cod was perfectly cooked, I’d say, and I am picky about fish. The potatoes with olives were delicious. Tom ordered the Cajun chicken, and it was excellent, although not as spicy as the name implies. It came with puréed potatoes which were velvety, substantial, and superior, Tom said. We each ordered our own Valrhona chocolate soufflé. That was good, because the soufflé was small, and it came with a little scoop of vanilla ice cream. The chef wisely did not use too much sugar in the soufflé, allowing the rich, dark chocolate taste to reign. The bread served with the dinner deserves mention; it was not an afterthought. The bread was excellent. I almost asked for butter to go with it, but I refrained. Wine is not really sold by the glass at this bistro; but in each category on the wine list, there is one marked “compteur,” meaning that you pay for what you drink. I ordered a glass of chardonnay, and the generous pour only cost 4.50 euros. The value is great at Bistrot d’en Face. We were there with a discount from LaFourchette.com. But even without a discount, the prices are reasonable at this superb bistro, and the servings are not too meager. Most importantly, the quality and freshness are there. Bravo, Chef Stéphane! The twenty-minute walk home was just right. We certainly did sleep well! Find me on Facebook

Saturday, August 30, 2014 Mime on the riverbank, near the Bateaux Parisiens. The Bistrot d’en Face, on the rue Sextius Michel side. The cod with sun-dried tomato topping (above) and Cajun chicken (below). A not-too-sweet Valrhona chocolate soufflé and scoop of vanilla ice cream. ← Previous Next →