Lunch in Paris.
Green & Blue go to Paris for lunch and have gorgeous natural wines with a side order of frustration. By Kate
This week, it was time to go toParis
This occasion was the annual Green & Blue management outing/ field trip so while this report may appear to tell of unbridled hedonism, it was in fact a serious and considered study of how natural wine bars and shops in Paris compare to what we are doing in London.
Eight of us, including Dad who is visiting fromAmerica France , fresh from the muffled dark of the tunnel, was toasted with Larmandier-Bernier Blanc de Blancs and we arrived at Gare du Nord in the most glorious Autumn sunshine; akin to what we had enjoyed in London only somehow better because it was Paris
We decided to walk which was not an obvious decision as Jude was hobbling on a badly sprained ankle. The day was so fabulous though, any other decision would have been criminal and we were all in excellent spirits when we finally arrived at Les Fines Gueules, a tiny wine bar in the Opera area. It was full of happy looking Parisians eating and drinking but we had been sensible enough to book and so a slightly harassed man pointed us up some winding, narrow stairs to a crooked little room with French windows which opened up onto a veryParisian street It was perfect.
Waiting for ages for anyone to come and find out what we wanted to order was considerably less perfect and I did not help matters by eventually going downstairs to try to prise some biodynamic wine out of someone. We work in this industry and so we know that there are few things more annoying than customers who won’t sit down when you are running around like a maniac trying to accomplish 18 different things at once.
The reception I got was terse to say the least, but I did manage to order a selection ofLoire sparklers – a white, red and rose. The white was a truly delicious sparkling Vouvray with obvious but not intrusive residual sugar and bracing grapefruit acidity. From a grower called Sebastien Brunet, who we don’t know, it is one we are definitely going to investigate further.
The sparkling rose was almost better. The same vibrant fruit but drier, with a very slightly chalky minerality in a beautifully labelled bottle. Again, producers we didn’t know but want to know more now – Lise and Bertrand Jousset. Really, really lovely wines all – pure, drinkable and alive on the palate.
The food was good – I had a white fish which was very simply grilled and served with vegetables - a very hearty portion, perfectly cooked. We proposed many and varied toasts and it was very jolly all round. Once the sparkling wine started running down, we moved onto a completely delicious rose from Nicolas Grosbois, the producer of the biodynamic Chinon which we stock. Crisp, sappy and multi-layered, this was amazing wine – one of those Roses that deserves as much respect as any ostensibly more serious wine. We decided then and there that we had to hunt it down and stock it ourselves, as soon as possible.
See – lots of work going on too.
Desserts were not quite as good as the main courses but by that time the wine was working its natural magic and we were too wrapped up in trying to match music on our ipods to the eating of the selection (lemon tart, something very chocolaty and Tirimisu). Sadly, this level of ridiculous pretention is all too easily reached in our profession but it is quite a lot of fun and seriously, the right music does make the food taste better. You won’t be surprised to hear that Barry White and Chocolate is a match made in heaven.
We finally left, having made great friends with the owner and his team, and, at his behest, decided not to proceed to a bar called Racine but instead to walk a few blocks to a shop called La Garde Robe, a place specialising in natural wines which was open all afternoon and which served wine to drink on the premises and to take away. Clearly, it was all just meant to be.
Sadly, it wasn’t. We arrived to find a Jeraboam of Arkmenine Sancerre (one of our most favourite and extraordinary natural wines) in the window and the shop resolutely shut. We peered in and it did seem exactly what we wanted. A bit shabby chic and ramshackle, we could see shelves bristling with many of our favourite biodynamic labels. The situation became ever crueller when the man across the road told us that they had shut about 5 minutes before we arrived as nothing was going on. They would, however, be open again at 5pm, he assured us.
This was a tragedy but, buoyed by lunch, we were in no mood to be dismayed. A taxi screeching to a halt to drop off some people decided us. An advance party would take the cab to Racine
Paris
We waited.
Moments later we heard shouting from the far side of the busy avenue. Amit had managed to capture a cab by climbing in before the driver could say ‘Non!’ while other passengers clambered out. As his determination not to move outweighed his lack of French, the driver reluctantly capitulated.
Racine
“Is the taxi still there?” I demanded, starting to lower myself into our cab.
“Well, perhaps you should find one and come back here and we’ll have a drink somewhere else while we wait for La Garde Robe to open at 5pm,” I suggested.
As our bemused driver started to buckle in and check his mirrors, we decided that this was probably the best idea.
“We have to get out!” I declared “Racine
Everyone, except the driver, looked confused.
“We’ll have a drink at that place across the road till 5pm,” I explained confidently.
We began to get out of the car as I uttered a profusion of ‘très désolés’. The entire event, from a cab invasion by four slightly pissed foreigners to the wholesale desertion of the vehicle had taken no more than 40 seconds. The driver now looked not only confused but utterly amazed.
At around 5pm, we saw movement at the door of The Shop and, keen as mustard, gathered our belongings and started to head over. The place remained in darkness though. We stood for a few seconds before Amit tried the door. It was open. Surely an invitation?
As we discussed whether this meant we could enter, a lady who was sitting with two gentlemen at a pavement table to the left of us sprang up.
“We are closed!” she barked with a terrible finality that did not brook any argument.
We regarded her with considerable amazement before Amit began to very calmly explain that we had first been told they were open all afternoon and then that they opened at 5pm.
“Non!” she barked again, obviously irritated by our failure to merely slope off. “We open at 6pm today.”
“Even the shop?” persisted Amit. “Can’t we just buy some wine from the shop? We want to buy quite a lot of wine and we’ll give you the exact money.”
“Listen to me, Monsieur,” replied Princess Charming, “The till is closed until 6pm.” She made a very definite ‘closed’ gesture with her hands.
Amit looked at me helplessly. I was in absolutely no mood, after that reception, to even try to charm our way in, but I forced a smile.
“Madame, we have come all the way fromLondon
“I am busy now!” she almost screamed, gesturing at her two drinking companions who had the good grace to look deeply shamed by the unfolding scenario. “We do not open before 6pm today.” She turned her back on us, to make it final.
It is, thankfully, pretty rare that one comes across a level of customer service quite this abysmal inEngland
We went back to our bar. Jude called. They were finding it completely impossible to get a cab back to us. They had finally managed to stop one who then decided that he didn’t want to take them after all and so they were going to walk back to Gare du Nord and find somewhere near there to have a drink.
It was starting to feel like le toutParis
Amit, for his part, was quietly fuming. “Maybe she really just didn’t understand?” he mused. “She wouldn’t have been so rude if she had realised how much we wanted to buy some of her wine. Maybe she thought that we were just ignorant tourists who didn’t care whether we drank rubbish or really lovely wine.”
Europe . He promised to do this if his attempt at persuasion failed.
It did of course. We watched him passionately argue his case while the two companions again looked mortified. At one point, she leapt to her feet with such ferocity that we feared Amit was about to get punched in the face.
Thankfully not but still, the lady was absolutely not for turning into a shopkeeper who gave a toss.
And so we finally made it back to Gare du Nord, not clutching precious bottles of deliciously alive wine and not a little bemused by the afternoon’s events. The day was still a gem but it could have ended on a considerably higher note than it did.
The opening hours of establishments in one of the greatest cities on the planet is now a really rather onerous burden for the visitor. If you don’t have plenty of time to return at a later stage, or you have been unlucky enough (as we were) to carefully note down opening times from various web sites which bear no relation at all to reality, then you are in for a very frustrating time.
We decided that on our next visit, we would find a place with plenty of delicious wine and chain ourselves to the table until it was time for the train back. This is certainly one solution although on visits which are supposed to be about sampling as many establishments as possible, it is rather a shame.
This week, it was time to go to
This occasion was the annual Green & Blue management outing/ field trip so while this report may appear to tell of unbridled hedonism, it was in fact a serious and considered study of how natural wine bars and shops in Paris compare to what we are doing in London.
Eight of us, including Dad who is visiting from
We decided to walk which was not an obvious decision as Jude was hobbling on a badly sprained ankle. The day was so fabulous though, any other decision would have been criminal and we were all in excellent spirits when we finally arrived at Les Fines Gueules, a tiny wine bar in the Opera area. It was full of happy looking Parisians eating and drinking but we had been sensible enough to book and so a slightly harassed man pointed us up some winding, narrow stairs to a crooked little room with French windows which opened up onto a very
Waiting for ages for anyone to come and find out what we wanted to order was considerably less perfect and I did not help matters by eventually going downstairs to try to prise some biodynamic wine out of someone. We work in this industry and so we know that there are few things more annoying than customers who won’t sit down when you are running around like a maniac trying to accomplish 18 different things at once.
The reception I got was terse to say the least, but I did manage to order a selection of
The sparkling rose was almost better. The same vibrant fruit but drier, with a very slightly chalky minerality in a beautifully labelled bottle. Again, producers we didn’t know but want to know more now – Lise and Bertrand Jousset. Really, really lovely wines all – pure, drinkable and alive on the palate.
The food was good – I had a white fish which was very simply grilled and served with vegetables - a very hearty portion, perfectly cooked. We proposed many and varied toasts and it was very jolly all round. Once the sparkling wine started running down, we moved onto a completely delicious rose from Nicolas Grosbois, the producer of the biodynamic Chinon which we stock. Crisp, sappy and multi-layered, this was amazing wine – one of those Roses that deserves as much respect as any ostensibly more serious wine. We decided then and there that we had to hunt it down and stock it ourselves, as soon as possible.
See – lots of work going on too.
Desserts were not quite as good as the main courses but by that time the wine was working its natural magic and we were too wrapped up in trying to match music on our ipods to the eating of the selection (lemon tart, something very chocolaty and Tirimisu). Sadly, this level of ridiculous pretention is all too easily reached in our profession but it is quite a lot of fun and seriously, the right music does make the food taste better. You won’t be surprised to hear that Barry White and Chocolate is a match made in heaven.
We finally left, having made great friends with the owner and his team, and, at his behest, decided not to proceed to a bar called Racine but instead to walk a few blocks to a shop called La Garde Robe, a place specialising in natural wines which was open all afternoon and which served wine to drink on the premises and to take away.
Sadly, it wasn’t. We arrived to find a Jeraboam of Arkmenine Sancerre (one of our most favourite and extraordinary natural wines) in the window and the shop resolutely shut. We peered in and it did seem exactly what we wanted. A bit shabby chic and ramshackle, we could see shelves bristling with many of our favourite biodynamic labels. The situation became ever crueller when the man across the road told us that they had shut about 5 minutes before we arrived as nothing was going on. They would, however, be open again at 5pm, he assured us.
Moments later we heard shouting from the far side of the busy avenue. Amit had managed to capture a cab by climbing in before the driver could say ‘Non!’ while other passengers clambered out. As his determination not to move outweighed his lack of French, the driver reluctantly capitulated.
“Is the taxi still there?” I demanded, starting to lower myself into our cab.
“Well, perhaps you should find one and come back here and we’ll have a drink somewhere else while we wait for La Garde Robe to open at 5pm,” I suggested.
As our bemused driver started to buckle in and check his mirrors, we decided that this was probably the best idea.
“We have to get out!” I declared “
Everyone, except the driver, looked confused.
“We’ll have a drink at that place across the road till 5pm,” I explained confidently.
We began to get out of the car as I uttered a profusion of ‘très désolés’. The entire event, from a cab invasion by four slightly pissed foreigners to the wholesale desertion of the vehicle had taken no more than 40 seconds. The driver now looked not only confused but utterly amazed.
At around 5pm, we saw movement at the door of The Shop and, keen as mustard, gathered our belongings and started to head over. The place remained in darkness though. We stood for a few seconds before Amit tried the door.
As we discussed whether this meant we could enter, a lady who was sitting with two gentlemen at a pavement table to the left of us sprang up.
“We are closed!” she barked with a terrible finality that did not brook any argument.
We regarded her with considerable amazement before Amit began to very calmly explain that we had first been told they were open all afternoon and then that they opened at 5pm.
“Non!” she barked again, obviously irritated by our failure to merely slope off. “We open at 6pm today.”
“Even the shop?” persisted Amit. “Can’t we just buy some wine from the shop? We want to buy quite a lot of wine and we’ll give you the exact money.”
“Listen to me, Monsieur,” replied Princess Charming, “The till is closed until 6pm.” She made a very definite ‘closed’ gesture with her hands.
Amit looked at me helplessly. I was in absolutely no mood, after that reception, to even try to charm our way in, but I forced a smile.
“Madame, we have come all the way from
“I am busy now!” she almost screamed, gesturing at her two drinking companions who had the good grace to look deeply shamed by the unfolding scenario.
It is, thankfully, pretty rare that one comes across a level of customer service quite this abysmal in
We went back to our bar. Jude called. They were finding it completely impossible to get a cab back to us. They had finally managed to stop one who then decided that he didn’t want to take them after all and so they were going to walk back to Gare du Nord and find somewhere near there to have a drink.
It was starting to feel like le tout
Amit, for his part, was quietly fuming.
It did of course. We watched him passionately argue his case while the two companions again looked mortified. At one point, she leapt to her feet with such ferocity that we feared Amit was about to get punched in the face.
And so we finally made it back to Gare du Nord, not clutching precious bottles of deliciously alive wine and not a little bemused by the afternoon’s events. The day was still a gem but it could have ended on a considerably higher note than it did.
The opening hours of establishments in one of the greatest cities on the planet is now a really rather onerous burden for the visitor. If you don’t have plenty of time to return at a later stage, or you have been unlucky enough (as we were) to carefully note down opening times from various web sites which bear no relation at all to reality, then you are in for a very frustrating time.
We decided that on our next visit, we would find a place with plenty of delicious wine and chain ourselves to the table until it was time for the train back. This is certainly one solution although on visits which are supposed to be about sampling as many establishments as possible, it is rather a shame.
Paris
