Tout a commencé aujourd'hui : j'ai découvert un endroit qui m'a donné envie de blogger.
Tout simplement.
J'inaugure en anglais - cet endroit étant tenu par un couple d'américains. Enjoy.
Not that the whole “it’s american but it’s not hamburgers” description Laura gave me of her restaurant wasn’t appealing enough but the very first reason why I was dying to go there wasn’t food, it was them.
It wasn’t about reviews or food critics or advice or websites or menus or prices or whatever, it was litterally about wanting to go and find out more about this intriguing couple, how they see things, food, Paris, bread.
I just love the way I found out about this place, and everything that followed. That night at l’Ami Jean - my boyfriend and I’s favorite restaurant in Paris - was one of these moments you just love thinking back about and smile. We started by sitting down pissed off because we weren’t close enough from Stephane - head chef - in his open kitchen, which instantly put pressure on us because the two last time we’d been there ended up being a surreal blend of Heston Blumenthal and Jean-François Piège, drinks and cigares with the Chef, staying until 1 and not wanting to go home, ever. At this point we had given up on our “overtaking last times”. We spoke too soon. This table we were given was - after crab and Liguria - the best thing that happened to us. Well, barely exagerated. “Have some of ours, we’re drunk already” refered to this bottle of Morgon they were having trouble finishing (were they?) and insantly decided to share with us. Bit of nos and politness and bull** and here we were, experiencing what I’d like to call a brilliant talk. They had been eveywhere we daily dream of going to: El Bulli, Noma, but not the Fat Duck - ouf! “We have a restaurant in the 1st” came a bit later, and we still couldn’t figure out who we were dealing with, really. That’s when I asked the stupidest “what kind of food is it?” question and got what I deserved - see 5th to 10th words. They were having desserts when we were waiting for starters - which at l’Ami Jean means about 16 hours apart -, and they still stayed for half our meal, moaning about our dishes being nicer than the ones they had had - loved it “they like you better!” haha. Anyways, good start. We swore we would go and have dinner at their’s the following monday, I ended up going without the boyfriend about a month later- which cost me quite an angry text, but then again, worth it.
This place is everything you think you would love, but more. It couldn’t be frenchier, but yet has this hint of “somewhere else” that’s hard to define, it’s small, cosy, minimalist, besoting. It’s one of these places you’d think you’ll have loads to talk about and end up saying “just go, you’ll see, it’s undescribable”. Well I might go for the easy one.
You get a choice: loads or more. I went for loads, and left wanting more.
Tout simplement.
J'inaugure en anglais - cet endroit étant tenu par un couple d'américains. Enjoy.
Not that the whole “it’s american but it’s not hamburgers” description Laura gave me of her restaurant wasn’t appealing enough but the very first reason why I was dying to go there wasn’t food, it was them.
It wasn’t about reviews or food critics or advice or websites or menus or prices or whatever, it was litterally about wanting to go and find out more about this intriguing couple, how they see things, food, Paris, bread.
I just love the way I found out about this place, and everything that followed. That night at l’Ami Jean - my boyfriend and I’s favorite restaurant in Paris - was one of these moments you just love thinking back about and smile. We started by sitting down pissed off because we weren’t close enough from Stephane - head chef - in his open kitchen, which instantly put pressure on us because the two last time we’d been there ended up being a surreal blend of Heston Blumenthal and Jean-François Piège, drinks and cigares with the Chef, staying until 1 and not wanting to go home, ever. At this point we had given up on our “overtaking last times”. We spoke too soon. This table we were given was - after crab and Liguria - the best thing that happened to us. Well, barely exagerated. “Have some of ours, we’re drunk already” refered to this bottle of Morgon they were having trouble finishing (were they?) and insantly decided to share with us. Bit of nos and politness and bull** and here we were, experiencing what I’d like to call a brilliant talk. They had been eveywhere we daily dream of going to: El Bulli, Noma, but not the Fat Duck - ouf! “We have a restaurant in the 1st” came a bit later, and we still couldn’t figure out who we were dealing with, really. That’s when I asked the stupidest “what kind of food is it?” question and got what I deserved - see 5th to 10th words. They were having desserts when we were waiting for starters - which at l’Ami Jean means about 16 hours apart -, and they still stayed for half our meal, moaning about our dishes being nicer than the ones they had had - loved it “they like you better!” haha. Anyways, good start. We swore we would go and have dinner at their’s the following monday, I ended up going without the boyfriend about a month later- which cost me quite an angry text, but then again, worth it.
This place is everything you think you would love, but more. It couldn’t be frenchier, but yet has this hint of “somewhere else” that’s hard to define, it’s small, cosy, minimalist, besoting. It’s one of these places you’d think you’ll have loads to talk about and end up saying “just go, you’ll see, it’s undescribable”. Well I might go for the easy one.
You get a choice: loads or more. I went for loads, and left wanting more.
