Chez la Vieille 37, rue de l'Arbre Sec, in the 1st Arrondissement.
01 42 60 15 78. Sat: dinner only. Closed Sun.
I first learned about this tiny bistro from Hungry for Paris, that excellent book of bedtime stories by Alexander Lobrano. He recounts, in his review of Chez la Vieille, his first encounter with the namesake old lady (the long-retired Adrienne Biasin), as well as the things (classic dishes, cheek pinching) that came from her hand.
My first meal there was memorable for reasons that had nothing to do with the food. The evening began with a visit to (the soon-to-be) Spring restaurant on the rue Bailleul, where I found the construction site overrun by models and wolves. As the fashion shoot was winding down, Daniel Rose proposed a late dinner across the street. He punched in the door code (required to gain entry), and we walked into a time machine that took us 40 years into the past. I tried to keep my mouth closed as I took in the scene: faux wood paneling on both the walls and the bar . . . a clock that would not have been out of place at my grandparents' country club in South Dakota . . . and Juliette Binoche.
When we sat, an avalanche of hors d'oeuvres—thick terrines, rémoulades and other anachronistic fare—arrived at our table. The spread and the interior matched the loving description by Lobrano, but the rest of the meal was mildly disappointing. The sautéed liver and near-perfect gratin were both satisfying, but my sea scallops came dressed in a sauce that was nacho-cheez orange and tasted of salt. As much as I was endeared to the decor, I wasn't planning to hurry back for the food.
Then last week Lobrano himself invited me to go. How could I say no to a rematch with the man who wrote the original inspiration? He was visiting for the third time since the kitchen had been taken over by Michel del Burgo (see Lobrano's more detailed and enlightening review here). Because the new chef had done time at Le Bristol and Taillevent, the evening promised to include Serious Food.
Entering the "new" Old Lady's Place, I saw that the decor was exactly the same—ugly, dated and utterly charming. The gastronomic experience, however, turned out to be completely different. In place of the heavy terrines (and other hors d'oeuvres, which were nowhere to be seen), the first edible offering was a light-as-air gougère. The finesse continued into the first course: seared foie gras with caramelized edges resting on a bed of "forgotten vegetables," and a mushroom ravioli wearing a blanket of thick black truffle (top). The momentum held while we devoured our mains—two common proteins treated with both wit and technical precision. On my plate: an elegant take on beef Stroganoff with thick cream, diminutive mushrooms and a side of onion gratin. Across the table and slightly less to my liking: grilled scallops overtaken by white foam (what is this, ZKG?) with fresh hazelnuts and endives. We finished with dessert—a passable moelleux and a surprising licorice-scented panna cotta—and then we finished again with two glasses of Vieille Prune.
As much as I enjoyed the meal, it must be said that del Burgo's cuisine, which is smart, precise and playful, seemed a bit out of place in this old-fashioned space. That's not necessarily a bad thing—I for one was charmed by the disconnect between dining room and dinner. It doesn't bother me (in fact, I love it) when a single night lets me touch both truffles and a faux wood toilet paper holder. My Kansas upbringing may have something to do with that, but Binoche seems to love it too.
In a nutshell: Smart and modern French cooking against the backdrop of an endearingly dog-eared dining room. Nostalgia never tasted so good. Count 60–80 euros for three courses, and be sure to ask for the door code when you reserve.
If you like the sound of Chez la Vieille but want a more bustling scene:
La Tour de Montlhéry (Chez Denise) 5, rue des Prouvaires, in the 1st.
01 42 36 21 82.
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Chez la Vieille
by Lamar C
Wednesday, January 20, 2010 at 11:51 AM
By Meg Zimbeck
Chez la Vieille
37, rue de l'Arbre Sec, in the 1st Arrondissement.
01 42 60 15 78. Sat: dinner only. Closed Sun.
I first learned about this tiny bistro from Hungry for Paris, that excellent book of bedtime stories by Alexander Lobrano. He recounts, in his review of Chez la Vieille, his first encounter with the namesake old lady (the long-retired Adrienne Biasin), as well as the things (classic dishes, cheek pinching) that came from her hand.
My first meal there was memorable for reasons that had nothing to do with the food. The evening began with a visit to (the soon-to-be) Spring restaurant on the rue Bailleul, where I found the construction site overrun by models and wolves. As the fashion shoot was winding down, Daniel Rose proposed a late dinner across the street. He punched in the door code (required to gain entry), and we walked into a time machine that took us 40 years into the past. I tried to keep my mouth closed as I took in the scene: faux wood paneling on both the walls and the bar . . . a clock that would not have been out of place at my grandparents' country club in South Dakota . . . and Juliette Binoche.
When we sat, an avalanche of hors d'oeuvres—thick terrines, rémoulades and other anachronistic fare—arrived at our table. The spread and the interior matched the loving description by Lobrano, but the rest of the meal was mildly disappointing. The sautéed liver and near-perfect gratin were both satisfying, but my sea scallops came dressed in a sauce that was nacho-cheez orange and tasted of salt. As much as I was endeared to the decor, I wasn't planning to hurry back for the food.
Then last week Lobrano himself invited me to go. How could I say no to a rematch with the man who wrote the original inspiration? He was visiting for the third time since the kitchen had been taken over by Michel del Burgo (see Lobrano's more detailed and enlightening review here). Because the new chef had done time at Le Bristol and Taillevent, the evening promised to include Serious Food.
Entering the "new" Old Lady's Place, I saw that the decor was exactly the same—ugly, dated and utterly charming. The gastronomic experience, however, turned out to be completely different. In place of the heavy terrines (and other hors d'oeuvres, which were nowhere to be seen), the first edible offering was a light-as-air gougère. The finesse continued into the first course: seared foie gras with caramelized edges resting on a bed of "forgotten vegetables," and a mushroom ravioli wearing a blanket of thick black truffle (top). The momentum held while we devoured our mains—two common proteins treated with both wit and technical precision. On my plate: an elegant take on beef Stroganoff with thick cream, diminutive mushrooms and a side of onion gratin. Across the table and slightly less to my liking: grilled scallops overtaken by white foam (what is this, ZKG?) with fresh hazelnuts and endives. We finished with dessert—a passable moelleux and a surprising licorice-scented panna cotta—and then we finished again with two glasses of Vieille Prune.
As much as I enjoyed the meal, it must be said that del Burgo's cuisine, which is smart, precise and playful, seemed a bit out of place in this old-fashioned space. That's not necessarily a bad thing—I for one was charmed by the disconnect between dining room and dinner. It doesn't bother me (in fact, I love it) when a single night lets me touch both truffles and a faux wood toilet paper holder. My Kansas upbringing may have something to do with that, but Binoche seems to love it too.
In a nutshell: Smart and modern French cooking against the backdrop of an endearingly dog-eared dining room. Nostalgia never tasted so good. Count 60–80 euros for three courses, and be sure to ask for the door code when you reserve.
If you like the sound of Chez la Vieille but want a more bustling scene:
La Tour de Montlhéry (Chez Denise)
5, rue des Prouvaires, in the 1st.
01 42 36 21 82.