Once a trip, my husband suffers an ailment, generally of the gastrointestinal variety. Without veering further than I already have into “too much information” territory, suffice it to say I’ve had to learn how to be self sufficient for a meal (or two) more often than not in my travels, revisiting the art of dining on my own in an unfamiliar city, something that was certainly no challenge in my 20s.
As I write this, in fact, I’m sitting at a small table, by myself, at Les Enfants Rouge, a newish restaurant in the northern Marais; I’d been hearing enough buzz about it — perhaps on account of its chef, Daï Shinozuka, having worked many years under Yves Camdeborde at Le Comptoir de Relais — that I booked a table prior to leaving LA.
The good news for me is that the prix fixe here is a relative bargain at 38 euros, and the style of cuisine similar to Le Comptoir’s daytime and weekend menu. The bad news is the sheer volume of food has proven daunting without my usual partner, who is well known for his ability to finish whatever is on his plate, along with mine.
Wine-wise, I can recommend to a decent degree the modest list that includes a mix of natural fare, along with some more conventional bottles. It’s hardly the most daring of cartes des vins in the Parisian Bistronomy landscape (which may, in fact, make it more accessible to a broader public), but there’s plenty to drink. My glass of Villemade Sauvignon Blanc did not suck.
Stay tuned for further dispatches, perhaps of the solo variety should tomorrow prove a repeat of today. In that case, you might see a post from l’Avant Comptoir, or another spot that’s slightly less formal than tonight’s and more social in its format. Or, someone remind me to bring a book, as my Instagram feed can only distract me for so long — though writing a blog post has proven entertaining, and for once, nobody is sitting across from me telling me to put away my phone…