GASTRONOMIC REVIEW – The restaurant hasn’t changed but for a few weeks, the awning is brand new, a monster pizza oven is bulging out the chest and the menu is full of vowels.
Without being frankly optimistic about the (not necessarily Olympic) form of a Parisian restaurant which, with the promises of the next Games and holidays, risks not keeping much, one last address to end this strange season which will have done its best to hold out against bad luck. One last one for the road, for thirst, for hunger before going to see elsewhere if we eat there.
And the road which grows precisely on the side of this 15th which, even if it no longer really has the niac of twenty years ago when the bistros were budding there to invent a spring of the kind, still has this courtesy of putting the large city at the height of a village. There is certainly Haussmann on the facades, a Paname blue on the plaque on the rue Rosenwald but, for the rest, with the silence that mixes with it, the sidewalks very well behaved in their tar and this sky suddenly wide open above heads, we wouldn’t be far from sitting down to eat in a Paris like no other…
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