“Le Mesturet” in Paris, a treat of… disappointment at the bottom of the plate…

It's the story of two minutes of television zapping. The owner of the restaurant “Le Mesturet” explains that he fought for several years to have the social usefulness of the approximately 30,000 bistros still remaining in France recognized. There were still 200,000 in the 1960s. He explains that he makes high-quality bistro cuisine, between veal's head and rabbit purée. I am naive enough to believe this sales pitch. Line 14 is close (Pyramides). The area is very pleasant with the National Library, the Bank of France, the Vivienne Gallery; all bordered by rue Croix des Petits Champs.

PARIS : Let's go, I said to myself, comforted by lapping up a glass of white wine at the counter, with the good smell coming from the kitchens. A sign that normally does not deceive. Except here…

When you push the door open around 12:30 p.m., there are already people in the room. Jennifer is the room manager. As for Nina, it's her first service! The decoration is very personalized: bottom of bottles, old books. Needless to say, the place has a beautiful soul.

Well, the writing on the wine list resembles that of insurance contracts or bank loans, with its small lines as characteristic as they are illegible.
The food menu looks tempting. But, it will not stand the test of facts that constitutes tasting the plates. Only my entry is good. It’s breaded veal brains with virgin sauce. The flavors are precise, the breading is clean, and the seasoning pleasantly completes this good plate. The other entry, that of the friend-guest (frog legs) must have lingered in the past, and arrived less than lukewarm, too bad…

A real inconvenience with uncooked and unleavened industrial bread

In this rather cosmopolitan place, I notice that the chicken fries of our three Romanian neighbors are rather lacking in the juice indicated on the menu. A word about the industrial bread (paw?) served here, soft and not cooked, because it is not leavened. Would there not be a baker worthy of the name in the neighborhood, rather than inflicting such inconvenience on us? Especially when we claim to defend the bistro tradition? Is this how we welcome our guests, who sometimes come from far away?

After an hour, after the starters were cleared, we finally managed to be served the rest, without a word of apology, of course, let's move on….My veal blanquette (20.50 euros) is very ordinary: the pieces of shoulder are poorly peeled, covered in a sauce with canned mushrooms (half a ladle of extra sauce would not have bothered me). Only Creole rice is correct. I expected to enjoy myself, that was not the case. Ditto for the friend's calf's head: without any taste interest.

The “terroir crate”: the only thing that matters!

But the worst is to come with (I quote) the real “Paris-Brest” praline cream, small appetites refrain, offered at 9.90 euros. A large pastry arrives with a hint of industrial flavor with a filling cream, more like Christian etouffe (and the others too for that matter!). In this bad dessert, we don't see any trace of praline, because yes, a good praline (we think of those made by companies like Valrhona or Michel CLUZEL), it's expensive, of course, but it's so good!

The “Paris-Brest” is a large cake which has a history, since its creation at the end of the 19th century, by a Parisian pastry chef, to honor the first eponymous cycling race. He in no way deserves such treatment. We would have greatly preferred the less copious version but correctly made, with simply good products.
It was time to stop the massacre, after this bad lunch in this “gargote” where customers were shamelessly made fun of. Here, one thing seems to prevail: the “caisse terroir”! Poor customers here, but also elsewhere. An address to forget very quickly, it's a shame. See you soon, in a better table!