Like an Italian sports car, Belgian chocolate or Swedish death metal played by people surgically altered to look like a 300 year old evil wood demon, some countries just do things better than other countries. The French have lunch. Follow me here for a second: What do people want for lunch? A salad? A sandwich? I mean, steak frites in my opinion is the best lunch money can buy and they are all frencher than an accordian made of baguettes. Americans may consider French food suitable for a special dinner, but without being fully conscience of it, we adore a good French lunch. There are thousands of restaurants across the United States that exist to give people the fantasy that they are having a leisurely hours long Parisian lunch.
So, being on a giant vacation, I was obliged on this beautiful sunny 82 degree afternoon to have a two hour long lunch at a lovely spot next to the École Militaire in the 7th arrondisement. We ate at a restaurant recommended by the TimeOut guide called Café du Marché (38, Rue Cler, Paris, 75007). The menu was a simple dozen dishes (5 salads, 7 entrées) and two specials written on a blackboard. The place was pretty crowded even at 2 pm, so I knew it was gonna be good.
The waitress was very busy, so we quickly ordered a salmon salad, a market salad and the roasted chicken. The salmon salad came with a Russian dressing that had a surprising and pleasant kick of horseradish. The market salad was a mix of French ham, silky terrine of foie gras, shredded carrots, yummy tomatoes, tabouleh, saurkraut and greens. The saurkraut was very lightly dressed in some French mayo and was perfect with the foie gras (further confirming my belief that cabbage is the cool new vegetable). The roasted chicken was pleasant but nothing special; however it came with fantastic mashed potatoes with a very herby hotel butter. The mashed potatoes were a beautiful almost saffron yellow and had a perfect balance of sweetness from the roasted potatoes, butter, and what tasted like some chicken broth. Finally, I was awakened from my food come by a café noisette (my new favorite drink- an espresso with a little milk).
Basically, I think the French look down on everybody or secretly consider them barbarians because, hey, if you lived and ate this well, wouldn’t you think everyone else was living wrong?
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