Food in Paris is a quintessential experience, almost always at least a one or two hour affair and nearly always exquisite. Of course, such an experience can be hard to find as it is in any city, even one with one of the highest per-capitas of Michelin quality establishments as Paris does. Luckilly for my family and myself, we found a small diamond in the rough that had the quality of food, the service and the atmosphere one expects without the hassle.
My parents and I were understandably exhausted after our excursion to the Louvre and the Eiffel tower. Our snack at the tower had left a lot to be desired, and we were famished for some real, good food that was really close to the hotel. Our tour folks had suggested many marvelous restaurants including several with the distinct notation of being Michelin star rated. We didn’t want to do these though, but we really couldn’t decide what else to go for.
On a whim, I suggested we go downstairs and ask the young
woman at the desk for a recommendation.
She looked at me with a little smile and answered, “Oui! Le Bonne Excuse” and gave me directions to
get there. As a backup plan, we got
directions to another restaurant we’d been recommended and set out down the
street. I don’t know what grace was
watching us that night, but the experience at this restaurant was one of those
miracle moments like the many we had experienced in Japan.
“Le Bonne Excuse” is a tiny restaurant run by two people, husband (chef/owner) and
wife (hostess, waitress, sommelier and gracious co-owner.) From the outside, it’s a very simple, not
impressive building, and inside it probably couldn’t hold more than 10 - -12
tables or a maximum of forty people in capacity.
When we approached, they peered out at us with a moment’s hesitation. “Did we have reservations?”
No of course not.
We looked at one another confused and explained that we had simply heard
a recommendation from the Hotel D’Orsay to come specifically to this place. The woman looked to the man and almost
immediately I could see him smile. The
formality of reservation immediately vanished and she swept her arm wide. “Come in come in!”
We stared. Was it
any imposition? We didn’t want to cause
a problem.
“No, it is no problem.
It is still early and we can make room.
Please, come and sit.”
She brought us menus and for the next hour we were in a
state of bliss that is so sorely lacking in most American restaurant
cuisine. The French don’t like to rush
you. They wont even take a single dish
until everyone is completely done. This
was our first experience of this quality, and what a quality it was. The meal was superb, the wine, the food, the
atmosphere, everything was absolutely perfect.
The woman/owner was extremely friendly, speaking with the
most remarkably immaculate English we’d heard so far. Even if she could not explain things as
beautifully and precisely as she could in French, she gave a distinct
impression of each dish. They served
seasonal faire, and always everything fresh.
The menu changed on a weekly basis, and only a few things remained
because of popular demand.
“We want guests to have a good experience,” She
explained. They ran their restaurant
exactly according to that philosophy. The
place was small and intimate, so no customer would be forgotten, and the two of
them worked in tandem despite the limited space they themselves used for the
cooking.
I started with a fresh vegetable salad, which was quite
delicious. When I was done, the woman
came over and asked, “Did you detect the secret of the salad.”
Secret? What secret?
How she grinned.
“Sweat pea!” she exclaimed. “The chef chose greens that have the quality
and taste of peas.”
I took another taste, and sure enough it did. I wouldn’t have recognized it as otherwise,
simple untrained palate I had. From that
point on I vowed I would try to detect distinct tastes.
After this was a fillet of beef that was, without a doubt,
one of the best fillet’s I have ever tasted in my life. I ordered it medium rare and it was so
wonderfully, tender and juicy. I scooped up the sauce and the potatos like they
were liquid gold. The beef, like the
salad, was presented as a work of art.
My parents had fish, which was similarly sublime. There was a lemon jam (I’m still not sure if
that’s what it was) which was just slightly sweet and yet slightly tart. The woman explained that the chef strained it
dozens of times to remove the full bitterness of the lemon.
After this was the house specialty, which we had ordered
beforehand. This was an apple tart with
fresh carmel crème on the side. We’d
ordered two, thinking it would be enough.
I could have eaten gallons of the crème alone, and the tart was moist
and juicy. All the time we ate, the
owner and her husband would present the dishes, and she would chat and explain
about the dish. At the same time she
asked about us, about who we were and what brought us here.
We struck up such a decorum that the chef himself felt bad
that we’d only ordered two desserts, and so presented a chocolate mousse, free
of charge. It was such a splendid show
of hospitality. It was here I asked the obvious question: why the name “Le Bonne Excuse?” The answer we received explained more than I
would first realize.
The chef had worked in a busy, huge restaurant his whole
life, some 20 -25 years or more and had grown tired of it. He wanted to go out and have his own
restaurant and his wife dutifully supported him. The present locale was once a restaurant, but
it had folded because it was not on a busy street, and was so removed from the
eyes of the public.
Still, the man fell in love with the place, and he wanted
to make it his own. His wife and he sat
in the car just outside talking it over and she kept pointing out that with the
lack of traffic and everything else they would need a “good excuse” to get
people to come. It would have to be
food, it would have to be a quality service, it would have to be atmosphere.
It turns out, that’s just what they had, what they created,
but there’s more to the story. Their
business is almost all word of mouth, because strangely the other hotels in the
entire area never recommend them. Only
our hotel, the D’orsay, commonly recommends people to go to their
restaurant. Even so, the word has
gotten out and the place has been there two years and can be jam packed. Much of the traffic doesn’t come from
streets, but Trip Advisor (to which I have made a recommendation myself).
On the whole, this was to be a very different experience from a more traditional restaurant the next day (I’ll get into that later). Here, at Le Bonne Excuse, we were welcomed in as if we were family. It is a travesty that other hotels do not recommend this restaurant, but in a way perhaps that is a saving grace. This way it does not become so crowded that this wonderful pair cannot keep up. As it is, they are content with their lives and their service, and provide a wonderful excuse to not only visit, but linger in their business.
