There are moments in all our lives that are just humbling "wow" moments. You know which ones I'm talking about, don't you? The ones like this one. The one where I am sitting with my dear friend Clyde and my Mom at Le Jules Verne restaurant, 125 meters (375 feet) up in the Eiffel Tower, thinking to myself, "I grew up poor in the South Bronx. When I was growing up, a dining treat was if Mom would take me to Howard Johnson's for fried clam strips and a banana split. And I loved it! And I would still love it except it's not the same any more. Not nearly as fresh and good as back in the day" I envisioned many things for myself, but sitting here, now, with two of the many people I love...nope, I didn't envision this moment. I may have envisioned myself being one of the tourists getting rained on whilst standing on the observation deck below us. We are seated at a table where we can watch the tourists "observe" Paris from the observation deck. We are warm, pampered and dry. I envisioned that I would be one of the people looking up from the observation deck and think to myself, "I wish I was dining there". I didn't envision that people would be looking up at me...I wonder what they are thinking. They should only know that what separates me from them is the good fortune I seem to have sometimes and the unparalleled genosity of a dear friend.
We arrive for our lunch reservation at 12:30p.m. by taxi (again, remind me why I bought the unlimited Metro card pass if we never use the Metro?!). It is pouring rain; not pretty, misty rain but here-comes-the-deluge kind of rain. There goes our view as we will be seeing our fair share of raindrops. Mother Nature hasn't stopped yanking our chains since Iceland!! Can we get a break, please? My black patent leather high-heeled shoes and demure, ladies-who-lunch dress is just not made for this weather. We run from the taxi to the entrance to Le Jules Verne and even that short sprint leaves us damp courtesy of the wind and rain.
We take the private elevator to the restaurant level and from that point on, we always have someone tending to us. Someone to take our coats, escort us to our table, explain the menu...and oh, even someone to clue me in as to how to enter the ladies washroom. It's very James Bond-like. No signage and well, I still don't know what button was pressed that opened the door to the washroom...and quite frankly, I don't remember how I got out because I don't remember finding a door handle. See, it's all very dimly lit and everything seems to be on sensors. I am convinced there was a closed-circuit camera watching me trying to find the door handle to leave the bathroom and when all the attending staff had a good giggle, they decided to open the door via remote control. Stop laughing. It's not funny.
Lunch is an event. There's something about fine dining and great service that makes my head spin. I am guilty of having read some of the reviews of this restaurant on some travel sites and not all of them are flattering. I genuinely feel bad for those diners with those experiences but other than the bathroom door mystery (which I just chalked up to being too chic to be practical) I had a great time. Was it as good as the fried clam strips and ice cream at Howard Johnson's when I was a kid? That's hard to say. I'd have to see what chef Alain Ducasse does with clams. Could I pronounce anything I ate? No. Did I enjoy it all immeasurably? Yes!
The torrential rain is making an effort to stop so we are actually getting the view we hoped for, in small doses. Between the time our menus are handed to us and the arrival of the "amuse bouche", we can see Sacre Coeur and Montmartre in the distance (prior to this we could only imagine what was beyond the clouds and fog). The "amuse bouche" is a little sampling of something compliments of the chef. The server announces its arrival (can the horns and trumpets be far behind?) in both French and English. Three enlarged shot glasses with small spoons. Mom said it's something along the lines of cream of mushroom soup; I swear I heard cocoa bean soup. I still don't know. But it was good...and amusing since I still don't know what it was.
I'm not going to bore you with the French names for everything we ate. You can always check Le Jules Verne's website for the menu listing. I guess you could also check Mom's side of the table because invariably whatever is being eaten lands on the tablecloth in small measure. No joke. She even took a photo of the table showing her side versus my side and Clyde's. CSI would have a field day on her side of the table. Our sides look like we hadn't even had lunch. (Mom, I say this with love. No need for a rebuttal :) In no particular order, there was duck liver with black fig jelly and toasted brioche, cauliflower mousse soup, snails with garlic butter and mushrooms that were standing up as if they were guarding the snails (oh, the presentation of everything was just too fabulous). Pan-sauteed turbot with veggies and white beans, veal with carmelized small onions that were filled with a mushroom stuffing (really...I have never seen stuffed baby onions before. Whoever has that job has the patience of a saint!), chicken with more veggies. Each plate is just downright fascinating in its attention to detail. Even the butter for our breads and brioche is shaped like the base of the Eiffel Tower and monogrammed with the restaurants signature JV. I know butter is butter is butter but somehow it tastes a bit better when it's sculpted :)
Oh, oh...I forgot to mention. When we were seated, in front of each of us is a charger plate. Okay, we're used to that. The plate that is never used but reminds us that soon there will be a plate of food in the charger's place. I think of the charger plate as the reservation for the real thing to come. And the charge plate at Le Jules Verne is of course, exclusively designed for their restaurant and is meant to abstractly represent the structure of the Eiffel Tower. Fine. Fine. That all makes sense to me. But what I have never seen before are charger utensils. That's right. The sleekest silver knives and forks I have ever seen...and they are never used. Again, just holding the places for the actual dining utensils. And it's a good thing the servers quickly take them away or they may have went the way of the Eurostar utensils (read blog below). Okay, Mom. Okay. I'm kidding...maybe...
There are more "amuse bouche" moments in the form of mango-infused marshmellows and some of the most decadent dark chocolate truffles I have ever allowed to melt in my mouth...oh, and something that is a cross between a creme brulee and a caramel flan...and little lemon tart cookies and oh, please I can't even remember what else. Plus we ordered dessert!! Figs with passion fruit ice cream and chocolate explosion and...dear God, can someone get me a wheelbarrow to cart me out of here?! Oh, and the cheese course. Between the main course and dessert, the server has the friendly audacity to ask, "Would you like to enjoy the cheese course?" I am beyond full already (plus I could see Clyde's dessert menu...his has the prices). I am trying to save some pennies/euros so I decline but he and Mom chime a resounding, "Sure" or whatever the equivalent is in French. Clyde would never resound "sure" even in English and since he can resound in French...
Voila. The cheese course. The cheese course should come with an instruction manual. Our server outlines how it is meant to be enjoyed. I am not kidding. It should come with a schematic drawing. The cheese to the far bottom left is meant to be eaten first along with an accompniament (i.e. apples) that can be found in a section directly above the particular piece of cheese. It's kind of like reading a book...let your eyes or in this case, mouth, wander from left to right. The cheese, at least the first two, are pretty good. The others are pretty...intense. This is not Kraft's Velveeta :) ...which I would argue isn't even real cheese but that's another story for another time.
So lets see, seemingly a million food courses (and remember there are corresponding wines for these courses) and a few cups of coffee and four hours later (when's the last time you had a four hour lunch?), the rain has stopped. The views are incomparable. Paris is ours to be enjoyed and savored. I think to myself, "I get it now. This is one beautiful city. I can see the Arc de Triumphe, the Seine with its busy boating activity, the museums, the gardens." The point is I can see Paris finally...and I like it. I really like it. And it tastes pretty darn good too.
Mom leaves the table to take 2,000 more photos of the 360 degree panorama that is Paris from our vantage point. I tell Clyde now would be a good time for he and I to settle the check before Mom comes back...because if she finds out how much this meal was...she'll try to give it back. I realize I just ate my car insurance payment and all of my utility bill payments and probably a portion of my 401K but who cares. It's a once-in-a-lifetime moment, right? Maybe twice if I get lucky....
...and here's what my friend Clyde tells me. I will never forget this...
"Estelle, I never want to hear again that you don't love Paris. Paris is my city and I wanted to show you how Paris should be experienced. So this is my treat. Besides your Mom is like a second Mom to me and well, you are...."
Lets just stop there before I get teary-eyed all over again. I know who I am.
A woman who now loves Paris and is blessed to have a best friend who showed me the beauty of his city and reminded me of the beauty of our friendship all in one moment.
...and Clyde, thank you.
We arrive for our lunch reservation at 12:30p.m. by taxi (again, remind me why I bought the unlimited Metro card pass if we never use the Metro?!). It is pouring rain; not pretty, misty rain but here-comes-the-deluge kind of rain. There goes our view as we will be seeing our fair share of raindrops. Mother Nature hasn't stopped yanking our chains since Iceland!! Can we get a break, please? My black patent leather high-heeled shoes and demure, ladies-who-lunch dress is just not made for this weather. We run from the taxi to the entrance to Le Jules Verne and even that short sprint leaves us damp courtesy of the wind and rain.
We take the private elevator to the restaurant level and from that point on, we always have someone tending to us. Someone to take our coats, escort us to our table, explain the menu...and oh, even someone to clue me in as to how to enter the ladies washroom. It's very James Bond-like. No signage and well, I still don't know what button was pressed that opened the door to the washroom...and quite frankly, I don't remember how I got out because I don't remember finding a door handle. See, it's all very dimly lit and everything seems to be on sensors. I am convinced there was a closed-circuit camera watching me trying to find the door handle to leave the bathroom and when all the attending staff had a good giggle, they decided to open the door via remote control. Stop laughing. It's not funny.
Lunch is an event. There's something about fine dining and great service that makes my head spin. I am guilty of having read some of the reviews of this restaurant on some travel sites and not all of them are flattering. I genuinely feel bad for those diners with those experiences but other than the bathroom door mystery (which I just chalked up to being too chic to be practical) I had a great time. Was it as good as the fried clam strips and ice cream at Howard Johnson's when I was a kid? That's hard to say. I'd have to see what chef Alain Ducasse does with clams. Could I pronounce anything I ate? No. Did I enjoy it all immeasurably? Yes!
The torrential rain is making an effort to stop so we are actually getting the view we hoped for, in small doses. Between the time our menus are handed to us and the arrival of the "amuse bouche", we can see Sacre Coeur and Montmartre in the distance (prior to this we could only imagine what was beyond the clouds and fog). The "amuse bouche" is a little sampling of something compliments of the chef. The server announces its arrival (can the horns and trumpets be far behind?) in both French and English. Three enlarged shot glasses with small spoons. Mom said it's something along the lines of cream of mushroom soup; I swear I heard cocoa bean soup. I still don't know. But it was good...and amusing since I still don't know what it was.
I'm not going to bore you with the French names for everything we ate. You can always check Le Jules Verne's website for the menu listing. I guess you could also check Mom's side of the table because invariably whatever is being eaten lands on the tablecloth in small measure. No joke. She even took a photo of the table showing her side versus my side and Clyde's. CSI would have a field day on her side of the table. Our sides look like we hadn't even had lunch. (Mom, I say this with love. No need for a rebuttal :) In no particular order, there was duck liver with black fig jelly and toasted brioche, cauliflower mousse soup, snails with garlic butter and mushrooms that were standing up as if they were guarding the snails (oh, the presentation of everything was just too fabulous). Pan-sauteed turbot with veggies and white beans, veal with carmelized small onions that were filled with a mushroom stuffing (really...I have never seen stuffed baby onions before. Whoever has that job has the patience of a saint!), chicken with more veggies. Each plate is just downright fascinating in its attention to detail. Even the butter for our breads and brioche is shaped like the base of the Eiffel Tower and monogrammed with the restaurants signature JV. I know butter is butter is butter but somehow it tastes a bit better when it's sculpted :)
Oh, oh...I forgot to mention. When we were seated, in front of each of us is a charger plate. Okay, we're used to that. The plate that is never used but reminds us that soon there will be a plate of food in the charger's place. I think of the charger plate as the reservation for the real thing to come. And the charge plate at Le Jules Verne is of course, exclusively designed for their restaurant and is meant to abstractly represent the structure of the Eiffel Tower. Fine. Fine. That all makes sense to me. But what I have never seen before are charger utensils. That's right. The sleekest silver knives and forks I have ever seen...and they are never used. Again, just holding the places for the actual dining utensils. And it's a good thing the servers quickly take them away or they may have went the way of the Eurostar utensils (read blog below). Okay, Mom. Okay. I'm kidding...maybe...
There are more "amuse bouche" moments in the form of mango-infused marshmellows and some of the most decadent dark chocolate truffles I have ever allowed to melt in my mouth...oh, and something that is a cross between a creme brulee and a caramel flan...and little lemon tart cookies and oh, please I can't even remember what else. Plus we ordered dessert!! Figs with passion fruit ice cream and chocolate explosion and...dear God, can someone get me a wheelbarrow to cart me out of here?! Oh, and the cheese course. Between the main course and dessert, the server has the friendly audacity to ask, "Would you like to enjoy the cheese course?" I am beyond full already (plus I could see Clyde's dessert menu...his has the prices). I am trying to save some pennies/euros so I decline but he and Mom chime a resounding, "Sure" or whatever the equivalent is in French. Clyde would never resound "sure" even in English and since he can resound in French...
Voila. The cheese course. The cheese course should come with an instruction manual. Our server outlines how it is meant to be enjoyed. I am not kidding. It should come with a schematic drawing. The cheese to the far bottom left is meant to be eaten first along with an accompniament (i.e. apples) that can be found in a section directly above the particular piece of cheese. It's kind of like reading a book...let your eyes or in this case, mouth, wander from left to right. The cheese, at least the first two, are pretty good. The others are pretty...intense. This is not Kraft's Velveeta :) ...which I would argue isn't even real cheese but that's another story for another time.
So lets see, seemingly a million food courses (and remember there are corresponding wines for these courses) and a few cups of coffee and four hours later (when's the last time you had a four hour lunch?), the rain has stopped. The views are incomparable. Paris is ours to be enjoyed and savored. I think to myself, "I get it now. This is one beautiful city. I can see the Arc de Triumphe, the Seine with its busy boating activity, the museums, the gardens." The point is I can see Paris finally...and I like it. I really like it. And it tastes pretty darn good too.
Mom leaves the table to take 2,000 more photos of the 360 degree panorama that is Paris from our vantage point. I tell Clyde now would be a good time for he and I to settle the check before Mom comes back...because if she finds out how much this meal was...she'll try to give it back. I realize I just ate my car insurance payment and all of my utility bill payments and probably a portion of my 401K but who cares. It's a once-in-a-lifetime moment, right? Maybe twice if I get lucky....
...and here's what my friend Clyde tells me. I will never forget this...
"Estelle, I never want to hear again that you don't love Paris. Paris is my city and I wanted to show you how Paris should be experienced. So this is my treat. Besides your Mom is like a second Mom to me and well, you are...."
Lets just stop there before I get teary-eyed all over again. I know who I am.
A woman who now loves Paris and is blessed to have a best friend who showed me the beauty of his city and reminded me of the beauty of our friendship all in one moment.
...and Clyde, thank you.
Thank you for your in depth report of such an unforgettable meal in such an unforgettable setting. How lucky you were this time around to have such a guide in Clyde! Your blog entry brought back memories of all the great meals that Solveig & I have shared with our friends in the aptly named City of Light. Paris is a magical place to be shared with friends and remembered forever. I'm glad it happened to you.
ReplyDeleteThank you too, Clyde. ;}
ReplyDeleteEstelle, I love Paris. I mean I REALLY LOVE PARIS!!!! And I am so glad you do too. Clyde sounds like a wonderful friend and I am so glad you had the opportunity to enjoy such a fabulous lunch! My daughter and I looked at the menu and said.......We can't, We can, No we can't! I wish we had. Pam
ReplyDeleteMy Dear Estelle, I have awarded you the Honest Scrap Blog Award! Check ,my blog for the details. Bisous! Pam
ReplyDeleteAh Estelle! I love this story! OHHHHH, I would love to be there right now eating all that food and enjoying Paris; eventhough, my thoughts of the Eiffel Tower are when I would go there to cry from a bad relationship I had in Paris in the 1980's.
ReplyDeleteThese stories need to be in a magazine!!!!