But perhaps there’s another reason for my tardy arrival at the door of chef William Ledeuil: his reviews were, and still are, very mixed. More than perhaps any other restaurant in Paris, ZKG divides its diners into fans and full-on haters. After two recent visits, once for lunch and once for the dinner degustation, I find myself (surprised to be) counted among the fans.

> Read the rest of this review at The Girls’ Guide to Paris

> Read other trusted reviews of Ze Kitchen Galerie at Paris by Mouth

Today’s challenge as part of the Edible Advent Calendar:

Can you name this treat?

Leave your answer (product/location) in the comments section below. The reader who has accumulated the most victories by December 24 will receive an edible Christmas present from me. I’ll keep your guesses hidden until the answer is revealed tomorrow on Budget Travel, then I’ll publish the comments and name the winner for this challenge.

Last night marked my fourth visit to l’Avant Comptoir in just over a week. This new wine bar is nowhere near my apartment, so why am I returning again and again?

It’s the ham.

To be precise, it’s the deep-fried ham croquettes. Made with jambon Ibaïona d’Eric Ospital, these little nuggets are like eating, as the Frenchman next to me observed, “une caresse.” Priced at only 3 euros for a stack of three, they represent the cheapest love for sale in the French capital.

Those who prefer their ham without breading will be delighted by the legs swinging from the ceiling. The salty jambon Corse mingles with its Basque and Bigorre cousins above a stash of spicy chorizo and Andouille béarnaise. Order up a planche and then help yourself to the freshly baked bread, Bordier butter and cornichons that are lined up on the counter.

Speaking of the counter, I should mention that this place is only a bar with standing room for about 12 people. You’ll start as strangers, but hours of pressing close and tasting one another’s ham will likely turn you into friends. Last night, for example, our countermates invited us to their apartment next door to finish the evening with a 1963 Armagnac. It’s that kind of place.

Beyond the pork (and the duck neck, and the grilled scallop, sigh…) offerings, vegetarians have plenty to love at l’Avant Comptoir. There’s a lovely Breton artichoke served whole for dipping into silky olive oil, and the grilled cèpe (porcini mushroom) is a minor miracle.
Their wine list is short with plenty of inexpensive treats. I like to begin with the bubbly Mauzac Nature and continue on to the Côtes de Gascogne (2 euros a glass!). And I always make my way over to the magnum of Morgon at some point—it’s just perfect with the ham. Adding to the appeal, l’Avant Comptoir is open every day, with service continu and a takeout window selling sandwiches, waffles and crêpes. I may have to relocate to the 6th . . .

To read more about this new crush and the man behind it (Yves Camdeborde), check out these posts from Dorie Greenspan and Serve It Forth.

In a nutshell: Hit l’Avant Comptoir for a snacky apèro, or camp out at the counter and make a night of it (even on Sunday) by sharing rounds of tapas with friends and strangers.

L’Avant Comptoir
9, Carrefour de l’Odéon, in the 6th Arrondissement.
No reservations. Open every day.

If you like the sound of l’Avant Comptoir but want to stay on the right bank:
Le Garde Robe
41, rue l’Arbre Sec, in the 1st, near Métro Louvre-Rivoli.
01 49 26 90 60.

> Reprinted with permission from the Girls’ Guide to Paris

> Read other trusted reviews on L’Avant Comptoir at Paris by Mouth

Opening night at KGB

Have you ever wondered why some restaurant openings are “events” while others are simply overlooked? The recent opening of Ze Kitchen Galerie Bis provides some clues about media coverage and what it takes to draw the hounds.

#1: Give us a name we can play with. No, I don’t mean this restaurant’s full name, which is just a longer version of the unfortunate original (bis means “second” or “again”) – I mean the abbreviated KGB. So much spy-themed headline potential! So much room for clever word play! See also Spring, Cul de Poule, and Mama Shelter.

#2: Give us the backstory. Second (or third) restaurants from known chefs have a built-in backstory. Any review of KGB will include a retelling of the mothership Ze Kitchen Galerie and its captain William Ledeuil. Instant filler, increased word count, easy story.

It's weird! It's new!

#3: Give us something new. The restaurant of my heart is not the restaurant of my pen. I may crave a perfect roast chicken, but really, is there anything new to say? By contrast, the Zors-d’oeuvres at KGB may be kooky and ill-conceived, but their presence on the menu gives me something to write about.

#4: Timing is everything. KGB opened during the rentrée when readers are shaking off the summer slumber and are ready for something new. Writers are back at work and hungry for material, and these “new/best openings of the rentrée” stories are easy to pull off. And finally…

#5: If Frank goes, we all go. Any mention by François Simon, the Figaro critic who always gets there first, ensures that everyone else will follow. Sometimes Le Fooding is first on the scene, but the pack principle remains. Nobody wants their editor to think they’re out of the loop.

For illustration and your reading pleasure, here are the three first weeks of KGB coverage:

• KGB: les premières photos ! François Simon, Simon Says (09/01)
• KGB (Kitchen Galerie Bis) Le Fooding (09/02)
• Kitchen Galerie Bis in the 6th: Two steps forward, one back John Talbott (09/04)
• Back in Ze Kitchen Again Paris Update (09/09)
• KGB (Kitchen Galerie Bis): FBI (fausse bonne idée)? Chrisoscope (09/15)
• Paris 6e: KGB L’Express (09/17)
• KGB : L’adresse de la rentrée L’Express Blog (09/17)
• KBG, a terrific modern bistro on the Left Bank Alex Lobrano (09/20)

I was out for a run the other night when I saw a steady stream of pizza boxes coming at me. No, I wasn’t dehydrated… these were Domino’s pizza boxes from a new franchise on my street. So many of my neighbors were carrying them that I assumed they must be giving them away. I made a detour to investigate – purely out of curiosity, you understand – and was shocked to discover that people were actually paying for this crap. It was cheap – €7.50 for any size pizza – and it was working.

The following evening, on my way to the subway, I noticed that Speed Rabbit pizza, a franchise whose name never fails to make me giggle, had upped its own game. A conspicuous yellow sign promised any size pizza for €6.50 – a full euro cheaper than their rival. But the bunny remained empty while crowds were forming at Domino’s. It was easy to see why: free samples. They were giving away hot wings on my sidewalk… in Paris.

I accepted a sample before diving down into the subway. It was a sad thing have in my mouth. Crossing town on the Métro, I prayed to nobody in particular (perhaps the ghost of Brillat-Savarin) to please save Paris from this scourge of tasteless convenience food. I then emerged to join a friend for dinner at a new restaurant being advertised as affordable. My bill was €65 with wine.  With the current exchange rate, that was $93… nearly a Benjamin.

I can hardly applaud the success of fast food in Paris. On the other hand, there are so few rave-worthy things to eat for less than €20 in this town. There’s precious little ground between gastronomy and gross… between the Benjamin ($$$) and the bunny.