Posts tagged 75009
L’Office
Feb 12th
3, rue Richer, 75009. 01 47 70 67 31. Open for lunch Thurs–Fri, and for dinner Tues–Sat. Closed Sun and Mon. The area around Grands Boulevards has suddenly (and surprisingly) become cool. This major thoroughfare, not far from two landmark department stores, used to be nothing but chains. In recent years, however, a handful of hype restaurants has put this neighborhood back on the foodie map. Among these, Racines and Passage 53, tucked inside the Passage des Panoramas, are the most well known. But another relative newcomer—named after a place that I try to avoid—has begun to establish a following. I More >
Table 28
Nov 9th
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the opening of Table 28 before I had actually been. That was the backstory. This is the rotisstory.
Sunday night I stepped in out of the rain and said hello to my dinner. “Robert,” having just descended from the spit, was resting quietly on the counter. The suckling pig would soon be joined on the table by a roasted Coucou de Rennes. But at this early hour, before the others arrived, there was time to sip my wine and watch Marie-Aude sharpen her knives.
Rolling with the homies
Jun 5th
As promised, Daniel Rose hosted an indoor picnic de luxe last Saturday at Spring restaurant in the 9th. On the menu: lobster rolls, duck-fat french fries (a nod to Hot Doug?) and some very cold champagne.
We arrive late (quelle surprise) after a noisy afternoon at the Villette Sonique music festival. Walking in around 9pm, we’re met with fallen face and the words “we just sold the last sandwich.” There is a table, though, so we sit for wine and to plan our next move.
Daniel Rose and the return of Spring
May 27th
A few months ago, I interviewed Daniel Rose for United’s Hemispheres magazine. During the two hours we spent together, his phone rang about 47 times. It wasn’t a good thing, he explained, because those callers wanted… a reservation. Rather than pick up and tell the would-be suiters that Spring was booked four months in advance, he mostly ignored the phone.
When he did answer, I could tell from his face that there a lot of begging going on. “I’m sorry (Ambassador… Mr. Editor… Mom) but there’s just nothing I can do…” “That phone,” he later told me, “is the enemy of joy.”
Shortly More >

