Paris can be tricky for food adventures because of the need to make reservations at most really good restaurants (keeping in mind "restaurant" does not include wine bars (many of which are fantastic eating options) or the omnipresent cafe).
If you are serious about your food experiences in Paris, and you have been studying the blogs because of this interest, you need to just get over it and deal with the fact you have to make a reservation and plan your day accordingly. Or just take your chances. (As Wendy Lyn of the Paris Kitchen reports, some places are so difficult to get into they are not even answering the phone anymore to take your reservation---we're talking like 300 calls a day.)
[One reader of a certain blog complained on line about this practice in Paris. She complained about how can she possibly know what she will be doing and when on a certain day to make a reservation in advance. Another reader responded: "When in Rome...when in Paris..." Well said.]
Take this reservation issue, and combine it with many cool places being closed on Sundays and/or Mondays in Paris, and you need to have a Venn diagram drawn up to figure out what to do and where to go and how to get a decent meal.
Paris by Mouth, my go-to guide for where to eat in Paris depending on where I am on a particular day (it includes a nifty list of their favorites in each arrondissement), is indispensable if it is Sunday or Monday. I look for where I am, or want to be, and check out what my limited range of choices is for that day.
And so it was on Monday, June 17, I found myself late, again, getting out of the apartment. Emails took some time; the coffee ritual took some time; shopping down the street took some time. Thus, I was still there in my eclectic hood that is the 11eme at the lunch hour. The super hip elite spots of the 11eme were out of the question because of the day and the reservation thing (Bistrot Paul Bert, le 6 Paul Bert, Septime).
As I consider Le Verre Volé, over near Republique/Canal St. Martin, I realize I did not care to walk over there, and I recall they might require a reservation (that darn reservation thing again), even though they are "just" a (great) wine bar.
I notice a never-before-read-about place on the Paris by Mouth list for the 11eme: CheZaline. Sandwich place, unique, casual, the write-up reads: but what sold me was that (1) it was owned by a woman who was previously at the well-loved Le Verre Volé and (ii) it was about 45 seconds from where I was sitting in my apartment. Done.
When I arrive, nobody is there pretty much. Noon is rather early for the French lunch schedule.
This is no ordinary sandwich place I notice straight away.
The case is full of abundantly fresh items -- evident from the fresh herbs overflowing out of practically every item in the case. There are two very young, darling, quick-moving, efficient women running the show in this tiny place. I am transfixed by the sandwich one of the women is making. She makes a second one. Hoping I can frame my question without drooling, because I was starting to salivate just looking at the sandwich prep, I ask her which sandwich it is that she is making. She tells me, and I say when she has a moment, that is exactly what I would have as well. It is escalope de veau - or breaded crispy veal scallopini - but this translation does not come close to describing how mesmerizing this sandwich is: it just looked pretty. Exemplary bread, fresh green lettuce and herb salad....
Did I mention the Paris by Mouth guide also touts the place for its simple, yet lovely and small selection of natural wines. Another plus. And the New York Times reported on this little sandwich place's opening in glowing terms, as many other French foodie writers have as well, confirming just how lucky I feel to be living right around the corner from this place. I love how the Paris food resource, Le Fooding, reports as a "plus" for this place the fact it is open on Mondays. The Monday thing is an issue for Parisians as well.
Things I love about this place immediately: sit at the counter inside, serve-yourself water from a pitcher that looks like an awesome vintage Saturday morning garage sale find, and a stack of clean shiny glasses for the water.
But this sandwich. One Paris write-up in Le Figaro of the place and what Delphine Zampetti, its owner, has done within the tiny confines of what used to be a small butcher shop, calls her sandwiches: "des sandwichs d’une nouvelle génération." A whole new generation of sandwiches/sandwiches for a new generation. Indeed.
Bread is the ideal, for me, of a great baguette: crusty, chewy, richly colored baguette tradition on the outside, super crispy, yet thin crust. The insides are perfect for absorbing the garlic and olive oil stuffs that are part of the mix of what makes this sandwich great.
The meat is an escalope de veau, as mentioned, but the secret "sauce" here is a mystery mix of tabbouleh, fresh herbs, garlic (lots), and finely, finely chopped hard-boiled egg.
I am not alone in my praise of this sandwich. In this blog by Rachel Khoo, she says this is the best sandwich she has had in a long time in Paris.
As I sit at my prime seat at the counter (there are only 4 bar stools - get there early at an uncool hour as I did to get 1 of them), I watch the line form out the door around the outdoor tables. Obviously the place is a huge hit.
Next time you are annoyed in Paris by the Sunday/Monday/reservation dilemma, consider it a challenge to think more creatively about where to eat.
You may end up having the best sandwich you have ever had.
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