Food Matters: Paris 2025

In January, Jill, her daughter, my son, and I spent four days in Paris after visiting Belgium. The food is a major draw, and this trip yielded some gems. But first, I need to pour one out for Le Village. In my last Paris restaurant update, I mentioned that it was one of the last true Montmartre bars, and I was disappointed to see that it closed its doors a few months before we arrived. It was an unpretentious spot full of locals, and it will be missed.

This time around, we visited only a couple of restaurants/bars I’ve been to before: No Entry (the speakeasy in the basement of Pink Mamma) and Babalou. Discovering No Entry is part of its charm, and knowing that we had to ignore the “No Entry” sign on the walk in freezer to enter the bar took away a little bit of the joy in the experience. Still, they offer delightful cocktails and the servers know their stuff.

I’ve eaten at Babalou, a cozy place around the corner from Sacre Coeur, since 2010 and the kitchen still turns out a satisfying pizza. We had a wonderful lunch there that could have only been better if the snotty California mom at the next table, who rebuffed Jill’s directions to the WC (“Don’t listen to an American,” she said to her daughter. “Ask someone who lives here.”), had chosen to eat somewhere else.

These are new to my list of recommendations:

Un Zèbre à Montmartre is newish and sits on Rue Lepic. It’s easy to miss (for me, anyway) as I walked past it twice before finding the door. The food is simple, inexpensive, and glorious. Jill says her duck with honey and grape sauce is the best thing she ate in Paris. I’m a fan of their steak tartare, which made me forget about the need to travel to the 14th and eat it at Le Severo. Have a cocktail while you wait for food, then pick one of their excellent wines by the glass.

Le Mansart in Pigalle is the place if you want to immerse yourself in a noisy crowd and share lots of tasty small plates and consume a few drinks. I have no complaints. The steak tartare, falafel, and peppers with pimento were three of my favorites.

Boullion in Pigalle has cracked the code for serving classic French dishes to a million people a night (okay, maybe fewer than a million) at McDonald’s prices (well, not quite). We went our first night in Paris and it was a great way to decompress from travel. French comfort food has a lot going for it, and the duck that Eli and I ate reminded me of why I love French cuisine so much.

Double is a twelve-seat restaurant on Rue Lamarck that serves onigiri through a tiny window during lunch, then offers a prix fixe eight course meal for dinner, with optional wine pairings. It’s a hot ticket in Paris, so reservations are needed. We booked the first seating, and sat at the counter facing the tiny kitchen where the chef and an assistant produced eight perfect courses and made it look effortless. The menu is French/Asian/Italian, and our meal included courses like a maki roll with radish and soybean, crab ravioli with black garlic, red pepper risotto with shrimp, pigeon breast with yellow beetroot, and a combination of chocolate and lemon creams with tajine. The entire experience was delightful.

Clove is my new favorite Montmartre coffee shop. Superb coffee, no wifi, and lots of dogs. Perfect.

The smell of butter from Pain Pain hits you a block away. The croissants, pain au chocolat, and pain au raisin are delightful. I can’t tell you about anything else there because we ordered the same pastries every visit and were never disappointed.

Patoche is a microbrewery in Montmartre where I enjoyed a flight of beers (pale ale, IPA, DIPA, blonde) before dinner one night. It has a nice vibe (families playing board games the night I was there), and the beers are as good as any local, Paris brews I’ve had before.

Le Butcher is an halal restaurant in the 9th arrondissement, and if you’re in that part of town and craving a burger, you cannot go wrong there. I can’t tell you what I ordered, but it all looked good and they make excellent pommes frites. I had my first encounter with a French milkshake. Think milk and additives (in my case, Nutella), no ice cream.

The house renovation continues–time for a new water main

We’ve made so much progress so quickly renovating our odd North Country bungalow. Until recently, we had our fingers crossed that the aging galvanized steel water main wouldn’t burst. The first time Jill’s dad saw the house, he looked at the cut off valve and said, “Do not touch that. Don’t even look at it.” It was long past its expiration date.

The original, ready-to-die-any-second water main and cut off valve.

Rather than roll the dice and hope it lasted through the winter — winter being the absolute worst time to deal with a broken water main — we had it replaced. The first challenge was cutting off water at the street, because the valve extension had corroded and wouldn’t turn. The guy from the city tasked with turning it off went away and returned a few minutes with a new extension.

Then the digging started.

That sandy-looking stuff? Cat litter. The previous owner and her housemates had disposed of years of cat litter in the front yard. I have a stack of zoning code violations that tell the story.

A steady stream of neighbors showed up to tell the team excavating the main exactly what it was, and what they should do with it. The supervisor was a paragon of patience, though he told me later that it was hard to hold his tongue.

A few hours later, we had this. Exciting, isn’t it?

A shiny, new copper water main.

Two sections of sidewalk were sacrificed, and three weeks later we did the city a solid and replaced it.

The finishing touch will be new grass, but that’s going to have to wait until Spring.

A long weekend in Albany and Vermont

After dressing up for the Breakthrough T1D Capital Region Gala, Jill and I spent a weekend wandering and relaxing in Albany and southern Vermont. I’d never seen the Empire State Plaza, so we started there with a walk, then got back in the car and drove up through Bennington and Ludlow to Mt. Ascutney, where we stayed a couple of nights. We’re all about the food, and we hit Zoey’s Deli in Manchester (5/5 would eat there again in a heartbeat), Blake Hill and Sugarbush Farm for dinner picnic ingredients, Simon Pearce to watch glass blowing (fascinating and worth the stop) and eat a fancy lunch (they do magical things with burrata–the rest of the food was okay), and the Windsor Diner (excellent for breakfast).

Three bonus shopping spots: Post. (I could empty my wallet there on pens and notebooks) and Little Istanbul Gifts (spices!) in White River Junction and The Yankee Bookshop (well-selected books and snooty Woodstock clientele make for serious entertainment).

National WW2 Museum in New Orleans

If you want to immerse yourself in World War 2 history, the National WW2 Museum in New Orleans should be on your list to visit. It comprises eight buildings that cover a wide range of themes — the European and Pacific theaters, the Holocaust, faith in times of war, aviation, decorated veterans, and relics that are undergoing restoration — and is associated with the Smithsonian Museum. I could have easily spent a couple of days there. The photos give just a glimpse of all I saw.

The National WW2 Museum is in the Arts district, an easy walk from the Central Business District, and on the Hop-On Hop-Off Bus line.

Eating in New Orleans: My favorites

Our trip to New Orleans this week was my first since the early ’90s. I don’t remember a lot about that visit, other than watching a man carry a goat up Bourbon Street at 2 AM. Sorry to disappoint, but that episode didn’t repeat itself during this trip.

There’s plenty to share about our time in New Orleans, and I’ll start with the food, which mostly ranged from wonderful to exquisite. There was also a bad restaurant (we nicknamed it The Cre-Hole), but that was an outlier.

These were my five favorite meals. Be forewarned that I’m not comparing apples to apples, and Jill’s list may be different from mine. This is a completely subjective accounting of the delight I experienced at a range of restaurants.

First, Luvi. It looks tiny, but appearances are deceiving. The interior is merely small, or in restaurant-speak, intimate. Jill started with a Pom Coco, and I had a Mr. Miyagi while we debated the menu. “Feed Me” or a la carte? While we thought about it, Jill praised her cocktail. I tasted it, and while mine was great, her’s was on a different plane. If it’s on the menu, try it.

We went with “Feed Me.” Do this.

We were treated to four off-menu fish courses. Each one was a surprise, and though we had our faves, every single course was delightful. They were, to the best of my memory:

  1. Halibut, yuzu vinegar pickled kiwi fruit, truffle oil, and roe. (Jill’s fave)
  2. Tilefish, totatoes and Asian pears.
  3. Two kinds of salmon, manchego, peaches, and smoked soy sauce. (Mine)
  4. Tuna, wasabi roe, watermelon, and feta.

We followed this with dessert: Small scoops of black sesame coconut, dragonfruit, and black magnolia tea ice cream. There was also some wine (a sauvignon blanc) but frankly, the food grabbed our attention in a way that made us forget about the wine.

If you’re visiting NOLA, go to Luvi. Seriously.

Turkey and the Wolf. Until we went to Luvi, this counter service sandwich shop in/near the Garden District served up the best meal of my visit. I’d been longing to try their Collard Greens Melt. It was everything I hoped for and dreamed about. I don’t like frozen margaritas, but their’s made my sandwich even better. Jill bought me their cookbook, which is full of cooking wisdom like “relax a bit” and f-bombs, and I’m going to make this sandwich. And every other sandwich they sell. Go, because you will not regret the time you’ll spend standing in line or searching for a table.

Besamé. I started with a Mole Verde, which is a cocktail that contains tomatillo. I had never had such a thing, and I won’t miss the chance to have one in the future. Wow. Dinner was Peruvian ceviche, arepas, and lamb lollipops smothered in a delicious sauce and roasted pumpkin seeds. Every bite was wonderful, and I wish that dinner could have gone on for hours, with the laughing server feeding us endless lamb lollipops. Put this one on your list.

Palace Café. Yes, we went for a more-or-less traditional creole meal. I had andouille crusted red snapper, and Jill had pecan crusted catfish. Both were excellent. The service was funny, attentive, and thoughtful. It’s everything a restaurant should be, and if I hadn’t eaten at Besamé and Luvi it would be far more memorable.

Dat Dog. Jill had a sausage with blue cheese and blackberry jam/sauce/something and it was not your typical hot dog. Her sister, a Chicago dog. I went for the duck sausage with creole mustard and grilled onions. The french fries were topped with crawfish etoufée. The beer, an IPA by Gnarly Barley. The only thing missing was the option to order a Michigan, but if there was a Dat Dog in Plattsburgh, it would be my go-to hot dog place. Sorry, Clare and Carl’s.