Paris review: Chez Géraud

[Moshulu]

The northern part of the sixteenth arrondissement is the cold, moneyed heart of Paris. The apartment buildings, with their beautifully carved stone facades, are the hiding places of France’s invisible but still-powerful aristocrats, its captains of industry, its diplomats, Arab princelings. By day, the men are chauffeured out to multiply their fortunes, while their wives crowd the cafés of the Trocadero and the Chausée de la Muette, challenging passers-by with their bold stares, their garish gold jewellery, their sun-wrinkled bosoms, their facelifts, and their monstrous fur coats. By night, the empty streets are spooky, and it is only the blue flickering in the windows that gives the inhabitants away: they (or, at any rate, their servants) are mere mortals – addicted, as is everyone else, to France’s cretinous televised entertainment. There is really no reason for an outsider to venture into this part of town, except to visit the Marmottan museum, to admire the art deco buildings along rue La Fontaine, or just to come and observe the locals, the way one would make a special trip to the zoo to see a particularly primitive type of crocodile or a three-headed snake.

One would think that, in this bastion of wealth and tradition, the food would be of the very best. But one would be wrong. In reality, not one person in twenty knows or cares much about he/she eats or drinks. As a result, the same proportion of restaurants are of even passing interest to chowhounds (although cause and effect are difficult to disentangle in this matter). But if nineteen out of twenty are awful, then there must be one that is good, and here is a one:

Chez Géraud
31 rue Vital
Tel. [phone]
Closed Saturday, Sunday

Even before going in, there are signs that interesting things are about to happen, for the outside walls are decorated with lovely ceramic panels from the renowned house of Jacques Peiffer in Longwy. (Longwy, famous for its faience, is well worth visiting. It’s near Verdun, even more famous and worth visiting, etc.). Closer scrutiny reveals that each panel is inscribed with the name of one of the better types of Beaujolais wine (Morgon, Fleurie, Saint-amour, etc.) This posses a problem for this reviewer, who has no use for gamay wines (except for Beaujolais Nouveau, which is good for unblocking clogged drains).

There are more such decorations in the handsome dining room, which is permeated with bourgeois comfort and respectability. The tables are well-spaced, and there are smaller side-tables that can be rolled up to hold the wine, mineral water, salt and pepper mills, etc. The diners are mostly long-time customers and friends of the “patron”, M. Géraud Rongier. Jackets and ties on the men, dresses on the ladies.

M. Rongier is a wonderful older man who responds with warmth and enthusiasm to expressions of interest in the food, and will even share the secrets of the kitchen. This is not too surprising, since the emphasis here is on perfect ingredients, tradition, and flawless execution, rather than novelty or imagination. Thus, the menu features such entrées as foie gras, salade de langoustines or St. Jacques, game terrine. Memorable main dishes include a simply roasted Bresse chicken, calf’s liver, rabbit with whole garlic cloves (the rabbit is a rare free-range animal, and the sauce is enlivened with homemade wine vinegar), cod, salmon, monkfish. In winter, there is plenty of game (chevreuil, hare, boar). The basic paradigm is: roasted meat/fish, sauce, vegetable – and it works to perfection. But all this enumeration just sets the context for the main event: ris de veau (sweetbreads, thymus gland). This is not an item that I ever order lightly anywhere, because when it’s bad, it’s really bad. Géraud's is just perfect: not too thick, nicely seized in the pan, never dried out or mushy (although I must admit I’ve had better in a place called Restaurant Eve in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia).

Desserts are excellent. They make a fantastic nougat glacé (in most Paris restaurants, it’s industrially produced) and a lovely poached pear that is baked in almond paste and drizzled with chocolate sauce.

Not surprisingly, the wine list is dominated by the Beaujolais region, but one can easily head a bit north into the lower part of Burgundy, where one finds such reliable and affordable pinot noirs as Givry and Mercurey. These do not need ageing. There is a very fine house white from Macon (which many people are afraid to order because they don’t know how to pronounce it. The c is as in “cat” and the on as in “bonjour”. There.)

Service is flawless. A couple of the waiters, I am told, speak restaurant English.

Dining at Chez Geraud is a pleasure for all of the senses, and for the mind and conscience as well. The pocketbook fairs a bit less well: dinner for two can easily total 150 euros, but the price/quality ratio is fully satisfactory. There is a thirty euro 3-course menu with several choices (I have never tried it: in a really top-notch restaurant, my advice is always to go with the “carte”).

Eating done, what a pleasure it is to sit back comfortably, cradling a last glass of Jurancon (not too sweet, slightly bitter, slightly resinous), thinking about how good life is, and how silly people are. For example (and no offence!) why is it that The Chowhound Team continues to conflate “chow” with “food”, and “eating” with “dining”? Or why do so many Paris-bound chowhounds laboriously compile and post lists of restaurants, hoping to stuff themselves into a stupor throughout every moment that they are here? It’s just like being one of those manic tourists who rush through the Louvre making sure that nothing escapes them (Michelangelo? check!, Rubens? check!, Leonardo?, check!). It makes no sense. A gastronomic romp in Paris should be a quietly composed, elegant sonata, with a beginning, a middle and an end. Or maybe a tasteful country bouquet with just the right combination of colors, textures and smells. It should consist of a few choice selections from a palette that includes, among others, a neighborhood bistrot, a noisy brasserie, a simple fish place, a temple of “haute bourgeoisie” cuisine, a creperie, and (why not?) one of those phantasmagorical Senderens/Ducasse/Robuchon affairs. Each should be savoured for what it is, not checked off some list on the way to the next Michelin-rated clone. A quiet dinner at Chez Geraud is like lingering for an hour in the Louvre’s Palissy room, grateful that someone once made such extraordinary efforts on one’s own behalf. And thankful that a few good restaurants still survive in Paris, even in the sixteenth arrondissement’s frigid, stony heart.

[fai jay (fai jackson)]

What a wonderful writing. I thoroughly enjoyed your review and social comments. It seems Madame Defarge did not knit enough names into her list. Maybe, in the next revolution.

You have given me a reason to go back to the 16th, not my favourite arrondisment. I have only been there twice, once to the Marmottan and once to Robuchon. I will return the next time I am in Paris to eat at this estimable establishment. Thanks.

[JEH]

Great review-and how lucky you are to live in the 7th.- where at least you get to see a differnt type of crowd at the counter of Petrossian

[kate]

Thank you for not only suggesting Chez Geraud earlier, but for also reviewing it. As always, very entertaining. I look forward to dining there in a few weeks. I presume they are only open for dinner? Should I make reservations right away? As for the citizens of the 16e, pitty the poor civil servants whose government transfers them to Paris and houses them in such a neighbourhood. (That is to say that not all inhabitants are of the wealthy but ignorant classes!). I agreed to stay with friends in the 16e rather than at my favourite hotel; should I be regretting this? Perhaps the Marmottan will make it worthwhile.
And as for your observation about hounds eating their way through Paris, thank you for reminding me that each moment is to be savoured and not scheduled. I personally found the "lists" a little intimidating!

A la prochaine...

[Moshulu]

They are open for lunch and dinner every weekday. I would reserve dinner a day or two ahead, lunch on the day itself.

Don't worry too much about the 16th. Even near rue Vital, there is the "gourmet ghetto" on rue de la Tour, then there is rue de Passy with its covered market...

[Busk]

LMAO! Stellar review and accompanying observations. Last time I was home, we hit a three star, had a few sandwichs grecs and everything in between.

[Maurice Naughton]

It is always a pleasure to read one of Moshulu's long reviews. The copious detail and the social, historical, and geographical notes, presented with such grace and elegance, are a delight.

I sometimes wish I could go to all the restaurants he recommends. I will continue to enjoy his hundred buck dinners, though vicariously.

And I have often wondered, as he does, "[W}hy do so many Paris-bound chowhounds laboriously compile and post lists of restaurants, hoping to stuff themselves into a stupor throughout every moment that they are here?" I think it's worth repeating his description of a true diner's short visit to Paris: "A gastronomic romp in Paris should be a quietly composed, elegant sonata, with a beginning, a middle and an end. Or maybe a tasteful country bouquet with just the right combination of colors, textures and smells. It should consist of a few choice selections from a palette that includes, among others, a neighborhood bistrot, a noisy brasserie, a simple fish place, a temple of “haute bourgeoisie” cuisine, a creperie, and (why not?) one of those phantasmagorical Senderens/Ducasse/Robuchon affairs."

Aside from the last recommendation (the simple answer to his "Why not?" is clear to me if to no one else), this seems to be a perfect map for an very rewarding journey. (I do wish that he'd sometimes try one of those thirty Euro prix fixe menus, though.)

[Willie & Joe]

It's just that us corn fed bumpkins from the great culinary fly over zone that is the US of A are on a mighty tight schedule when we are a visitin 6 Yourapeen countries in only 8 days (daze?), so we gotta treat Paree with the same approach Gen. George S. Patton took when he went a rollin along in his tanks, right across Francee and on to the Rhine, (damn the truffles and full stomachs ahead...man the prilosec).

Yeehaw!

[Maurice Naughton]

Willie and Joe?

Jeez, you must be older'n'me!

Let me counsel you, my brethern. Think about coming to Paris for pleasure, not to compile accomplishments. You can find rich and happy fulfillment even if you don't get to the top of the Eiffel Tower, don't see the Mona Lisa (which was disappointing even in 1962), and don't stuff yourself with Gagnaire's tasting menu.

Just plan to return some day.

[Willie & Joe]

After losing, then finally winning the Battle of the Bulge, (in all it's many appropriate connotations here) I made a vow that "once around the "Continent" was more than enuf", (but thanks for the invite).

[rahadlakoum]

Moshulu: You are the not to be missed poster on this site.
I often wondered if you were from the Bronx.

[Moshulu]

I've never knowingly been there. But my "nom de guerre" - Moshulu - is the old Indian name for the creek that ran through the Bronx before white men came.

Thank you for the kind words.

[rahadlakoum]

I suspected the Bronx came in somehow. Rahadlakoum is "the kind of confection to drive a man out his Mesopotamian mind" (lyric from "Kismet")

[zuriga]

I thought you were the parkway. :-)

Former Riverdale resident in the 60's.

[Gypsy Jan]

Poetry

and thank you for the effort put forth in describing not just the food, but the reason for it.

[Steve P]

What a completely brilliant review. Truly excellent. And I mean to go there asap !