Restaurant Review: La Cuisine de Philippe, St. Germain, Paris
Paris is a city governed by fashion. On the streets of course, what you wear and how you wear it serves somewhat to denote your place in society, as it does in many of the worlds major cities, where the rich jostle with the proletariat and poor. I have a friend who lives not far from the city but who does not like to visit for fear of (as she puts it) “all those pointy-nosed French women in designer heels”. But it is in the food world where fashion holds sway most obviously: restaurants rise and fall according to the current fashion (or fad) of the day. Sometimes perfectly respectable restaurants find themselves suddenly struggling, whilst others, which have seemingly nothing extraordinary about them, find a queue outside their door (cf. Pizzeria Popolare in the 2nd).
For a foodie, this is a problematic state of affairs. One feels the need to be eating at the restaurants that everyone is talking about, but all the while one searches for something different: a restaurant true to itself, making food that it thinks is worthwhile, rather than catering for the foodie fashionistas.
On an unassuming side street, as the bustle of St Germain gives way to the quieter and more genteel area around the Senat and the Luxembourg Gardens, is a small restaurant called La Cuisine de Philippe (Phillipe’s Kitchen). It’s façade is painted a deep red but is otherwise plain, pinned to the window is a piece of paper, the menu, detailing the chef’s offering that day and announcing the pricing (€41 for three courses). Around the doorframe are stickers attesting to repeated appearances in the France’s venerable Michelin Guide. The front door of the restaurant opens onto a small but well appointed room, the walls painted in an earthy, neutral hue and adorned with posters and old-fashioned pictures. The restaurant has no website and take most of its reservations over the phone, which get noted down in a satisfyingly weighty looking tome on the small bar at the back of the room. When I went in to make my reservation, the tables were already laid—this is an establishment in which a starched white tablecloth is still essential.
Philippe, the proprietor of the restaurant, who still appears in the course of a sitting to wish the customers a good meal, changes the menu periodically to include whatever is in season, but his specialty is soufflés. It is rare and glutinous delight to order the same thing twice in a meal, my companion and I both chose soufflé to start and subsequently soufflé for dessert. Though the menu was short by modern standards, it was in no way beholden on us to do so: one could have also taken the house terrine, foie gras or soup to start and finished with such delights as creme brulée, but temptation won out.
The towering starters arrived, perfectly risen and piping hot from the oven, great silky masses of lobster bisque, crabmeat and tarragon folded through with beaten egg whites and béchamel. For a mains, my friend ordered veal kidneys in a rich red wine sauce and mashed potatoes, whilst I opted for the duckling roasted with honey and agrumes. I chose a wine from the list which, like the restaurant itself, was small but well appointed (don’t expect to find anything from outside France on this list). A very reasonably priced bottle of claret from a small producer in the Médoc suited us nicely. The duckling was exquisite, tender but flavourful, sweet but fresh; and served prettily but unpretentiously on a plain white plate. Meanwhile, the kidneys opposite me steamed away as rich smells wafted over.
The highlight of the meal was dessert, a soufflé to rival the best that I have ever eaten (including a memorable experience at the Ledbury in London where dessert alone cost as much as my entire meal at La Cuisine de Phillipe). I ordered a seasonal variation of rhubarb and red fruit coulis, whilst my companion opted for the classic Grand Marnier (which the waiter confirmed was the best choice). They arrived perfectly formed in their delicately fluted porcelain moulds. The waiter duly proceeded to pierce the orange soufflé and pour over the alcohol with a tantalising hiss. “Excusez-moi, vous avez oublié votre bouteille!” (“Excuse me, you’ve left your bottle behind”) I called after her, “Non monsieur, vous voudrez peut-être plus!” (“No sir, you might be wanting more!”) came the reply…
The important questions:
What kind of food: this is France as it once was, not as it is today. Expect classic recipes — and soufflé!
How much will it cost me: the formule is €41 for three courses, wines start at around €30 and go up to €100.
Do I need a reservation: yes probably. They take reservations in two slots: 7:30 or 9pm.
Who to go with: this place isn't for everyone and I wouldn't take children. But for anyone who appreciates food, and France, it's heaven.
What should I wear: unusually for Paris, whatever you like. In here no-one will mind.
Where is it: on the Rue Servandoni, right opposite the Senat and Luxembourg Gardens.
Verdict:
Food 5/5
Service 5/5
Atmosphere 5/5
Value for money 5/5
Likelihood of having a good time 5/5
Overall: *****