Bofinger's
Ann and Roberta made it into town and joined us for a lovely dinner at Brasserie Bofinger, one of those "check off" places. Last time we were in Paris we went after the opera, and it's a terrific place to have a late night meal. Last night was just about the company and the food. Ira ensured that we sat under the cupola, a wonderful stained glass creation that crowns the ceiling in the main part of the dining room. The maitre d' was going to show us upstairs (i.e., Siberia) when Ira gently corrected him and said, non, "la salle de la coupoule." The maitre d' recognized authority when he heard it and made it happen.

The food could have been worse and we still would have had fun. It took us about 30 minutes of animated conversation before we could even look at the menus. Our waitress was a pretty young black girl, and she quickly realized the dinner would be run on our terms. She brought us a wonderful bottle of Sancerre that got the dining part of the evening off to a rollicking start.

I'd been a bit hesitant to come here after such a big lunch, but we all shared food and ordered sanely. We had one of those big seafood platters (Le Prestige for those familiar with the place) and then shared a plate of white asparagus, which is in full cry right now. Bofinger's was better than Benoit's by the way.

The second bottle of wine came just as the choucroute platter came out. Stuffed with sauerkraut and about 5 pounds of sausage and bacon and beef, the plate that typically serves 1 was a better fit for three. (I had the souris d'agneau, which is the haunch of the lamb.) We all shared and tasted everything, including a delicious conversation about Paris.

Dessert was on a grander scale. Ann and Roberta shared a plate of profiteroles, but the kitchen went a bit crazy and still gave them huge portions. Ira had the chocolate mousse (his second of the day), and I had the creme brulee, which, as you can see from the picture, really bruled. We rolled out of there just before midnight, a three-hour meal of talk and taste. We poured the women into a taxi and took off for the twenty minute walk home to our apartment, a necessarily head-clearing move after all that wine.

Tonight, we go to a restaurant owned by a friend of a friend. It's our first really non-touristy place this trip. Stay tuned.