If You Are Familiar With The Texas Term "Knock Off Its Horns, Wipe Its Ass And Chunk It On The Plate", You Will Love Steak In Paris

Take a look at the picture above. If you can't imagine your steak any other way, you will be in heaven in Paris. Here most restaurants assume you would want your steak 'Saignant' which is the correct way, rare. Most of the time since this is the correct way they don't even ask. You can get it cooked more but you will get that 'save me from the uneducated rabble' look from your waiter. Don't be offended. There are some French that don't like their steak rare either. 

Bleu

I can't lie to you. Sally and I as well as most of our family take our steak in the Texas fashion. The French call this 'Bleu". It's a little less cooked than 'Saignant'. Yes, I know that is disgusting to some of you so I'm not going to tell you that we like 'Beef Tartare' and 'Beef Carpaccio' which have even less cooking. Yes, they are raw. Hey, nobody gets upset about eating raw vegetables.

                        

                                      Carpaccio                                                   Tartare

I fell into my addiction for Paris late in life after wasting my "ill-spent youth" and middle age in America and the beach areas of the Caribbean enamored with sun, beaches, skiing, mountains, food, wine, drugs, sex and rock and roll. I wish I had been smart enough to get to Europe earlier in my life but that was not to be. Instead I traveled to American outposts of food and wine like San Francisco, Chicago, New York, New Orleans and many others in search of new and old ideas on food, wine and the aforementioned drugs, sex and rock and roll.

After having read Hemingway's "Moveable Feast"  and "The Sun Also Rises" in college, I fell in love with the Paris I created in my mind. The problem was I had attached that Paris to a young lady I had fallen in love with at the same time. When we broke up I shoved her and Paris out of my mind and didn't seriously think about Paris until I went back to get her twenty years later. When we finally went there together, I realized the Paris I had created in my mind paled in comparison to the real thing.

          "...do you have any more urges?”

          “Yes, I want to go to Paris.”

          “Damn, you’ve been reading Hemingway again. Haven’t you?”

          “A Moveable Feast.”

          “Aren’t you afraid you will fall in love with Paris?”

          “No. My greatest fear is Paris will fall in love with me and won’t ever let               me leave.”

          “Then you should go.”... Warm Against The Cold 

During our preparations for that first trip we happened upon Anthony Bourdain's very first episode of "No Reservations" which of course was Paris. In that first show he went to Chez Robert et Louise, so we decided to check it out. We wanted to see if Tony knew what he was talking about. Click here for the clip on Chez Robert et Louise. We have since become avid fans of his show including the 100th episode which was a trip back to Paris. It was at Chez Robert et Louise that we first encountered the French doctrine of serving all steak underdone.   

 

Chez Robert et Louise

When we placed our order for the Cote de Boeuf pour 2, we were not asked how we wanted it cooked. When it came out "Saignant" we were in heaven. Cote de Boeuf is a standing rib roast that's cut between the rib bones through the meat to produce a bone-in 2 to 3 inch steak. Yes, that makes it about 2 to 3 pounds too. Here, they swab the thing with melted butter and throw it on a huge slab of cast iron over a wood fire in an open hearth. The potatoes cooked in goose fat were a big plus as well. This dish was magnificent and is among many things we love about Chez Robert et Louise.



Cote de Boeuf pour 2 at Chez Robert et Louise

I know for some of you this is a "heart attack on a plate" (or board as it was) and eating meat this rare is just savage. Not everyone feels that way. Certainly not the majority of the French (the most civilized people in the world according to many) and certainly not Sally or me. You can count in your group the German couple sitting next to us that evening. They too ordered the Cote de Boeuf pour 2. When it was served I thought the fraulein was going to have a heart attack of her own after looking at the rare sliced steak on that wooden platter. Without even taking a bite she demanded the steak be taken back and cooked "bien cuit" (well done) in that less than courteous manner some Germans have. If everything is so perfect back home in Germany, why do these people bother to travel. Oh, that's right it's not! This reminds me of some New Yorkers who come to Florida and complain about how everything is so much better at home. They forget to mention that, if they were there, they would be freezing their asses off as they dig their sidewalks out of 3 feet of snow. Okay, okay I'm going to stop as I'm getting to that unhappy place. The Germans got their steak cooked a little bit more but not to the "bien cuit" they were demanding in their less than perfect French. I finally found some one who speaks worse French than I do. My meal and evening were perfect.

The Iron Gate House

Having been in the restaurant business for a number of years this was not my first encounter with some one objecting to rare meat. One particular incident sticks in my mind. My first wife and I had just opened our first restaurant, The Iron Gate House in Virginia Beach. I was the cook and she took care of the front of the house. We had a prix fixe menu with a choice of 3 or 4 appetizers, soup, salad, a choice of 4 or 5 entrees and choice of 3 to 4 desserts for a fixed price. We were very small (50 seats) and had two seatings, one at 6:00 to 6:30 and a later seating at 8:00 to 8:30. We allowed 2 hours between the seatings because it was a 5-course menu. I know, I know by European standards that's a rush job but we were in the United States and people eat quicker. (Especially if they start at 6:00)



This was a Saturday night and we had success at getting most of the early seating entrees served by 7:30. We had a party that presented a problem early on. One member of the party had requested his Steak Diane (Yes, this was back in the day. It'll be back! Everything old is new again.) well done. Back then I was young, arrogant and a bit stubborn. (Sally insists I'm the same today except for the young part. I don't know what she is talking about but back then I definitely was.) I refused to cook our beef past medium rare as I thought to do so detracted from the true flavor and quality of the meat. I know, I know, I'm in the hospitality business so I should be hospitable and serve the steak the way the customer wants. I was young and arrogant. I thought I was bulletproof. Life had not yet taught me that I'm not.

Dining Room The Iron Gate House

I reminded the server, Kirk, that we didn't serve beef well done and tell the gentleman if he wanted something well done we had Veal Piccata or Roast Duckling. Kirk came back and said the man wanted beef and he would take it medium rare. We served the appetizer, soup and salad courses and then started on the entrees. That party's entrees were the last out the door for that seating. A minute later Kirk was back with the Steak Diane and said the man wanted it cooked more. It had been sliced to expose a perfect medium rare but not a single bite had been taken. I reminded Kirk that the man said he would take it medium rare and I showed him it was a perfect medium rare. "Yes but the guy wants it cooked so there is no blood." I looked at the clock on the wall and saw I had some time to play. (Arrogant? I think so) I told Kirk to send the gentleman back and he could cook his steak more but that I wouldn't.

I set a skillet on a burner and added some drawn butter to heat up. Kirk in his descriptions of this party failed to mention the size of this gentleman. He had to dip his head and turn sideways to get in the kitchen door and this was a standard 36" wide door. This gentleman was a refrigerator with a head! He was huge! Nonetheless I shook his hand and introduced myself. I explained to him that I searched out the best beef possible and paid top dollar. My only criteria was that it be the best and I couldn't in clear conscience serve this tenderloin past medium rare. However I had no problem if he wanted to do it. I pointed to his plate sitting on my worktable, the hot skillet on the stove and handed him a pair of tongs.

He took the tongs, addressed the stove and placed his meat in the pan. He then proceeded to pace in front of the stove which was a little difficult because of his size. As he paced back and forth, slouched over, he said he understood my desire for seeking perfection and that was one of the reasons he had brought his party to my restaurant. "I deal with red meat all day long and I just can't bear to see it when I'm eating." He said with a bit of apology in his voice. Thinking he must be a butcher or involved in the meatpacking industry I inquired as to what he did for a living.

"I'm an undertaker", was his reply.

Well, I nearly bit my tongue in two, to keep from laughting. I nodded my head and told him to let me know when his steak was to his desired doneness and I would finish the sauce. He looked at the skillet and said: "It's done!" Then he made his way out of the kitchen and back to his table. His entree was about 45 seconds behind him.

My sous chef Todd and I stepped out the back door and laughed ourselves silly as we recounted what had just happened. I am sure that our "undertaker" went back and told his party he had admonished the cook and got his steak done the way he wanted. I admit he should have gotten it that way in the first place but you forget the arrogance of youth. I will also say that his steak didn't spend enough time in that skillet to get any more than re-heated. It certainly wasn't well done. I did top it with copious amounts of sauce to hide any blood.

Steak Frites and Red Wine

In preparation for our second trip to Paris, I came across an article written by Mark Bittman for the New York Times on steak frites restaurants in Paris. His favorite at this juncture was a place called Le Severo in the 14th Arrondissement. I love steak and fries so I put this restaurant on my list.

After our trip to Rome Sally and I started renting apartments instead of staying in hotels. We felt you get more of an understanding of the culture if you stay in a neighborhood rather than a room at the Ritz. An apartment also gives the advantage of a kitchen so that you can take advantage of all the street markets and market streets. Paris is loaded with these. You can't imagine the torture a cook goes through seeing some of the best produce in the world and not being able to do something with it. As it is with all great food items, simple is best. Let the fruit, vegetable, fish or whatever speak for iteslf. We typically go out to the morning market pick up some of the really good stuff and fix that for dinner. So we hit a lot of the restaurants in Paris at lunch instead of dinner. Sometimes this makes it cheaper but not all the time, especially not at Le Severo.
 

Jambon de Bayonne

We were into our 10th day of our trip and hadn't yet gone to Le Severo. We had been that morning to the Raspail Market and had sliced Jambon de Bayonne, fresh fruit and a wedge of Brie de Meaux. We stopped on the way back to get chocolate macarons from Pierre Herme, a baguette from the boulangerie at # 78 Rue Saint Louis en I'lle and a nice Cote du Rhone from a shop a few doors down from the bakery. I suggested that since we were going to have such a light dinner we should hit Le Severo for a light lunch of their world famous Cote de Boeuf pour 2 with some frites.

Noticing that it was approaching 12:30, Sally suggested we call and see how late they were open for lunch. I seemed to remember in my research that it was 2:00 but I wasn't sure. (I have since corrected that problem and always get the open and close dates and times for restaurants on my lists.) I called and got a rather busy Monsieur William Bernet, the owner. He didn't speak English. My French is just about as bad as my Italian but I make the effort in hopes that I can cross the cultural barriers and show that I am at least trying. After 2 quick phone calls (quick on Monsieur Bernet's part not mine.) and some language difficulties, (on my part) I ascertained that they were open for lunch that day but I still wasn't sure of their cut off time.

We dashed to the Ile de la Cite Metro station. (Okay, leisurely walked.)  We hopped on the # 4 Metro headed south to the Porte d'Orleans. We rode it deep into the 14th Arrondissement and hopped off at the Alesia station, the next to last stop. We raced (Okay, more than leisurely walked.) up the Rue d'Alesia to the Rue des Plantes and to the door of # 8.

# 8 Rue des Plantes

I entered and immediately confronted Monsieur Bernet. It is a very small place, only 30 seats and he was the only server in the tiny dining room. In my perfect French I greeted him with "Bonjour Monsieur" and requested "C'est possible dejeuner pour deux? S'il vous plait." He eyed me up and down and I could tell from the look in his eye that he recognised my accent. He reached into the pocket of his white  jacket and pulled out his iPhone. He looked at it for a moment and then nodded his head and said in perfect English: "Yes, you are before 2:00. Just as I told you. Right this way."

Le Severo Beef

Yes, he speaks some English. The French get a bad reputation for being rude pretending they don't speak English when they do. I think that they fear they do not speak correct English so they don't try. When they hear someone like me slaughtering their beautiful French language they don't feel so bad about their English and in an attempt to equal my politeness they try. I had gotten through to Monsieur Bernet. He sat us in the middle of the dining room at one of the two empty tables. I didn't see any other tourist. His customer base was French businessmen.

He knew we were serious when we ordered the Cote de Boeuf pour 2. (80 Euros at that time.) No, he didn't ask how we would like our $110 steak cooked. When he served it perfectly "Saignant" and saw the gleam in our eyes as he set it on the table, he knew he had found kindred spirits. We didn't order any additional courses because we thought 2 to 3 pounds of beef would be enough. He served us excellent bread and that fantastic French butter. I had to stop myself from eating it so I would have room for the steak. When he served a huge mound of frites alongside of the steak, I told Sally that I wouldn't be having any because I was going to concentrate on the beef. That lasted about ten seconds. These frites were thick and had been cooked in duck fat. They are the best frites I have ever tasted. We finished the whole mound of frites and all the steak. (Yes, I did eat the last piece of beef off Sally's plate when she called, "Nuff".)

We washed this down with a bottle of water and two glasses of a very nice Cote du Rhone. (Yes, I was into Cote du Rhone on this trip.) The wine list here is quite extensive and takes up the majority of the chalkboards on the main wall. Monsieur Bernet is happy to guide you through it or to make a recommendation.

Monsieur Bernet And His Wall

I'm a cook and I like to collect menus. Monsieur Bernet's menu was on the chalkboard on the wall but he also had some handwritten menus for customers who couldn't read the wall. I knew we had come to an understanding when I asked if I could purchase one. He said "No." Then he crossed the room, picked a menu up off the bar, returned and handed it to me. We smiled. I thanked him. He said it was nothing.

That night after several long walks and a short nap (Yes, it was mine), we decided we didn't need any dinner...except for the chocolate macarons from Pierre Herme.

The next morning as we were crossing the bridge from Ile Saint Louis to the left bank we noticed a commotion on the quai. An area had been roped off and there were several gendarmes, a couple divers and a police boat. The tarp covered body lying on the quai told us that another Javert had taken his life by jumping off a bridge into the murky waters of the Seine. Even in the "City of Light" there is sometimes darkness.

I admit I'm a little sick. As we are standing there looking at this sad scene, the only thought going through my mind was: "I wonder if French undertakers have a problem with red meat?"

No, that's not possible!