Le Train Bleu

Tonight I am having the Paris contingent for Mexican hors d’oeuvres, if one can say that. And I am put in mind of my trip last year. Loralyn and I decided to eat at Le Train Bleu.

This Belle Epoque restaurant is in the Gare de Lyon train station in Paris. It is up on the second floor overlooking the comings and goings down in the station. The place is stunning. Beyond what I could ever have imagined. The trip to the bathroom was like a trip to another world. The place is vaguely run down but more than serviceable and it’s dusty edges give it a realistic quality. 

Unfortunately, the food was not exactly Belle, though it was époques between sightings of the server. The menu itself was not appealing. Very old school, straight laced, nearly unappealing. The service was annoying, tooth-sucking, oblivious and patronizing all at the same time. I would love to go back. I’d endure the crappy service, but not for that food. 

Maybe I will merely drink at the bar. Which would be fine with Loralyn.

Braise revisited

Second visit to Braise. Food was great but the service was questionable. Made even more so because the table next to us was getting sublime service from the same server. 

It’s hard not to notice that the table next to you is getting new silver wear with every course (presented in a box with a napkin folded tidily in it) while our used old forks and knives were put on the table as the old plates went out and new came in (small plates), that the other table of 4 (it was just Ashish and I at our table) came in after us, ordered after us and were served way before us. It was impossible to catch the waiter’s (Lori) eye. I hate it when I am being obviously ignored. Even when she was standing looking across their table right at you.

I nearly asked the neighboring table how they were managing to get such great service. After we left Ashish told me that they were investors or owners. I had not caught that and then I wished I had asked them.

This is the remains of the cheese plate. Blueberry compote accompanied the “house-made” bread. The cheese was great, the blueberries overwhelmed all of it.

When will the term “house-made” die? It can go the way of “How is everything tasting?” (pronounced “tasteen”). I HATE that question. 

 

Everything is tasteen fine, however, you may want to make an appearance every 10 minutes or so.