Restaurant Chartier and Chez Jeanette

I had read about Restaurant Chartier on my favourite site of all things Parisienne, "Do it in Paris." It featured in their cheap weekend guide. And it was PERFECT.

I ate leeks dripping in a white viniagrette, followed by steak tartare and fresh "steak frites", followed by a baba au rhum and creme chantilly for dessert. N began with a country terrine, same for main and an ile flottant for dessert. We shared a karaf of the house red.

The building was gorgeous, somewhat like an old railway station (I think it may well be just that) with incredibly high ceilings, ornate mirrors, so many tables and brass luggage racks above the tables to place your coats and bags on (when everyone wears a "doudoune", a doona jacket, coat storage becomes a serious business...). The order is written on your table cloth and the waiters are all in black with full length white aprons. The food is cheap and arrives promptly. (Ordering a raw meal helps, I'm sure. Although the ladies next to us received their cooked meals just as fast.)

And as I ate my steak tartare, lavishly soaked in worsterchire (please, spelling someone?) and drank my second (third?) glass of wine, in the oh-so-french surrounds I felt completely a laise. I was exactly where I needed to be at that very moment. My dessert, meanwhile, was quite an introduction to the French favourite, Baba au Rhum.

It's basically a large brioche, soaked in brown rum and served with a generous swirl of whipped cream. I had confirmed with the waiter that I did indeed like rum, and boy did he take that to heart. Every mouthful postively squelshed with rhum. And I loved it. Loved. It.

This was followed by a noisette (macchiato) on the way to our next stop, C's house for farewell champagne. Then, we accompagnied C and her South American friends to Chez Jeanette for second dinner. N and I shared a house specialty, the duck pie. And boy, was that worth eating a second dinner for. Rich but not overwhelming, crispy but not dry, the salad fresh but not undressed. This time the bistro was noisy and crowded- hence why the five of us squeezed into a booth-side table meant for two. But, being French, the staff were most understanding and fully supported our intimate dinner arrangement. (Melbourne waiters would not be so kind about stacking customers one on top of the other.) The walls were tiled and the walls mirrored. And yet again, as the choruses of 50's and 60's rock and roll music caught my ears, and the duck pie disappeared one forkful at a time, and my wine glass emptied and re-filled itself I thought: I am happy. At this very moment, I am completely happy. I wouldn't be anywhere else, with anyone else.

And I'm glad, that in someway, I was able to recognise and share the moment. Because too often those moments happen without me realising. But not tonight.

Mmmm, squelchy rhum brioche.....