What's with this whole tapas thing?
Jim's Musings from Paris May 2024
I know this is not going to be a popular opinion, but I just don’t get the whole tapas phenomenon. Having recently returned from our third trip to Spain in a year, I can definitely say: Enough is enough. Now, I like hors d’oeuvres, starters, finger food, whatever you call them, and I can get into sharing an appetizer as much as the next person. Ordering a plate of frites for the table or nibbling on a cheese and sausage plate or a basket of jalapeño poppers or deep-fried pickle slices, is a great way to meet friends over a glass of beer or wine. And tapas fill this bill splendidly. They’re tiny portions of a variety of savory creations, like an amuse-bouche. The problem comes when they’re expected to not only amuse one’s bouche, but to sate it as well. As they’ve grown more popular, tapas are often combined into a meal and this is where they fall short for me.
In the Basque Country of northwestern Spain and southwestern France, tapas are called pintxos. Actually, pintxos are one type of tapas, which is especially popular in the Basque Country. Pintxos are typically slices of bread sporting pieces of fish, ham, sausage, or other delicacies held in place by a toothpick. Believe me, they do not a meal make. In the city of San Sebastiàn, we found it difficult to find a family-friendly Spanish restaurant that is not a pintxos bar. And in these bars, the customers are expected to keep ordering pintxos until they’ve eaten their fill. It’s tedious and expensive.
We were at one pintxos place, a Mexican fusion pintxos bar, with a menu of tacos and quesadilla inspired pintxos. After we ordered drinks, a plate of four tacos, a plate of four quesadillas, and a large bowl of guacamole with chips, the server looked at the four of us (five with Léo) and said (in Spanish), Is that all you’re ordering? Si, we replied, for now. He then sniffed, turned up his nose, and said, with some disdain: Poco.
In the end, we ordered more pintxos tacos.
Our Basque Country odyssey began in Biarritz, a beautiful French resort town, with lovely beaches. The sun was hot and we all happily turned our faces skyward after the long, gray Parisian winter. We had lunch on the terrace of a restaurant near the Plage du Port Vieux. I devoured a delicious ceviche in a tangy mango sauce. Unforgettable. Definitely worth getting sunburned. We visited the aquarium and walked leisurely along the coastal promenade.
The sun and heat followed us to Bilbao, a large city that was once a Spanish shipbuilding center. The city now boasts one of Frank Gehry’s captivating architectural creations for the Guggenheim Museum-Bilbao. The immense galleries allow the museum to display acquisitions that normally might just lie in storage for years. We marveled at Richard Serra’s The Matter of Time, a series of large sculptural forms, ellipses and spirals. Léo, especially, loved moving through these fragments. I thought, as I proceeded from the simple to the complex, how much walking through these towering forms emulated the solitude and intimacy of a walk in the woods.
When we returned to Paris, Jairo took off the next day to visit friends in Italy. I stayed home for a weekend of choral rehearsals at Chateau de Trilbardou, outside of Paris. MéloMen schedules two of these residential weekends each year—one in the fall and one in the spring. Two days of intensive rehearsal provide a great opportunity for developing and deepening the relations among the members of the chorus, especially with the Saturday night “no-talent show” and dance party—and many hours of focused rehearsals. The food this time was catered, rather than being prepared by the chateau’s staff, and it was much better than what we had in the autumn. Good food puts everyone in a good mood. I had brought a gateau Basque for the Saturday lunch dessert buffet from Maison Adam, a patisserie in Biarritz operating since 1660. It was delicious, as were the other cakes and sweets provided by some of the chorus members.
When Jairo is out of town and I’m alone in Paris, I like to explore places to eat in the neighborhood. This time I finally found an excellent pizza place. I know that pizza is a very subjective food item, so what I believe is an exquisite pizza may not appeal to you at all. Paris supposedly eats more pizza than any other city in the world and I thought I would easily find a pizza that satisfied me. But it’s taken almost three years. Much of the pizza in Paris is akin to what I call “Ohio” pizza—thick, fluffy, doughy, edges with an excessive amount of cheese and a soggy center. I don’t like it.
I’ve always had good pizza around me. Growing up in Wisconsin, my hometown was very near Medford, where a rural tavern started turning out pizzas that eventually became Tombstone Pizza. In the suburbs of Chicago, we had Perry’s Pizza, a delicious thin crust pie. Perry’s “joynt” just closed last year. In St. Paul, there was Green Mill Pizza. They started in a small bar near Macalester College and grew into a major Twin Cities phenomenon. I fondly remember walking to their flagship location after rehearsals in the cold winters of St. Paul and sharing a delicious thin crust pizza and a bottle of wine.
In Akron, there is Luigi’s, a very special pizza (and a unique salad to go along with it) and in Cleveland, there’s that place in Lakewood that Tom Hanks likes—what’s it called? Angelo’s? Good pizza.
But not until I came upon AVE Pizza Romana, in the trendy Oberkampf neighborhood, did I truly fall in love with a Parisian pizza. A thin, crispy crust with a delicious, fresh red sauce and buffalo mozzarella make this a memorable Margherita experience. The atmosphere is perfect—stripped walls and industrial lighting. The restaurant is located a bit off the beaten track, the prices are reasonable, and the service is attentive. I have been there now twice already. Oh, and they give you a pair of scissors to cut your pizza. Nice.
We now have a list of favorite eating places near our apartment that includes: a pizza place, a creperie, a Vietnamese restaurant for pho and BoBun, a Nepalese and Korean restaurant, two French restaurants (a bit upscale), and a Japanese sushi place. On our street, there is an Irish pub, on one end, that serves a decent hamburger or chicken sandwich and a German bar, on the other end, where you can get brats and kraut. Excellent.
I continue to look for the ultimate Paris burger experience. Patrick’s (the Irish pub) is good , but not outstanding. I also like PNY (Paris New York). They do a tasty job with both burgers and chicken sandwiches. I was excited to try a place near us called L’Echoppe. From the outside, it looks perfect, a small rustic looking spot that only serves burgers. However, the burger I ordered was almost inedible. Their idea of cheddar cheese was some kind of gooey mess, that had nothing to do with cheddar or cheese, smothering the tiny, tough patty. We had a similar burger in Biarritz during our trip to the Basque Country and we suffered all night long.
I am still looking for a good Indian restaurant (there are several to try in the neighborhood), the right Middle Eastern couscous/tagine restaurant, a good Chinese restaurant, a casalinga Italian pasta place, and an inexpensive French bistrot. But we have time. In this vital, culturally diverse city, every day brings a new discovery.
Let me know if you have some favorite Paris restaurants that you think we should try. You get bonus points if it’s near our apartment, in the 11th or 12th arrondissements.
Doug is no longer up to traveling, but when I am able I will be at your doorstep. :)
Thanks for your thoughts Jim ! Delightful to read and I also began to feel hungry reading your description of the dream-pizza. Have you ever tried Peppe Pizzeria, 2 Pl. Saint-Blaise, 75020 Paris ? One of my favourites.