I’ve well planned my trip to Paris this Fall. Compared to my first visit five years ago, I hoped to experience it more like a local – avoiding crowded tourist attractions and making more explorations in residential areas. Dining in one or two fancy local restaurants was part of the plan. I imagined that it would be a small and lovely neighborhood restaurant with warm lighting and local diners. Not necessarily Michelin-starred but still somewhere to taste some authentic French dishes.
Two weeks before my trip, I spotted a restaurant, let’s call it Chez X, from Netflix food-centric travel series “I’ll have what Phil’s having”. The episode was all about Paris. With playful whistling background music, beautiful scenic Paris views, funny and enthusiastic host Phil, and of course, savory foods and desserts, it lifted my mood instantly and made me feel more passionate about Paris. I carefully wrote down the restaurants featured in that episode and literally became the person who will have what Phil’s having.
Sunglasses, wool beret, and floral dress, I dolled up for that bright and crisp Fall day in Paris and couldn’t wait to enjoy authentic French cuisine which I’d booked two weeks in advance.
The staff welcomed me and pulled the whole table out to seat me in since the space is really small. I looked around, although small, it looked really cozy and low key with dimmed lighting which was just as perfect as I imagined. I ordered duck as my entrée. The server asked me how I’d like it cooked. I said medium well. He frowned and commented that the chef wouldn’t do that. They only cooked it rare. I’d never heard of eating rare duck. Also, was it even safe to eat uncooked duck breast? Noticing my hesitation, the server murmured, “I’ll see what the chef can do.” Without smiling, he left. It seemed that he was afraid to get in trouble by bothering the chef with such an exotic request. As it turned out, the duck breast on my plate was still very pink. It was so hard to cut through that my hands got exhausted even before I finished just half of it. Since I was dining shoulder to shoulder with fellow patrons, an elderly couple beside me started noticing. “What a hard work!” They were musing, and we started chatting. Turned out they were also following the Netflix series just like I was.
One server brought a big dish to another table not far from me, a lady requested to take a picture of the food before it was served in a small portion for every one of that table. While the lady turned around to take her camera out, the server already started making small portions and serving the food and commented in an imperative tone, “Enjoy the moment! Taking pictures is what tourists do!” The lady was still talking as she turned back, “my daughter hopes to see the food during my trip.” Her words seemed hanging in the air. By accent and conversations I couldn’t avoid over-hearing due to the small space, I realized that four tables in a row were filled with people from the U.S. and everyone was a tourist including the lady who requested a picture of the food.
By then, I peeked into the kitchen and saw the “master chef” who was busy looking into different order papers as the restaurant was fully packed. He looked even more serious than the servers.
I’ve heard about how serious those celebrity chefs could be. Even asking for salt and pepper was insulting them. But I found it paradoxical – shouldn’t satisfying the patrons be any restaurant’s number one responsibility? After all, people came to eat instead of worshipping the chef. My French friend said, “Oh, darling, you should always trust the chef.” If so, they should never ask for customer feedback since I highly doubt if they really care.
The young couple sitting on my right said they had eaten pizza for several nights and this was their first formal meal which made them very excited. The husband of the elderly couple who sat on my left cut his octopus so intensely into tiny pieces and of equal size. He said it was good but not the best he’d ever eaten. I absolutely enjoyed chatting with them and sharing the thrill of traveling to Paris but I didn’t enjoy the meal itself mostly because of the authoritative attitude of the servers. Maybe the business was too good and the chef was too proud to make any extra efforts to please their patrons.
I guess I should stress that it was only one not so good experience among many good ones in Paris. Good or not so good, they have deepened my understanding of a destination and given me more perspectives about how things work. Isn’t that my very reason to travel?