Backstory: So in April I passed by this place which is but a few steps from the office-home of my rabble-rousing friend in the 9th, stepped in and was warmly greeted. "How long have you been here?" "10 years, come back, come back!" The food of the region is of some interest to me having visited there and I resolved to do just that.
5.2 (L)A Garonne, 60, rue Saint-Lazare in the 9th, 01.48.74.35.61 is closed Saturday, Sunday and Monday for lunch (Metro: Trinite) and has a South-West carte and "menus" plus an incredibly gracious host and bottles on the wall from which to choose, but more about that later.
Madame and I both chose a cassolette of escargots with parsley and too much salt; for a wine, I leaned back and plucked a bottle of Buzet off the shelf almost at random - "You know", our host says, "that's a great wine, I live right next door." OK.
Madame ordered up some lamb chops with haricots while I wanted to test the South-West stuff, so went with the cassoulet with 3 confits and (ah.....discussion, "avec navets ou haricots?" Humm - "navets, no haricots, no navets, no haricots.") Goodness gracious, what obsessing on my part. In any case, the lamb (by me) was too way too turned to mutton, plus overcooked, but my pal loved it/them and my cassoulet was a bit banal which if one were "Christian" one could call "standard," and the meat stuff was not terribly interesting.
For dessert we shared an astonishingly good "terrine" of agrumes with a cherry sauce and with our coffees we got very fine stuffed prunes from Agen.
Our bill, which our kind host fiddled with thinking I was related to the Talbot wines of France not Talbott wines of California, was 86 E for two.
Go? I loved our host, the wines, the ambiance, the South-West spin, but I suspect Colette would not find it so charming next month even with soft music and a 83.1 dB level.
