The new Paris bistros that get the most attention tend to be comets l aunched by Michelin stars as they threaten to disintegrate, deprived of the vital heat of endless world travel and unlimited expense accounts. These offshoots could be compared, perhaps unjustly, to the local shops opened or bought up by supermarkets in order to monopolize the casual trade as well as the expensive weekly shopping. And so we dropped by for lunch, wondering whether we would find an authentic period piece or a pop art extravaganza.
A small piece of formica broken off the edge of a panel revealed that it was chipboard rather than the solid wood which would have prevailed in such an establishment half a century ago. On the wall near our table was a clue as to why Le Duc had been set up with such a retro image. It was a newspaper clipping, yellowed with age, which announced the closure of a bistro with the same name at , rue de Richelieu.
He writes that it served. A short blackboard list of proprietary wines [right] suggests that the link between the old and new bistros might indeed be this wine merchant or his successor. I shall make an effort to find out. My main course however, Estouffade de boeuf aux petits legumes , was utterly sensational, a melt-in-the-mouth beef stew which must have been braised in the requisite red wine for the full eight hours.
I had a taste, but my attention was centered on my incredible estouffade. Wanting to be certain that we could face a full dinner that evening, we decided to forego dessert. As we left, Mary suggested that we return for lunch the following day, a thought that had already crossed my mind and with which I readily concurred. Arriving shortly after opening, we were greeted by the same waiter as though we were regulars.
He showed us to the same table and when I suggested that our names should be inscribed there on a plaque, he agreed with a chuckle. This being a Saturday, there was no set menu, so we happily consulted the carte.
