There are a lot of arguments in Paris - I see one person yelling at another almost every day. After getting our menus in the newly opened Frascati restaurant last night, we were treated to the day’s serving of drama. The chef was berating two workers, both of whom were staring at their feet. He was banging a ham against a slicer to punctuate his yelling. “Dans cette cuisine, JE SUIS LE CHEF! Pas TOI et pas TOI, c’est MOI!” He looked like he could kill them. Two conflicting thoughts entered my brain. One: this chef is passionate – his food is going to be great. Two: this chef is crazy, even if the food sucks I better finish it or he may beat me up.
Luckily, the chef's passion translated into tastiness! The mozarella and tomato plate was incredible. The mozarella was freshly-made and moister than I'm used to and there were both fresh and sun-dried tomatoes. It will be hard to eat this somewhere else now. Equally excellent was the rigatoni with truffle sauce, mushrooms and slices of ham. I wrapped each bite with a bit of ham and was totally contented.
The ravioli were ordinary - though I don't tend to like ravioli so I will let the Pingles comment. What is true is that we cleaned every plate but this one. As the angry chef was still storming around the place, neither of us was comfortable with this half-eaten plate. Pingles was whispering to me "Babe, can you put this plate in front of you?" I feigned deafness and stared past her.
Frascati is small - a cozy room littered with bric-a-brac that seats perhaps twenty elbow-to-elbow. If you're in the Marais and in the mood for some Italian, check it out.
47, rue du Temple