During my three years in Paris I've studied the locals up close like a science project. They're funny ones, the Frenchies. They rarely notice when their dogs drop a hot load on the sidewalk - best to leave that for someone else. They can be seen in summer, sporting woolen scarves like nooses, as if fearing a polar breeze. Strangest of all, they eat finger-foods with knife and fork. I've seen them carve up a burger, fork pieces of sandwich into their mouths and even attack a pizza with cutlery! So, when my Al Taglio pizza arrived pre-chopped, sans silverware, I got out my notepad and pencil. Time for some Frenchie-watching! They struggled mightily when the pizza arrived. They looked around, confused. Slowly, after accepting the lack of silverware, they reluctantly picked up their pizza shards. I wanted to give em a hug and tell em everything would be alright, but feared the pizza grease I might get on my back.
It's Roman-style folks. Large trays of pies are cut to order by the staff using a scissors. You pay by weight, which can be scary as you eat first and pay later. Turns out, the price is reasonable by Paris standards. The cheese with speck was satisfying. The crust was light and crackly, the way I like it.
27 rue Saintonge