Rarely does the Paris-of-the-movies intersect with real life but on a recent afternoon, outside in sunshine filtered by leafy-green Bagatelle Park, they came together as one. The evil me felt sorry for you. You should've been there at Bagatelle, blowing off your afternoon meetings, sipping wine and taking small bites of prawn risotto with cuttlefish in veal stock. I chewed slowly, glancing at the deep blue sky and felt happy knowing the weekend, though a day off, had already arrived. The prawns had that perfect smoky barbecue aftertaste, drawing me further into summer, to the 4th of July.
As they say, it's all about the location. That cannot be truer with Bagatelle because though the food is hit and miss, you simply don't care. At least I didn't. It's smack in the middle of the Bois de Boulogne on the western edge of the city. I was sitting outside in the warm breeze, enveloped in a quiet rustle of leaves and was non-plussed by the lesser components of the meal.
42 route de Sevres