The real red

Until I discovered Pudlo, I naively put my faith in American glossies and newsprint when it came time to eat in Paris. It just never occurred to me that those so-smooth and so-savvy New Yorkers dishing in between the ads might have cribbed from a guidebook published only in French. The shock came the summer afternoon I was killing time in FNAC, my consort’s methadone while deprived of B&H’s heroin, and came across this sleek and smart guidebook whose author sounded Polish and whose advice in between the ads sounded hipper than Michelin’s. My French is about as good as your Sanskrit, but the design made it pretty clear which restaurants were musts to experience (if not so clear which were musts to avoid). The best part was the first few pages of “award winners:” chef of the year, bistro of the year, patissier of the year, fromagere of the year. Where I had I seen those names before? Continue reading