Paris Eat & Drink

On my second to last night in Paris I walked around the 7th with my friend Aurore, in search of sustenance. Tired, saddled with sore feet, we decided not to travel to our restos of choice. I told myself that I was duty. As long as I found good bread, wine and something simple, we were happy. Around the corner from Robuchon's L'Atelier,(the back up plan) we passed Chez Patrick--a snug, Parisian address, almost cute, but not quite, and certainly cozy. We peeked in through the lace and saw a front, round table populated by black-clad men having too good a time. There were multiple bottles of a down-rent Burgundy and I immediately thought, forget this one. But there was bumper car pile-up of wines on the sideboard. Did I see Breton? Did I see Puzelat? I pressed my nose to the window and looked harder. And then, I pulled Aurore into shelter from the hungry streets of Paris. Patrick himself, a Pee-Wee Herman look-a-like, delivered a plate of radish, saucisse, butter and crustilly sour bread. I asked him why he had so many of the vin naturel, and he laughed and said, "Because they are the best." For all of my grousing about the state of Parisian bar a vins, it seems as if the trickle down effect, good wine in neighborly spots, was a happy result of the movement. We were tempted by real food: marinated anchovies, herring salad with warm potatoes, home made ravioli. We chose artichokes and perfectly prepared simple salad with chapeaus of parmesean. The affable Patrick gave us no attitude for eating like sparrows. For those with real appetites, the food looked promising and no plat was priced higher than 21 euro. But just because we were eating rabbit food, there is a lot to be learned from the delicate saucing and fine quality of the parm and the greens and choice of breads. This Patrick cared about food. Aurore was in the mood for something rich, rustic and sunny and when I saw a wine I had recently noticed at the Nicolas Joly Return to Terroir tasting in Angers (and noted with stars) -- 2004 Clos Fantine, Faugeres--my choice was clear: 34 euro? No problem. Not only was the wine great, the food to the point, but the dinner came with more than a soupcon of entertainment. If the boisterous scenes in wine bars had gone mainstream, seemed that the party had moved to Patrick, a non-hipster, old time restaurateur, filled with neighborhood non-hipster, loyal patrons. Half-way into our artichoke and Fantine, (Don't faint. The wine pairing police did not come for us) for a reason I could not determine, the manic Pee-Wee Herman look-a-like Patrick,, turned fire extinguisher on one of the men in black, the one who was a Corsican developer. Pee-Wee then pretended to bugger another of the men we pegged as Serbian Mafia. He then asserted his heterosexuality by nuzzling his waitress. With the art on the walls, of a time--signed over to Patrick, it seems as if the man was quite the character in the late 70's. If you go, solve the mystery for me. Chez Patrick 48/50 Rue de Verneuil 75007, Paris 01 42 86 81 87