Best Food In China

Location

A cross between a brasserie and a ramshackle old bookshop tucked somewhere on the cobbled streets of the quartier latin in Paris, Le Petit Gourmand is the place to decant over a long, rich meal, recharge with a light mustard vinaigrette over greens, borrow a book, or linger for hours writing and re-writing the first chapter of a novel.

Booths upholstered in boudoir red and dim lamps with dangling crystals make the space slightly reminiscent of a glamorous 1920’s theater, while slightly uneven stone floors and an abundance of cherry red bookshelves lined with sundry second-hand books restore a feeling of intimacy. Endearingly nicked black wooden tables subtly catch the light; that warm brasserie glow that has nurtured irreverent minds since the days of Sartre, Buñuel, Hemingway and Cortázar. The music, a pleasing selection of light jazz à la “Stormy Weather” muddled in with the chagrin of Edith Piaf, is a welcome soundtrack for crêpes au sarrasin or a salade au brie chaud.

Our meal began with a shrimp, salmon and avocado tartare surrounded with thinly-sliced swirls of lemon that fanned out around it like small bow ties. It was as fresh and refreshing as the chilled glass of rosé served with it.

Next was the super galette, made at a small crêpe station with a real crêpe turntable surrounded by proudly displayed sacks of farine au sarrasin. It was generously stuffed with cheese, ham, and mushrooms that were a tad too salty for my taste, although the fluffy, almost omelette-like insides of the crêpe more than compensated for the saltiness. A pure-blooded Breton might complain that the crêpe was overcooked, although I appreciated its appetizing golden brown glow and easiness to digest.

Pan seared goose liver served over a beef filet was the main course, accompanied by two large dollops of mashed potatoes that had a striking resemblance to jiaozi. This course was served on a large white plate spotted with small puddles of pesto sauce; a rare but pleasant accompaniment to the foie gras.

For dessert, we enjoyed powdered sugar sprinkled strips of pain perdu topped with a ball of vanilla ice cream. The plate was drizzled in a cross-stitch of berry syrup that made it a festive without turning it soggy, a common fate for pain perdu.

We ate indoors, seated in a cozy booth that backed up against a great wall of books, but diners who prefer eating outdoors can snag a table on the terrace. Spacious and airy, it overlooks the Nali Patio and 3.3 market, a marvelously central part of Sanlitun, but one that can be quite noisy, especially in the evenings and on weekends. Fortunately, Le Petit Gourmand is on the third floor, so it commands a view but remains a peaceful retreat for all seasons. In the winter, diners who get a table in the easternmost corner of the terrace can sip vin aux épices next to a real fire-wood burning stove. An extensive collection of flavored syrups and Ricard will keep even the most homesick Frenchman appropriately hydrated throughout Beijing’s scorching summer.

A multi-lingual library of over 900 books acquired from Beijing’s very own Bookworm lines the walls of Le Petit Gourmand. Titles range from the Cabbage Patch Kids to Patricia Cornwall, and are scattered in no particular order. General manager Yang Hong Yu expressed his hopes to soon have the books organized by genre to make them easier to look through and borrow, but until then, guests can enjoy the serendipity of stumbling upon a good find. Right next to Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, for example, I picked up a naughty little paperback set in New York’s Hudson Valley during the Great Depression. “Their hemlines, like their finances, were down,” the book begins, “but murder was on the rise.” I’m flying through the book, which has me tantalized with its twisted tale of a perfect murder. Finishing it will give me the perfect motive to return for another meal.

-- by Roseann Lake

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