So when Bruce String-bean and his partner Helen Mirin came to town, Restaurant Il Vino – Enrico Bernado’s Michelin star restaurant where wine comes first – was an obvious choice. Upon arrival at the very chic little right bank dwelling (where Brad purportedly took Angelina for her 38th birthday dinner), we were greeted by Enrico Bernado himself, the charming, and very humble owner (and youngest-ever winner of the Worlds Best Sommelier award). Wine is the protagonist at Il Vino and everything, from the waitstaff (who are all world class sommeliers), to the menu (from which food is distinctly absent), to the interior design (which is based on earthy terroir tones) is decidedly oeno-centric.

In a rather novel concept, there is no choice of food whatsoever, you simply choose the wine and the chefs bring food to match. The degustation menu consisted of three options; Sur les Routes du Monde – (wines from the world) 75 euros, Sur les Routes de France et Italie – (wines from France and Italy) 95 euros, and Supplement Grands Crus – (optional addition of Grands Crus wines) 35 euros, from which we chose the latter.

And so the wine flight began….with a delicious glass of Bruno Roulot a La Chapelle-Monthodon champagne served with homemade seaweed crisps and parmesan straws.  A lovely plump ball of burrata sitting on an incredibly flavoursome tomato gelée dotted with what appeared to be anchovy stuffed blueberries (or it could have been something else entirely) followed suite –  making a perfect marriage with the crisp, nosey and interestingly mineral Vermentino 2013 Bolgheri . 

Sticking with the Vermentino,  next up was a very tender and oddly tasty square of marinated salmon covered in shredded coconut –  basically a salmon lamington –  and a tad too-chewy pastry puff filled with a divinely unctuous parmesan cream.

Continuing dad’s much-loved tradition of wine guessing, for the next leg of the flight the sommelier gave us a black wine glass and made us guess the contents.  Despite tasting undeniably like a red, I, thinking there must be a trick, guessed it was one of those orange wines that seem to be making cameos in trendy Parisian wine bars of late. I was completely and utterly (and embarrassingly) off the mark. Papa Bruce String-bean was, of course, right on the money with his guess of a Nero D’Avola. It was indeed a very full bodied glass of rich Il Passo Nerello Mascalese which was served, surprisingly with a fish course – a most toothsome tuna tataki, with perfect seared edges, and a fuchsia pink middle, peppered with deliciously tangy fruits of the forest. This was hands down one of the best dishes of the night.

The peppery turbot that was served next, although delicious, left the spot-light on the entirely moreish glass of Les Heritiers du Comte Lafon from Burgundy. The beautifully complex biodynamic white produced by renowned French winemaker Dominique Lafon was one of my favourite wines of the evening.

Moving onto meats and big reds – up next was what could only be described as an (absolutely delicious) chicken sausage roll, which was lolling about in an intense (again, delicious) jus and served with a heavenly glass of 2004 Giorgio Pelissero Nubiola, Barbaresco DOCG, Italy – swiftly followed by showstopper 2004 Château Canon 1er Grand Cru Classé de Saint-Emilion with a sumptuous rack of lamb to match.

After our little tour of France and Italy, by the time the wine flight landed in Languedoc, I was excessively full, and demonstrably tipsy and when the enormous chunk of parmesan was carved out of the wheel and placed on my slate, as partner to the Chateau Daurion Syrah/Grenache 2011, I simply couldn’t fit it in.  And so, much to Helen Mirin’s horror, I wrapped up the cheese in a napkin and placed it in my bag for later.

No, it wasn’t very chic, but hey, que syrah syrah. 

A moreish little praline choux pastry and an endless parade of mignardises, matched with a Moscato D’Asti 2013, ended what was a fabulous, innovative and memorable experience. Bernado’s passion for wine is evident in every aspect of his restaurant, from his dedicated, friendly and knowledgable team, to his ridiculously stellar cellar.

After kissing Bruce String-bean and Helen Mirin bonne nuit, my night (somewhat inevitably) continued with a very late night boogie in Oberkampkf (red wine lips and sweating parmesan in tow) with Olivia-Crouton John and Kanye Wurst and ended (again somewhat inevitably) in me sending a series of unsolicited texts to my spring fling Peas Brosnan at 5am telling him that I was eating peanut butter with a spoon and missed him.

I guess you could say it was an old case of in (Il) Vino veritas.

Yours sancerrely

xoxo

Paris Stilton

While the French seem incapable of pronouncing an H at the beginning of any sentence in which it is necessarily required (help becomes “elp”, have morphs into “ave” and happy indubitably comes out as “appy”), they are oft inclined to add a forceful H at the beginning of words where it is not needed, creating their own hilarious conlang of vocab such as hupgrade, helephant and hunderstand (for the first 6 months at her new job, a friend of mine actually thought that her colleague was called Harthur – I kid you not).

And so it was that sister Sienna Millet, Yummy Mummy and I found ourselves squeezed onto a mezzanine table at Restaurant Pirouette, chortling at the very dashing young waiter’s statement “I sink you should ave ze hegg”. The hegg in question was a perfect coddled egg, served with haddock, cauliflower and croutons. And golly gosh was it good.

Tucked away behind a monstrous car park and a concrete jungle of renovations that is currently Les Halles, Pirouette – with its large, open, steel-clad glass windows, Scandi style wood furnishings and charismatic staff – brings a ray of distinction to an otherwise fairly charmless corner of Paris.  Chef Tomy Gousset (formerly of Daniel in New York and Le Meurice, amongst others, in Paris) whips up consistently fresh, seasonal, and ever evolving dishes on an extremely well priced prix-fixe menu. At lunch the restaurant offers an 18€ 3 course menu, as well as à la carte options and at night there is a 40€ 3 course menu or a 60€ 6 course chef’s surprise menu.

Still giggling at the very endearingly translated ‘dolphin potatoes’ (pommes dauphinoises) we popped open our bottle of Chateauneuf de Pape to celebrate Sienna Millet’s birthday and got started on our little amuse bouche of shortbread biscuits with wasabi paste and herring eggs and coffee cream topped prosciutto slices – which were both as tasty as they were innovative.

For entree, Sienna Millet’s cured trout (truite bio, citrons et oignons confite, noisettes) was a bit trite, while Yummy Mummy’s perfect egg was slightly less than perfect, but wonderful nonetheless.

However my gnocchi with morels (gnocchi, morilles, sauce vin jaune) was, quite honestly, one of the best pasta dishes I have had since moving to France. I have such a deep fondness for French mushrooms – the succulent chanterelles, the tempting trompettes de mort, the sumptuous cepes, and best of all, those magical, moreish morels. The beautifully fresh (not vaguely floury) gnocchi was snuggled amongst whole morels piped with an intensely flavoursome jus, and finished with young fresh sprouted green leaves, a trace of pureed spinach and a light yellow wine sauce. It was pure, mouthwatering, indulgence.

Everyone had food envy – the best kind of morel dilemma.

For mains Sienna Millet and Yummy Mummy went for the beautifully executed slow cooked lamb shoulder (epaule d’agneau, oignon, darphin, piment) which was topped with incredibly sweet seared baby onions encasing a deeply aromatic jus with a gourmet hashbrown potato cake as accompaniment. Needless to say they both licked their plates clean.

I went for the duck (canard, asperges, kum kwat, porc) – a perfectly pink, jus coated specimen covered in tiny, slightly bitter confit cumquats with a delicious stem of fresh asparagus and tiny peppering of croutons to give it a bit of crunch. I believe there was also some pork in there…somewhere.  A delicately presented dish with subtle, yet interesting flavour and texture combinations – I was one very happy little duckling indeed.

Approaching dessert time, I managed to sneakily get the waiters to cover Sienna Millets (food-envy engendering) rice pudding (topped with salted caramel butter, crushed macarons and honey coated granola) in toppling candles and the whole restaurant erupted in cheerful stanzas of ‘joyeux anniversaire’ while Sienna Millet, Yummy Mummy and I bathed in a wine induced merriness.

For desserts I went for the melting meringue with mango, passionfruit, peanuts and coconut (meringue fondante, mague/passion, coco, cacahuettes) which was, for all intents and purposes, a fabulous rendition of my least favourite dessert the infamous île flottante.

All in all it was a fabulous night, replete with delicious food, beautiful wine and unbeatable company.  The space is light, open, polished, warm and welcoming, and the food unpretentious, seasonal and decidedly (and indeed consistently) moreish.

Pirouette – a good hegg.

xoxo

Paris Stilton