Keep it comin’

Georges: Sixth floor of the Pompidou, 4eme
Went with: Cheryl on a Saturday night
Had: Rolls and butter (ahhh, the rare and elusive French butter in a restaurant—miam!), a roquette, fig and parmesan salad and a small platter of artichokes (split between us); chicken paillard with mango chutney; chocolate fondant (split between us, though I did more damage—quel surprise).
Impressions: It’s touristy and overpriced but, boy, am I glad we went. Because the food is pretty damn good. The views are great. And it was fun to share the experience with my good friend visiting from New York.

Ralph’s: 173 Boulevard Saint-Germain, 6eme
Went with: Mel and Mrs. Unger on a Tuesday night
Had: Too! Much! Food! And wine! Kir royales, fried olives, baby eggplant, cornmeal crusted cod with kidney beans and spinach, and we split dessert: fruit cobbler… though the cobbler was really more of a shortbread.
Impressions: Every report you’ve heard is dead-on. The space is fabulous, the terrace is dreamy, and every detail is impeccably conceived and executed. Except the food. The food was just okay. And there was a bit of a snafu in the kitchen, resulting in a last-minute switcheroo for Mel’s dinner. Though the service was wonderful and accommodating, such a splurge should be much closer to perfection.

Pizza Chic: 13 rue de Mézières, 6eme
Went with: Jo on a Wednesday night
Had: We split two pies: a white pie with a creamy artichoke sauce, roquette and shaved Parm, and the other pizza, with sauce and mozzarella and grilled veggies.
Impressions: I have been obsessed with pizza lately. And I’ve been wanting to go to this oh-so-chic (really, it’s adorable) spot in the sixth for awhile. So I got Jo to broach the foreign frontier known as the Left Bank once again for an indulgent evening of pizza and wine (holy cow, 16-euro glasses of Barolo?! Little did we know. Hrmph.). Yeah, the prices were a bit much. But the atmosphere and food sure were delicious.