Le Potage du Marais, 22 Rue Rambuteau, 75003
This evening I found myself on Rue Rambuteau, near Beaubourg after spending a beautiful afternoon ambling through Le Marais, in the 3rd. Which some may know as my old stomping grounds, the last time I was through Paris.
It was a wonderfully warm and sunny day to parambulate with only a brief stopover into BHV, a huge department store near Hotel de Ville (city hall) on Rue Rivoli (the shopping street to end all shopping streets, for those not in the tax bracket of Champs-Elysees scene). It was a successful and unsuccessful foray into the world of expenditure in that I didn’t end up with a bra (now that I can use my thumb to fasten things, I’m no longer limited to the world of the sports bra) but I did get a glue stick, which I needed. For glueing things, obviously. I was very disappointed to find that the little patisserie near BHV no longer makes mini molleux! Joanne obviously didn’t share this news with me for fear that I would be saddened by it, and so I am. Not only that, but they had no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned them! What kind of patisserie are they running, I mean honestly!
So on I went, a quick drop into free p star, which is likely the most comprehensive second hand store in all of paris, just long enough to confirm that the already very crowded with clothes of every description store was very crowded with people. Too much for me. I’m thinking it must be spring break or easter break or something because the streets seem to be rife with youngin’s everywhere! Tho it would probably help if I left the house before school gets out, just to test it. I do know that all the churchy minded people are genuinely excitable this week cuz it is the anniversary of that time that dude who was voted most likely to be eaten by chocolate bunnies by his graduating class did something or other of merit. Something about resuscitation..perhaps he was a lifeguard. At any rate, the streets of Paris overflow with people who should really be in school, that’s what it comes down to really.
And so how happy was I to come across Le Potager du Marais and escape the maddening crowds into a safe haven of vegan delights. I think they serve straight through friday and saturday, while monday through thursday they close between 3 and 6. This is somewhat common practice for some restaurants in Paris as far as I can tell. I was fairly hungry, not famished, but glad to sit and eat. Thinking it would be light faire I ordered the Potage du jour, which was made with courgette et brocoli (that’s zuccini and broccoli of course) and a green salad. I couldn’t finish the salad. Which was too bad because I really wanted to order the gluten free vegan almond cake with pistachios and something else that made it sound yummy. But no, too full. Granted, my stomach is likely somewhat smaller from not eating for a week, but still the portions were ample. And the soup was delicious! The salad, being a green salad, shredded lettuce, various kinds of sprouts with a bottle each of oil and vinegar so I could splash them as much or as little over my salad as I chose (I opted not) was not much for flash, but enough for sustenance. My, I have a tendency to squeeze quite a number of words into one sentence, don’t I? (Rhetorical, darlings.)
Granted, I only had 2 items on the menu(plus a cocktail tonique which is a way of saying carrot, apple, ginger juice in a fancy enough manner that you can charge too much for it) so i can’t speak for the rest, and straight up green salad is pretty hard to mess up at the best of times, but the soup was divine. And they have a lovely assortment of vegan/gluten free/traditional french cuisine that it can appeal to anyone really. And apparently all their ingredients are organic, which is nice. It is certainly reflected in the cost though. As happy as I am to have found it, I certainly won’t (be able to afford to) eat there every day. Special occasions, perhaps. The dessert menu alone dictates I’ll have to make at least one more visit. And from the reviews of the restaurant I’ve just found on Happy Cow, apparently reservations are a good idea. I was fortunate and stumbled in there just after they had reopened in the evening, no one else there yet and they let me eat. As I was leaving I did notice quite a few tables with reserved placards. Must be my rockstar superpowers.
I have no idea if I will ever write another restaurant review on this bloggy whatzit, but a travel blog doesn’t seem as exciting when one is fairly stationary, even if one is in Paris. Feel me? I can’t just get on here and say today I left the house and went to the grocery store, where everything was written in french. (boring.) But if I write
The sun shone down on a hazy afternoon as I made my way through the crowds of shoppers and tourists intermingled in Le Marais, all hoping to capture that elusive essence of haute couture and timeless chic that is Paris. I paused before a crosswalk while a bevy of whirring mopeds and pedaled bicycles flew through an intersection, determined to reach their individual destinations as fast as is possible in a city so full of movement. I suddenly realized there was a certain demand on my system, a pleasant sort of ache that only one kind of sustenance would satisfy. I glanced across the street to see a figure standing tall, but relaxed in a doorway, his dark violet shirt effusing a glow that reached his surprisingly blue eyes. Tendrils of smoke danced into the air from the cigarette which dangled almost carelessly from his lips. His eyes met mine and a smile curled across his face, while a hand raised to brush the one dark tendril of hair that had fallen across his forehead. Yes, he was saying, he knew exactly what I needed. I nodded, breathless with anticipation and crossed the street in a daze, oblivious to the traffic that raced around me. He gestured to me, indicating wherever I wanted to go was okay with him. I found a comfortable place and waved him over. He came to me instantly, ready to service my every desire.
I had the soup and the salad.
See, restaurant reviews can be somewhat interesting. He was wearing a violet colored shirt by the way, but I never noticed the color of his eyes. Just sayin…
Leave A Comment