A Mystery Within a Mystery
Maybe you remember. A while back I received a manuscript from a retired private eye who had stumbled upon the mystery of how French cows manage to stay spotlessly white. I didn't hear from him for a few weeks; then another manuscript came in the mail. As you will see, there's a mystery within the mystery.
Dear Mr. Kramer: Once again I'm taking the liberty of passing on to you an inadvertent - and perhaps quite dangerous - discovery. It may be prudent for me to move again; so you won't find a return address on the envelope. (I'll try contacting you later to set up a dead drop for future communications.) On a recent Friday evening, I invited a charming American visitor to join me for a walk and dinner. I chose the delightful 18th century Palais Royale, behind the Comedie Francaise, off Avenue de l'Opera and two blocks from the Louvre. There's a perfectly geometric parc a la francaise framed by an 18th century arcade, some unusual shops (military decorations from all over the world, collections of lead soldiers in full regalia, etc.). In addition, there was a sculpture floating on a pond. Could it be metal balls?
How the French love their "public" art. Sometimes, it's a mystery, but Paris is filled with them. There were a couple of restaurants too, but I hardly hoped to get a table sans reservation. Not on a warm spring evening, in such a great location. As we strolled past one restaurant, La Gaudriole, I noticed it was elegantly decorated. The carte posted near the door (French law requires it) featured a three-course prix fixe menu for just 200FF including wine, tax and tip. A bigger surprise: the place was nearly empty at 8:30 pm - prime time for dinner.
The few people there seemed deep in French conversation, leaning towards one another across the small tables. We walked in. The other clients abruptly stopped talking. Some made a show of peering at the dramatic green drapery wallpaper. This old gumshoe also noticed there was no food on the tables. Wine yes, cigarette-filled ashtrays, yes. Food no. A well-fed gentleman, obviously the owner, seemed surprised to see us. He led us to a good table and then disappeared.
A few minutes later, a pretty young thing showed up, took our order, and opened the two free-with-dinner half bottles of wine (a decent white and a better red, both from the Southwest region of France). The food bordered on the superb. I had a hearty salad of lentils and smoked pork (replacing viande de Grisons - air dried beef - that was chased off menus by the vache folle scare). I then had a generous slice of sea bass poached to moist perfection, with buttery mashed potatoes and baby carrots. My dining companion commented that her meal was sublime also. Desserts were of comparable quality.
All this for less than $30 per person, including tip, wine and tax! And close to theaters, museums and upscale shops. Pourquoi so empty of diners, on a lovely Friday night? Perhaps it was new in town? No, the owner assured us, he's been there for nearly 25 years. New chef? No, he had been there almost as long. Once again, my detective's curiosity was piqued. Just as I had solved the riddle of the clean white cowsI wanted to get to the bottom of this. So I marshaled my facts: great food, low price, terrific decor, fine location� and virtually empty. Clearly there was some other fact I had missed, something that tied it all together. Then I understood. Of course! The answer was��
That ended the first page of the letter. The second page was missing. So no solution to the puzzle. As he had said right at the start of the letter, he was afraid to give me his address, so I had no way to reach him. I waited a couple of days, hoping to hear from him. Nothing. So I decided to publish his incomplete letter, just as I received it. Maybe one of Bonjour Paris' readers will provide the answer. Please� what could the missing fact be?
La Gaudriole
30 rue Montpensier (Palais Royale)
75001, Paris
Tel: 01 42 97 55 49
Fax: 01 42 97 50 46
Intimate restaurant, fine food, great value:
In season, outdoor tables facing a quiet park.
Copyright � 2001, Paris New Media, LLC
