How L’Escargot Montorgrueil changed my life.
In spring 2019, I was blessed to travel. I hopped a plane and landed in Paris, France with a duffel bag, passport, and a desire for adventure. I was meeting my son and his wife for a quick few days in France before we headed off to their home base in Germany. We had an AirBnB, an adventurous spirit, and time. No real plans. Well, not the traditional plans… my list did not involve seeing the Eiffle tower or the Louver. My list was more self-serving… I wanted to eat at the oldest bakery in Paris, and try pig trotter at a hundred-year-old restaurant.
L’Escargot Montorgueil was not on my list, but now I wish I had gone thrice, twice wouldn't have been enough. We passed it on the way to breakfast and already the smell of garlic was intoxicating. I am a fan of escargot and escargot in Paris was definitely on the list. Somehow I had missed this restaurant during my research, but with the olfactory sensation just walking buy, in the morning, I made a mental note to return for dinner.
We had breakfast at Stohrer est in 1725. As one would expect it was unbelievable. The mere idea of bread from a bakery that has been in operation for nearly 300 years tickled me. I bit into a plain french croissant, but there was not much typical about it. Layers of flaky crisp magic, with a buttery layered center. The croissant was still warm, with a rich taste of the butter, the layers literally exploded in my mouth. I was covered in crispy bits.
The afternoon was spend wandering. We walked and nibbled and explored. My favorite adventures were not typical. Looking through photographs, the things I enjoy most are the off beaten path. Pictures of a makeshift memorial near the bridge where Princess Di met her fate, a picturesque shot of the Eiffel tower from the distance, the Lourve .. and gargoyles from the boat ride along the Seine River.
We enjoyed the Salvador Dali museum at the top of the hill, chatted and haggled with the artists, and send a little love nod out to the lovers where they leave lockets. It was a beautiful day in Europe.
The day was full, and quite an experience just taking in the culture. But the night was coming and we were getting hungry. I was starting to think about that waft of garlic from hours before at this point. We had gone quite a few miles away from our Airbnb). Even in Paris, we summoned an Uber and made our way back to Montrgruiel for dinner.
We had made reservations in the afternoon at L’Escargot Montorgueil est. 1832 . It was a busy place and I'm glad we didn't have to wait once we arrived. The decor was quaint. I love the white twinkling lights against the dark awning and rich colors of the curtains. Snails adorned everything, even the carpet pattern. We were lead up a small circular staircase to a dining room with several full tables.
I have always been an overly adventurous eater, and I am grateful it seems my adult son has inherited that trait. The anticipation of an amazing meal in Paris France, with my son and his wife who appreciate food was a gift in and of itself. However, the experience at this restaurant was going to be the one meal that changed my life. I love food, but now I love French food.
The menu is not very complicated, simple is sometimes best, especially if everything is done well. Disregarding the cost, we ordered what our hearts desired. Sparkling water, a nice bottle of wine, two appetizers, and a meal meant to be shared with bread.
More Details?
Delectable escargot, homemade foie gras, and a lamb shoulder I still dream about.
I am no stranger to snails, I even ordered them as a kid. They were as expected, pleasantly drenched in garlic and butter. We enjoyed the interactive experience of using the tongs to gently and as gracefully as possible, pluck them free from their shells. I personally was a little disappointed when my tray was empty but there was so much more was to come.
This was my first goose liver pate. (Yes, this California Girl put her ethics aside in the name of Parisian delicacy) The housemade foie gras was beautiful. It tastes like earthy butter with, smooth mouthfeel, with a richness, the tiny ring of gelatin between the fat and the pate, broke up the heaviness and was reminiscent of savory jelly as we slathered it on a crusty piece of french bread. I could have been happy to stop there, however, a lamb shoulder was being brought to the table.
Sensory memory is a funny thing, maybe it was the state of bliss I was already experiencing or the wine, the escargot, and the foie gras but the lamb was out of this world. The meat itself was mild and pleasant, not gamey. The juices that pooled at the bottom of the plate is really what I fell in love with.
Demi-glace. Where have you been all my life? It is a deep rich elegant flavor like nothing I had tasted. In the middle of the historic Las Halles in Paris, the three of us quietly ate, there were no words and not enough bread. A sip of red wine, a bite of lamb shoulder, and hope that we each could dip our bread once more time into the magic on the plate. We politely fought each other to dip our bits of the bread crust to sop up that last drop.
When clearing the table the waiter replied to our empty plate that we must have enjoyed it, It was a pricey item, and he said he had trouble sometimes convincing patrons to try it as if it was a tourist trap. In an odd way, it kind of was, as I fell in love that night with the history, depth, with a new definition and appreciation of umami. Every meal eaten should be as memorable as this one.
I passed back through Paris weeks later on my way back to the states. But after three weeks of fun, eating, and adventuring I was exhausted and didn't make it back to Montrgruiel before I left. This year has been shelved for obvious reasons. But you can bet when I return, it will be the first place I eat.
I wonder how their frog legs are?
