With so many restaurants in Paris, it was hard to choose. Fortunately, the Michelin Guide’s Bib Gourmand came to the rescue. On the other side of the Seine (aka, la Rive Gauche), and a two-kilometre walk from Aleau, sits Baca’v. The name is a combination of ‘baca,’ the slang word in the Limousin region of France for ‘to eat’ – and ‘cave,’ the wine cellar.
We had reservations – of course. The woman ahead of us said she had, too. But her name wasn’t in the book and there were no tables left. So she left – slamming the door behind her. Valentine’s Day was not happy for her.
For us, Valentine’s Day was wonderful. We each started with a glass of Champagne.
Jeannie chose ‘Velouté de Potimarron’ – pumpkin/chestnut soup – as her entrée.
I chose what could have been a delicious breakfast as my entrée – sliced truffle over a bed of perfectly scrambled eggs – ‘Brouillarde de Truffes.’
Then it was time for the main course, the ‘plats.’
For Jeannie, it was ‘Filet de Bar’ – sea bass.
I chose ‘Joue de Boeuf.’ Melt-in-your-mouth beef cheeks.
Jeannie decided to pass on dessert – something I could never do.
For me, it was ‘Flognarde Limousine.’ (Limousine is a region in south-central France known for Limoges porcelain and Limousine cattle.) ‘Flognarde’ is basically ‘Clafoutis’ but made with apples instead of cherries. Not so at Baca’v. This was unique.
Those sticks are apple – with the green peel left on. The balls are also apple, obviously from a red apple. The cubes in the custard are also apple. Yes, I did share. Sparingly.
Valentine’s Day was Tuesday. I walked by Baca’v on Saturday night to see if I could get some better exterior shots. Better was not what I got.
In North America, no restaurant would dare close on a Saturday night – the busiest and most profitable night of the week. But it happens in France. One of our favourites, Le Quincy (See Chapter 185.) is also closed on Saturday. We have learned during our time in France that life is different here. Money is far less important here than on the other side of the Atlantic. It is said that in North America, people live to work. For many people, work defines who they are. In France, the opposite is true – generally, people work to live. What they do outside of work is what defines who they are. Which is why some restaurants choose to be closed on the most lucrative night of the week. Being home with family and friends is more important.