The French Desperately Need A Martini Bar

check out latest photos here

Or a supper club, even.

The problem: American Beef Lust.

After the fish, guinea fowl, duck, foie gras, fromage (that's cheese if you're from Wisconsin) confitures, wine, and cidre, we needed a break.

We went out to a tapas bar last night. We figured the Spanish might be an interesting break. It was a kind of a break, but more like an interruption.

The martini as an aperitif.

Maintaining the steak dinner theme, I ordered a vodka martini avec (that's 'with') deux (that's two) olives (that's olives, I guess).

Following a confused few moments where the waiter and I exchanged the following: "(Waiter) Martini? (Bill) Oui, martini, monsieur. Avec deux olives. (Waiter) Olives? (Bill) Oui, deux olives, sil vous plait. (Waiter raises eyebrows. Bill looks him in the eye, raises his eyebrows. Bill nods firmly.) (Bill) Monsieur... (Waiter, obsequiously, and in broken English) Ah, oui, monsieur, I have it. Martini."

The waiter did not have it.

The waiter had something that contained, I assumed, no vodka. I know that vodka technically has no taste. And there was nothing to taste, so it could have been vodka. But whatever it was resembled more straight vermouth than vodka. Except I know what vermouth tastes like, and this wasn't it.

I drank half out of sheer duty, and left the rest. The olives were olives, but sadly, strangely spiced greek olives, not the lovely salty spanish olives with pimiento in the classic American Martini. Our friend Lisa later informed me: "Oh yes. Never order a martini in France. It's nothing like the American Martini."

The boeuf entre-cote as not a steak.

Two things to remember:

Nothing like a porterhouse or t-bone exists in France. Try as you might.

It may well be worth studying ahead of time the proper French phrases for "medium" and "medium rare" and "well-done". I'll have to do that when I get home, for next time. I ordered medium-rare and Carrie ordered medium. Both came on the moo-side of medium-rare.

A personal solution.

I thought about asking the bartender to allow me to demonstrate for him the proper method of constructing a true martini. Didn't think he'd like that, so I refrained.

A business solution.

You could make a killing here serving up porterhouses and real gin or vodka martinis for ex-pats and English businessmen. Even if it's a secret club that meets weekly in your personal dining room. Or by opening a high-class maritini bar, which actually goes with the essence of French style to begin with. Hmmm.

Something to consider. Perhaps, since we name American restaurants things like "Les Jardines" or "Chez Panisse", we should name the steakhouse "The Back 40" or something nice and farmy. Like Ponderosa. Have to run that past marketing...

We ended our evening out with what the French are really good at. A lovely walk in a light rain, nudging playfully under a small umbrella, circling past a lovely public fountain in the Avenue du Madrid that spouted cascades of shimmering water, dodging a scooter or two to arrive, slightly misty, back at our room. Fog, sweet pillows and warm skin.