Benoît

Ever since Alain Ducasse purchased the famed Benoît, the restaurant has become a bit controversial. Is it as good as it was when it was still in the Petit family? Does the food still meet the same exacting standards? Are the waiters still as nice? I personally can’t enter the fray because I never ate there in its pre-Ducasse days, but I am willing to say that if you’re looking for good cassoulet then Benoît shouldn’t disappoint. Further, Ducasse kept the restaurant’s menu and décor intact.

First off, rumor has it that Frenchmen get treated better than foreigners, who they assume to all be tourists. So, I suggest that when making your reservation, you should either use your best-sounding French or get a French native to make the call for you. Then when you speak to the host, again use your best French and try your best to act French. Otherwise, you may be seated in a room that appears to be specifically dedicated to loud American tourists wearing New Balance sensible walking shoes. My husband, who speaks better French than I, made the reservations and requested the front room and we were very happy we got away with it. At one moment during our dinner, I had to make my way through the back room to get to the powder room and was astonished at the different atmosphere. I imagine this may also result in different treatment by the waiters and hence the recent bad reviews.

Benoît has been around since 1912 and is the only bistro in Paris (and the only resto in the 4^th) to have a Michelin macaron. The front room is small with wooden and glass dividers that personalize your experience. I sat on a red velvet banquette in a corner of the front room. Some people call Benoît a museum of a restaurant—the décor is a mixture of etched glass, lace curtains, red velvet benches, brass accents and warmly painted walls. But at the same time, it’s like being at home—there are the day’s newspapers for you to read and there is a comfortableness about the dining room. It’s not uptight and pretentious.

The food is traditional French with an emphasis on the cassoulet. The cassoulet, a Southwestern pot of white beans, meats and sausages, is Benoît’s most famous dish. I ordered the cassoulet and Andy ordered the salmon, which he reports was very good. I noticed that the waiter (who was very nice) brought out a rather large pot of cassoulet. There is no way all of this food can be for me, I remember thinking. That must be tonight’s cassoulet and they bring it out to serve you at your table as part of some tradition. He served me roughly a third of the cassoulet and then took the pot back to the kitchen. Phew. I was worried I was going to have to eat the entire pot or else they wouldn’t serve me dessert!

When I was done with my cassoulet, which met all expectations of being the best in Paris, the waiter glanced over at my empty plate and hurried back into the kitchen. He returned to the dining room with that same pot of cassoulet and gave me another plateful without even asking. It was then that I realized this was my very own personal pot of cassoulet, putting to shame the portions of every other restaurant in town. Are we in Toulouse? Is this why they keep their macaron? Bribing the critic with portions large enough to feed the Michelin Man? Then the waiter did something I’ve never seen before. He turned to my husband and said I notice you’ve finished your dinner, would you like the rest of your woman’s cassoulet? (I will always find amusing the use of the word femme to refer to one’s wife). Of course! And the waiter put the pot on the table and brought Andy a clean plate. So that pot fed us both and fed us well. This is what I mean when I say the waiters are still nice, though I also have a hunch that this sort of treatment might not be happening back in the salle Américain.

It is no wonder that Benoît has kept its macaron even after changing hands. It’s a little expensive, but far from the worst in Paris; I doubt that you’ll spend more than 200 euros for a dinner for two. Benoît is a perfect date restaurant. It has all those little things that matter in a nice restaurant—white linens, extensive wine list, fine china, pretty women’s powder rooms, etc.

And an interesting piece of trivia for you: after Ducasse bought Benoît, he opened a French bistro in Tokyo called Benoît, meant to be a sort of sister restaurant (but with a different menu). This Japanese version was recently awarded its first macaron, which will appear in the 2008 guide.

Benoît is just off the rue Rivoli shopping area, on a small square at 20 rue St. Martin in the 4^th. You definitely need a reservation; call 01 42 72 25 76.