dinner at Passage 53, Paris

Some of the passages in Paris are lovely jewel boxes of exquisite merchandise, some are a mixed bag of the trendy and the tacky, and the portion of the Passage des Panoramas in which Passage 53 is found holds a few quirky little shops and a collection of tiny restaurants, of which the 53 is the star. Like all stars, this one makes its own rules.

The restaurant is tiny, white and cream, reverent in feeling without being gothic. If it's 16 feet wide, that's a lot. To my thinking, the prohibition on indoor smoking is what makes it possible for places like this to survive. No merry closing dinners, no bus tours, no shouting drinkers comparing exchange rates! thank you, juddering Euro.

We sat back and smiled while staff explained that there's one menu, many courses, tiny to small portions. OK, I'm in. After a glass of champagne, some tiny drinky nibbles, and a small cup of creamy pumpkin velouté that actually tasted like pumpkin but also tasted good (the expresso foam on top helped, I'm sure), things got serious: a single perfect oyster on very light smoked haddock mousseline, airy almond foam topped with caviar. Would I have thought of this? No. Did I love it? Mmm-hmm.

Up next: a seared sea scallop, a flavorful beurre blanc, slices of deep-fried baby artichoke, and me suddenly realizing that all these courses, all this food, were prepared upstairs and carried down a charming elderly iron circular staircase on trays that looked wider across than the diameter of the staircase. Dirty dishes disappear into the back of the restaurant where they are dealt with - you see nothing going upstairs. We learned later that the staircase dates back to 1798, and is classified as a historical monument!

Then what everyone calls "the white course:" tiny seared calamari on a bed of almond and cauliflower cream with seared baby calamari and shaved flakes of raw cauliflower. It's subtle, in fact, I've heard that some people haven't been able to taste anything of this dish, but we loved it. These may have been the best calamari of a lifetime, including those served by friends of ours in New Jersey. Another fish course: a small filet of baby cod in a frothy broth with radishes.

OK, here's where my notes start to get blurry and the order of things gets a little scrambled - did I forget to say there was a lot of lovely wine on the table as well? again, the foie gras of a lifetime, cold but not too cold, served with a touch of quince coulis, like eating silk; two meat courses: a seriously excellent breast of pigeon, cooked sous vide and now I think this is how pigeon should be cooked forever, because it was done to a ("rosée") turn but still tender. Then noisettes of venison - look, I'm running out of adjectives, how many times can I say "perfect" and "excellent?" Right, I could say "sublime", and I will. Remember, late October is game season in France, one of the reasons we chose this time to go.

Desserts - yes, that's a plural. I was immobilized. My best love was a "deconstructed" Mont Blanc, airy chestnut mousse with a touch of - cinnamon? ginger? too subtle, plus chunks of meringue, served in a verrine (double old-fashioned glass).


I'm sure that wasn't me making slurpy noises, the place is not so small that you hear what's being said at other tables but we all know how the sound of slurps travels. I'm sure I've left out some of the small stuff like palate cleansers, refreshers and pre- and post desserts.