Convivial.org: Mon Vieil Ami on Paris' I'Ile Saint Louis: Poshly Minimalistic & Stalker-free

Strolling around the 4th arrondissement on a beautiful, crisp autumn day, I inadvertently picked up my very first stalker. I know -- big day! It began innocently enough -- the sun, finally broke through the relentless rain clouds, highlighting the golden leaves fluttering to the pavement, children were playing in that park just off Quai de l’Hotel de Ville, I discovered adorable little shops off-the-beaten-path, and freely tested my accent with the locals. Maybe I just “Bonjour”ed one too many times, because right around this antique shop, I swear I ran into the same gentleman that was sitting on the street bench a few blocks back. Refusing to believe the “you all look the same to me” stereotype, I dismissed it as deja vu. Besides, I was much more interested in breathing in the culture and capturing everything on film.

Getting close to my lunch reservation time, I picked up the pace over the Pont Louis Philippe bridge to the charming, old-world island, Saint Louis, and turned down its lively, narrow, shop-lined street, Rue Saint-Louis. Could it be him again? Bench Guy? Yes... and twice more. I’m really not paranoid, but I did wonder if Hitchcock and a flock of birds were just up ahead. There he was again, across the alley, staring at me while walking in the same direction, just a few paces behind. At this point, I pulled out my map to ascertain my whereabouts and check out the landmarks. I looked up and he was right in my face. He was, most likely, perfectly harmless, but the fifth brush with “Bench Guy” sufficiently freaked me out enough to grab my cellphone and call my lunch destination, Mon Vieil Ami (translation: “My Old Friend” -- yes, I’m aware of the irony) for its exact location. Adrien, the host, calmly guided me another three doors southeast to a modern, unobtrusive little neo-bistro. I really wanted to ask him to have a glass of wine waiting at the table, but my French just wasn’t that good. Zut!

Stalker Day (as it is now dubbed) could have definitely influenced my impression of Mon Vieil Ami, but I don’t think so. Browsing through the photos, it’s as calming and elegant as I remember. This well-designed neo-bistro is meticulously done in rich earth tones and highly contrasting textures: plush velvet drapes, rough wall treatments, grained parchment placemats and a simple white demi-tasse of coarse sea salt on polished, black wood tables with leather-padded chairs. Showcased in the center of the dining room stands a stunning, elevated glass vase of artistically arranged fresh flowers, which are replaced almost daily using a very tall ladder and a very steady hand. Mon Vieil Ami is simple but luxurious -- poshly minimalistic. And the food is just as artistic -- a balanced composition of color, texture, flavor and presentation.

Lunch began with a gorgeous salad of Joel Thiebault beets and micro-greens tossed in herbed-citron vinaigrette, with a thin fillet of fried sea bream & remoulade nestled inside. The dish featured every variety of beet imaginable: blood red, marigold, striped Chioggias, some were raw and thinly sliced, others roasted, wedged, tiny & whole, steamed, and/or cubed. The fish was room temperature, which, even my stalker probably knows, enhances the flavor and mouthfeel considerably. The remoulade was cool, creamy and sharp, and the citron vinaigrette was fresh and vibrant. Every component brought an entirely different element to the dish, some completely opposite, but each worked together so well, if any were omitted, this salad wouldn’t have been nearly as divine. It was a prime example of “the whole being greater than the sum of its parts.” Brilliant.

Next came crispy-skinned halibut, braised endives, hazelnuts, light cream sauce, and garnished with raw endive slices tossed in a simple lime vinaigrette. It was lovely, as you can well imagine. Endives two ways, hazelnuts and lime -- who’d a thunk it?

One more very noteworthy praise about Mon Vieil Ami: every dish that left the kitchen, no matter which table it ended up, was intensely fragrant and beautiful, and admired by the other diners. Dining at Mon Vieil Ami is an absolute pleasure for all the senses. Luxuriant on the inside and inconspicuous on the outside, it turned out to be the perfect place to escape and commemorate my very first stalker.