Our lunch break was commenced by a proclamation to eat somewhere off of the beaten path (especially as so many of the restaurants in the vicinity of the Notre Dame seem so touristy - i.e. a lot of english being spoken by American and British tourists). So, after meandering our way through the streets just south of the Seine / Notre Dame, we settled on a nice little cafe on the corner of two fairly busy streets.
Everyone seemed to be French and thus we were fairly happy right off of the bat. Adding to this was the relaxed atmosphere of the place. We sat in a table right on the edge of the patio and got the best of both worlds; the breeze and natural sunlight of being outside; while preserving some shade for myself and my bald dome (which had absorbed plenty of UV rays already and we were only two days in).
About 30 minutes into our sit down, it was finally time to order. Christina asked me what I was going to get. I indicated that the 'Steak Tartare' looked really good and Christina noted that she was thinking the same thing. Note to self, it is always good as a couple to order separate entrees. Disregarding this advice, we ordered the aforementioned delicacy (hint, hint).
Probably about forty five minutes later (yes, this place highly respected the time-honored French tradition of not rushing lunch), I saw our waitress appear with two plates that appeared to contain piles of raw meat. At this moment, in my head I was saying 'Oh sh*#, please don't let that be ours'. A quick glance around the restaurant confirmed that all other customers already received their meals... I think the best description for what was placed in front of me is going to the grocery store, purchasing a package of ground sirloin, opening it up and turning it over on to a plate. I immediately began to wonder if this was some sort of joke amongst the restaurant staff that they enjoy playing on Americans. Nonetheless, we soldiered through the meal thanks to the assistance of a large quantity of dijon mustard mixed with onions placed on the table alongside the seemingly just slaughtered beef. Note, however, mustard does not cook raw beef.
Admittedly, I'm a headcase. So, I spent the next couple of hours/days convincing myself that eating the beef did not represent the ceremonial ignition of a wick of e-coli dynamite in my stomach. Christina handled it much better than I. While we shared numerous laughs throughout, she ate more than I did and never hinted at having even a remotely similar fear as I did that the hands of the doomsday clock of my stomach were moved to midnight upon completion of the meal. Thank you, Christina, for keeping me calm. Without you, I may have finished the meal (or maybe I wouldn't have even been brave enough to take a bite), paid the bill, and ran to the bathroom (further explanation not considered necessary).
Seeing as that our server took a few smoke breaks, disappeared numerous times, and was generally pretty lax, we were at the cafe for about three hours. Upon settling the bill, we had to make our way back to the hotel for a quick break before meeting up with Jenn! More to follow!
Me: Louis, try the dijon sauce. It makes it taste much better.
ReplyDeleteLouis: Does it cook it?
Haha, did it taste like raw meat?!
ReplyDeleteI'm impressed that you guys were able to wait it out before getting your steak tartare, espeically since the hunger pangs started at Notre Dame!