We decided upon l'Osteria - a hole-in-the-wall Italian bistro in the Marais that is known for its alleged "best gnocchi in Paris." The restaurant had no sign or street number - just a small stand outside with a menu reading its name in fine print. If I hadn't searched for a picture of the storefront online before arriving, it's likely I wouldn't have been able to find it. This place was absolutely adorable and très romantic -- a tiny restaurant with about 8 simple wooden tables, paintings of seafood on one wall and antique photographs of Italy on the other. The menu was printed first in Italian, then in French, and the one Italian waiter also happened to own the place. My friends and I were the only Americans in the restaurant, indicating that l'Osteria is still a well-kept secret.
J'avais faim. Beaucoup de faim. And the menu was making my stomach growl by the second - everything sounded fit for a queen. Kelly and I wanted to split the black truffle gnocchi and the mushroom risotto for our entrées; much to our initial dismay, the risotto was only prepared for two. What was a foodie to do in this situation? The answer was clear -- split the gnocchi to start, and order our own risotto after. Too much food? No such thing.
What you're looking at was quite possibly the most heavenly dish to ever grace my tongue. Sometimes with gnocchi, it takes a few seconds to get past the outer pasta before reaching the potato inside. After this meal, I realized that technique is amateur. The "outer pasta," if there was any, practically melted in my mouth, allowing the potato to collide with the black truffle chips and truffle sauce into gnocchi goodness. I am literally overcome with emotion when I think about this dish. Needless to say, these lovely lumps were gone in sixty seconds.
After eating the gnocchi, I knew my entrée couldn't come close. And I was right -- the mushroom risotto was very good, but it would've had to have received a 20 out of 10 to beat what preceded it. I must say, I preferred the risotto to the mushrooms themselves - they were a bit flavorless and drowned in the risotto cream, which you'll notice is quite heavy in the picture. It certainly would have been more climactic to start with the risotto, but we live and we learn.
At this point in the meal, I was stuffed, but I wasn't about to let that stop me from asking for a dessert menu. Turns out, there was no formal menu, but the chef, who had stepped in at the end of the meal because the owner had left (we basically closed the place), recited the four desserts that were offered. We decided on the panna cotta, an Italian dish consisting of a mixture of cream, milk, sugar, and gelatin. Believe me, it tasted better than it sounds, especially with the raspberry and butterscotch reduction. Crème brulée is really the only dessert I can think of that even slightly resembles panna cotta, albeit only the creaminess aspect (for those of you having trouble imagining how the dessert would taste). Come to think of it, this was a rather creamy meal altogether. Remind me to come back here for another fabulous evening when I'm old and losing my teeth.
The next dessert was on the house, complements of our Egyptian/Italian chef (Egyptian ethnicity, Italian cuisine). We were served tiramisu, but not like I've ever had it before. The fluffiness of tiramisu is usually consistent throughout, but at l'Osteria, the tiramisu had more of a tart or jelly consistency with a thick powder on top. I remember Caroline making me laugh while eating it, and I coughed up the powder, which made quite the mess. Although it was extremely rich, I found the contrast between dry and damp refreshing.
Our meal would have been perfect, if not for a slight altercation toward the end. During several moments of our dinner, a noticeably inebriated Lebanese man found it appropriate to sit at our table and ask us penetrating questions. We brushed it off until we were leaving the restaurant, when I was asked by the man if he could "give me his card," in hopes that our one-ended conversation would turn into something more. When I politely replied that I had a boyfriend, he answered that he didn't care, and then pointed out to me his wife, who had been sitting at the table with him the entire night. She smiled and waved, as if somehow this was at all socially acceptable.
I will never forget my evening at l'Osteria, the Lebanese polygamist, the Egyptian chef to whom I gave my blog address (I hope he's reading this right now), or the "dank" black truffle gnocchi, to borrow a term. Our meal was quite satisfying (the best gnocchi in Paris, indeed), and I'm confident I will return to l'Osteria upon my next visit to Paris. You should, too, especially if you're looking for some Lebanese loving...
Dine at l'Osteria:
10 Rue de Sévigné
75004 Paris
+33 1 42 71 37 08
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