Across the road from the Palais Royal is the Costes’ Café Ruc. A rubber-necking scene during fashion week, due to its proximity to the Carrousel du Louvre, the official show venue, it would be perfect if I wanted to eat mediocre, grossly overpriced food in a fishbowl atmosphere. But I don’t, so often divert to Le Royal, a deeply un-chic traditional brasserie across the road on the rue Saint-Honoré between Place André Malraux and rue de Montpensier (do look her up – now there was a woman with balls for the 17thC), to indulge in their perfect omelette aux girolles.
The omelette is not on the main menu, but it always seems to be on the specials: a disc of lightly cooked beaten egg, still wet on top, with sautéed, salty girolles, all meaty and chewy, & handfuls of chopped parsley strewn across with generous abandonment. Cosying up is its simple petite salade – just feuille de chêne lettuce, a chunk of ripe tomato and a trickle of creamy dressing.
This time I eschewed my usual accompaniment of frites & a glass of red wine (my Eres tank commands that I ease up on the carbs), and just ploughed through the bread basket instead. (1 out of 3 ain’t bad.)
Truly, one of the most delicious things I’ve eaten in Paris, all for the sum of EUR12,80.
(Living in America causes me to crave proper French omelettes, & I eat them for lunch every day that I am in Paris. When not living off Evian & Haribo in the desperate rush between shows, that is. I cannot abide the pallid lumps of congealed scrambled egg, knocked up on hotplates that masquerade as omelettes in the US, even in the plethora of faux French brasseries that pepper Manhattan. Yes, Mr McNally, I’m talking about the abomination you serve in Pastis. Disgusting.)
Brasserie Le Royal, 1 Place André Malraux, 75001 Paris, France