Would you look at that beast. That’s a turkey breast pounded thin, lined with a layer of ham from the Prince of Paris, aka the only producer of Paris ham still producing the delicacy in Paris (I visited him when attempting to create the perfect croque monsieur), stuffed with a softball-sized portion of grated Comté cheese. Rolled in breadcrumbs and fried to perfection, it puts most iterations of the cordon bleu, classic French school cafeteria food, to shame.
I had visited le Bistrot des Tournelles once before, while filming recipes with Milk Street this summer. But I’d never actually eaten here, save the cold bite of cordon bleu I snagged once the beauty shots were taken. And honestly, the frigid late November temperatures are far more in-line with this sort of food, served up in a diminutive dining room just off the Place des Vosges in the Marais.
The pleasantly short menu features a handful of seasonal appetizers, like perfectly seasoned pleurottes with parsley and garlic.
The omnipresent oeufs-mayo is here served with truffle shavings, which earns it, perhaps, its 20-euro pricetag. I would have been just as happy with these eggs sans truffe: The yolk was perfectly cooked, the mayonnaise bright and light on the mustard.
This tumble of artichokes and pears offered a lovely balance of sweet, savory, nutty, and a hint of acid from vinegar. The generous serving of hazelnuts, my dining companion noted, had been slowly roasted until they were toasted inside and out, and the snowfall of Parmigiano-Reggiano added a lovely richness to the dish.
This is the place to go for hearty, rich fare like daube à la provençale, a Southern French answer to beef stew braised with generous chunks of carrots, garlic, herbs, and olives. The beef was so tender you could eat it with a spoon, and the mashed potatoes were luxuriously silky and redolent with butter.
The cordon bleu – and most of the mains – can be served with either that still-same purée, French fries, or sautéed spinach.
I opted for the latter, though I was allowed to sneak a bite of potato.
The sheer size of this cordon bleu makes it a feat for only the most devout of cheese fans, of which you know I am. When it’s hot out of the pan, the breadcrumb coating is perfectly crispy, and that cheese just melts into molten goo. If you’re not quick, however, the delicious jus softens it somewhat, and the cheese begins to congeal.
So eat quickly! Especially if you’re seated, as we were, during the first service, which, while perfectly pleasant, unfortunately can feel a bit rushed by French standards. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially if you’re used to American meal pacing: The servers do not partake in that oh-so-French habit of looking straight through you when you need them, so it’s fairly easy to get more water, more bread, or the check. But for someone used to more leisurely service, it can be a bit jarring. Luckily, none of us have a sweet tooth: By the time we would have been ready to order dessert, our table was needed for another group, so we threw back the last dregs of our wine and stepped out into the chilly evening to walk off all that cheese.
Bistrot des Tournelles – 6 Rue des Tournelles, 75004