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I’ve
been taking a breather writing about American-oriented businesses in
Paris. Not because I don’t like them, but because there were so many
of them that it was hard to keep up, and they were no longer a novelty.
And while the hamburger craze was fun when it was just one lone (and
very good) food truck, when the Paris café at the last annual Agriculture
Fair featured burgers
as the food to represent their city to an international audience, well,
it’s become a but trop.
Even the swanky La Grande Épicerie is featuring le Brooklyn
this fall, with mustaches, bonnets, and tattoos. The upside is that I can
wear a hoodie and sneakers around Paris now – I fit right in!
Another
subject I skirt these days is barbecue. There are so many
styles and opinions out there, that as much as it’s nice that everyone is
proud of the style of bbq in their state or region, I’m
less-interesting in the debate over who is doing what, and how, rather
than what is on the plate – or in the case of barbecue, on the paper
or tray. (Someone took me task once because I mentioned a barbecue
that I went to in Texas and said that they had sauce. It seemed like
a big deal to discuss that they didn’t
have sauce, when in fact, they did. A picture that I took there was
of a local dipping their barbecue in sauce served at said address.
After sharing that, I never heard back, but I can’t see the point of
getting yourself in a tizzy about a small puddle of liquid. I’m
just happy when people are making good food. )
Thomas
Abramowicz opened The Beast
a year ago in Paris. I didn’t go because people told me it was crowded,
and others said the meat was excellent but the sides were less
compelling. I also think that if a restaurant is good, I don’t need to be
the first one there. I can wait 6 months and if it’s good, it’ll still be
there. (Although in some cases, by the time word gets out in Paris, it’s
tough to get a reservation.) I also dislike being jostled when I eat and
realize crowding is a necessary evil when a restaurant is “hot.”
  But
last night I went out with a friend in Paris and the rotating people on
the stool at the communal table next to me kept pushing me out of their
way, so my leg was constantly being jammed into the leg of the
table. I finally said something about it, but it didn’t seem to bother them.
So I tend to not to go to places where I’m going to be trapped in a
throng of people.
However
when my friend and barbecue expert Elizabeth
Karmel was in town, I thought it’d be fun to finally attack The Beast.
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