Category: booze or lose
Booze or lose: l’Expérimental Cocktail Club
l’Expérimental Cocktail Club
37 rue St.-Sauveur, 75002 Paris
Métro: Sentier
Paris has been decidedly slow to embrace the cocktail-frenzy that has overtaken many other cities. As far as I can tell, people are still far more likely to drink wine and beer when they are out for the evening. To be honest, I’ve got mixed feelings about elaborate mixed drinks, despite their ubiquity in places like Los Angeles, New York, and Berlin. A big part of this stems from my genuine mortification at the idea of spending more than ten bucks on a single drink. I’m also not a huge fan of super-sweet drinks, and I often find that designer cocktails tend towards the sugary side of things.
Nevertheless, I started researching cocktail bars in Paris when S began bemoaning the dearth of such places to me recently. He tried to take his girlfriend out for a Manhattan before the opera and ended up having an overpriced and disappointing experience. Some poking around on the internets yielded a lot of chatter about l’Expérimental Cocktail Club. The New York Times Style section, which I read compulsively despite regularly thinking I would be better off just smacking my face into the wall, love love loves this place, so a few of us decided to check it out last night. It does feel much more like a New York bar than a Paris one. There’s only a small plaque on the outside of the building to let you know you are in the right place and you have to go through a heavy velvet curtain and past a no-fucking-around doorman to get in. We didn’t have any problem on that front, though there was quite the line at the door when we left after midnight.
L’Expérimental is an intimate space, with probably only the capacity to serve about fifty people. It was packed to the gills last night, and we found ourselves awkwardly propped against a piano that was doubling as a DJ booth. We just missed snagging one of the large black leather couches, what with our being properly socialized and recognizing that it is in bad taste to sit down before you order your drinks and all. Goddamn Yuppies. The décor is really lovely with rough wood beams on the ceiling and old brickwork juxtaposed with Sander Mulder’s gorgeous Therese plexiglass chandeliers and a long zinc bar. The music was pretty standard fare for as supposedly cutting-edge as this place tries to be. Are we sure that Lykke Li should still be in heavy rotation at a bar that Quentin Tarantino supposedly frequents? I’m not so sure…
The cocktail menu is very complicated and a highly curated affair. The internets tell me that it is the work of “master mixologist” Xavir Padovani, who shills for Hendrick’s Gin and Monkey Shoulder scotch, both of which play a starring role at l’Experimental (no complains from me on that one). A and I arrived early and our first round consisted of the “Experience #1” (Ketel One vodka, Elderfower cordial, lemongrass, lemon juice and fresh basil) for him and the “Ivresse Brune” (Cognac, ginger cordial, lemon zest, and schmancy ginger beer) for me. His was revelatory, mine was warm. Can I say that I don’t entirely understand the French resistance to ice? It seems to me that anything sparkly and sweet like a ginger beer-based drink should be served icy cold. I understand the desire not to dilute the drink, but isn’t that why these places make those giant ice cubes? And why oh why do I see people drinking warm diet Cokes everywhere in this town? At any rate, my drink consisted of a tall glass of syrupy booze and lemon rind served alongside a warm bottle of ginger beer. While I guess the Cognac and cordial were indeed shaken with ice, when I added the ginger beer the whole thing ended up lukewarm, sticky, and pretty blah. Oh, and there was too much ginger beer for the glass, so then I had this awkward double-fisted thing going on with the treacly bottle. H liked it, however, so maybe I’m just being a jerk. Her first drink was some kind of terrifying concoction of tequila and nutmeg and cream. After sampling it I concluded that it was too smart for me. There seemed to be a collective acknowledgement that A’s “Experience #1” was the cocktail of the hour, and everyone had one of those for their second round, except S, who was finally able to get the proper Manhattan he had been jonesing for.
Details: This is a 15-euro-a-cocktail place and the crowd dresses and acts accordingly. I wasn’t wearing heels, but I wished I had been. I agree with the Style section (and every other internet reviewer) that the “Experience #1” is the drink to order. It’s not my scene per se, but it’s exactly as well-executed as you would expect from the hype and made for a delightful evening out with excellent people.
Photo via qype.fr
Booze or lose: La Belle Hortense
La Belle Hortense
31 rue Vieille du Temple, 75004 Paris
Métro: Hôtel de Ville, St. Paul
One of my oldest friends is spending a month in Paris and oh boy, am I excited to have him here. I haven’t seen A in years because he spends most of his time in war zones working with Médecins Sans Frontières. A million years ago, he and I worked together at an art gallery during a time in our lives when we were both floating (and occasionally flailing) professionally. I was trying to apply to graduate school without the faintest idea about how one would go about doing such a thing. He was trying to figure out what his calling was, cursed as he is by a variety of talents and aptitudes (in addition to being a logistical savant, he is also a talented artist and writer). What that we should all have such problems, yes? He ended up taking the humanitarian route and I don’t want to brag too hard on the guy but let’s just say that he’s kind of a big deal now. He’s also annoyingly modest about his extremely difficult, self-sacrificing, and important work. I’m really proud to know him. Wandering around my neighborhood, we had a couple of shared moments of amazement that somehow we have gone from being the people we were back then to the people we are now, meeting up in Paris. More importantly, after not seeing each other for nearly five years, we immediately fell back into the same banter that we had when we were dewy and just-hatched. Sitting at a bar last night, he said something funny and I felt an overwhelming urge to give him a noogie (I didn’t, but it was hard to curb the impulse). When we went to my bank so I could get some cash, I joked about how I disappointed was that these awful bums that always harass me at my ATM weren’t on duty last night. As I was telling him about how these guys had drunkenly followed me to my laundromat one day and cornered me, A looked defensive and angry, like he would happily punch someone out for giving me a hard time. It made me feel the way I suspect people with older brothers feel all the time. You lucky people with older brothers. Do you just strut around all day in the warm glow of your older brother’s care and protection? No? You should.
We went to this darling bar that I want to tell you about. Maybe I’ll inaugurate a new series of bar reviews today. Yes, it is definitely about time. That’s right, in addition to eating things and going to movies, I also drink a lot! Booze or lose! It rhymes! I suspect that A’s presence in Paris will be especially fruitful for such an endeavor. He arrived with a list of Paris bars that he wanted to try, and, self-sacrificing friend that I am, I begrudgingly agreed to help him in his quest. I’m a giver, really. He said he wouldn’t even mind if I blogged about it. That’s the golden ticket as far as I’m concerned.
Last night I took him to this place that M introduced me to, La Belle Hortense. It’s a wine bar and bookshop in the Marais and man is it cute. It’s got a perfect Parisian zinc bar, dark-wood walls lined with beautiful books, and a back room with seating and an art gallery. In addition to having a large list of set wines, they also have a weekly rotating list of interesting seasonal or small-batch wines that are listed on a chalkboard in the front. Going to La Belle Hortense has been a nice way of exploring some wines that I wouldn’t try otherwise (they did a month of killer rosés when I first arrived in Paris). La Belle Hortense also keeps a steady schedule of author visits, lectures, and readings, available on their website. The crowd is a well-heeled, thirty- to forty-something bunch.
La Belle Hortense is one of the cutest places run by a single corporate conglomerate, Caféine, owned by one Xavier Denamur. Most of the other restaurants and bars on the same block of rue Vieille du Temple as La Belle Hortense are also owned by Caféine, including Les philosophes, Le petit fer à cheval, L’étoile manquante, and La chaise au plafond. Coming from Orange County, the land of homogeneous franchises and chains, I was a little disappointed to discover that what appeared to be a heterogeneous block of fetching restaurants and bars in Paris is actually a well-oiled corporate machine. That said, these places are really well done. Beyond the fact that you get to watch the beautiful bartender from La Belle Hortense scamper across the street to Le petit fer à cheval to pick up your charcuterie plate should you order one at her bar, there is little to suggest that these restaurants are affiliated. While their menus are basically same and they all have overproduced and overindulgently designed bathrooms, they each have a very different overall vibe. La Belle Hortense is certainly my favorite, but the restaurants are certainly worth a visit.
Caféine’s website if you want to poke around, complete with virtual bathroom tours (!):
Better yet, here is the website for Médecins Sans Frontières should you want to donate or read about the organization’s efforts around the world:
The Bear-Garden 