Part 10

That Charles Binda is proprietor is guarantee that the table is equal to the Cambridge in New York, or the Albemarle in London, and these satisfy the most fastidious. Mr. Binda is famous for his _cuisine_, but he prides himself most upon the quality of his guests. He demands that above and beyond everything else his house shall be select, and it is so in the fullest sense. You may meet crowned heads and princes there. Hon. Thomas L. James, one of New York’s honored and honorable citizens, with his charming family, stayed at the Binda while he was in Paris last summer, and I also saw Judge Dittenhoefer, the family of Vice-Consul Hooper, and other well-known Americans in the reading-room. Yes, the Binda is a select family hotel. Address No. 11 rue de l’Echelle.

HOTEL ANGLO-FRANÇAIS.

There are several comparatively small but decidedly pleasant hotels in rue Castiglione--Hotel Liverpool, Hotel Balmoral and Hotel Anglo-Français. The last-named is especially to be commended for its choice location, the comfort and cleanliness of its rooms, its appetizing cuisine, and its remarkably moderate charges. It is in rue Castiglione, directly opposite the Continental; two blocks one way from the Column Vendome, two blocks from the Place de la Concorde, near the Champs Élysées, and only a few hundred feet from the beautiful gardens of the Tuileries.

Like the majority of Paris hotels, the Anglo-Français is entered by a court-yard, but unlike some of them, the ventilation and lighting of the house are good. It has ample room for more than one hundred guests, and they can be made very comfortable.

The house is kept on the American as well as on the European plan. If you adopt the system which prevails abroad, you may hire a single room as low as four francs per day, or a double room from seven francs per day; breakfast, three francs; luncheon, four francs; table d’hôte dinner, six francs. This figure includes good wine in _quantum sufficit_, as a medical man might say. As at nearly all Continental hotels, “service” is charged. In this instance it is one franc per day; and you pay for lights--item seventy-five centimes, about fifteen cents.

But if you wish to be relieved of all this detail and save the bother of reckoning, you can stay at the Anglo-Français, and your whole bill per day for board, lodging, lights, wine, etc., will be the moderate sum of fifteen francs (three dollars), which, considering the appointments of the house, the excellent table and the attention you receive, is an uncommonly low rate.

The proprietor is a gentleman of decidedly pleasant and courteous manners, who, having lived in England for twenty years, is perfectly at home in the English language as well as his native tongue.

If you desire to mix with an ultra-fashionable set, the Bristol is your house; if you want to see and be with Americans only, then select the Grand. The Continental is the place for those who would feast their eyes on palatial salons: at the Anglo-Français you will get into the company of good people from different countries, you can be quiet and comfortable and made to feel at home, as is to be expected in a smaller house. Moreover, your purse will be lightly drawn upon in accordance with the figures given above. Proprietor, Paul Vargues; address, No. 6 rue Castiglione.

HOTEL DE LILLE ET D’ALBION, in rue St. Honoré is not a very large house, but it is ranked among the best, although its charges are quite moderate. It has baths, lift, electric light and English billiard tables, its modern contrivances including telephonic communication with the leading European cities. The sanitary arrangements are said to be perfect. The location is central for shopping, for places of amusement and points of interest, being near Place Vendome, Tuileries Gardens and the Opera. Mail address, 223 rue St. Honoré: telegraph address, Lillalbion, Paris.

HOTEL BRISTOL AND HOTEL DU RHIN both front on the Place Vendome; you can’t miss them: they are near the tall and graceful Column Vendome which pierces the sky from the centre of the square. There is no question as to the excellence of either of these houses. Both are patronized by a select class of patrons; the former is the home of the Prince of Wales when he visits Paris.

HOTEL LIVERPOOL is patronized by the Astors. To Americans this information conveys more than could be detailed in a whole page of description. It is situated at 11 rue Castiglione, a wide and fashionable thoroughfare leading from Place Vendome to the Tuileries Gardens. The house was recently newly fitted up and has a hydraulic lift. There are large apartments for families making a more or less prolonged stay; smaller apartments for transient guests.

HOTEL DE L’ATHÉNÉE. Of hotels just as select as any of those mentioned, there are a score or more. Among them may be mentioned the Hotel de l’Athénée, 15 rue Scribe. It was recently enlarged, the whole of the Théâtre de l’Athénée having been added, and the former dining-room is now converted into a reading room. There are two bath-rooms on each floor. The appointments include a parlor, a reading room, a restaurant a la carte, and two private dining-rooms. There are 180 rooms in all, which rent from four francs to twenty francs a day, but there are not very many rooms in the house at four francs.

DES DEUX MONDES.--A comfortable family hotel, newly and tastefully furnished, is the Hotel des Deux Mondes, 22 Avenue de l’Opéra, facing full south. The charges are moderate and the table d’hôte good.

PRINCE ALBERT.--If price alone is a recommendation there is the Hotel du Prince Albert, 5 rue St. Hyacinthe, near the Tuileries. Rooms from 2 francs 50 centimes per day with even lower terms for the winter. The house seeks American patronage.

HOTEL BRIGHTON, 218 rue de Rivoli. Rooms from 6 francs per day: breakfast, 2 francs, dinner 7 francs. Proprietor, A. Bastianello.

HOTEL CAMPBELL.--This favorite house with an English name has changed hands, lately. Arthur Geissler is the new proprietor. It is at 61 and 63 Avenue de Friedland, a pleasant and fashionable location, near the grand drive of the Champs Élysées. The house is in a healthy condition and the rates are moderate, Hotel Campbell is easy to find; it is close to the Arc de Triomphe.

PENSIONS OF THE FIRST CLASS.

But you are not forced to patronize any hotel, large or small; there are many very delightful _pensions_ or boarding houses in Paris. These some people prefer, if their party includes ladies, or if they intend to make a protracted stay. A few of these _pensions_ are presided over by American women.

THE LAFOND combines some of the best features of hotel and _pension_. It is at 14 rue de la Tremoille, near the Champs Élysées. It is called “a comfortable American home,” and is made all the more comfortable by having a lift. Rates for two persons in one room, with three meals per day, 18 to 30 francs per day; single rooms, 10 to 15 francs per day; children and servants, half rates. These figures include all charges; the American plan. If you prefer the European plan, these rates prevail--breakfast, two to four francs; luncheon, three francs: dinner at 7 P.M., five francs. Cable address, Lafhotel, Paris.

HOTEL DE DIJON is situated in rue Canmartin, between the Opéra and the Madeleine. It is a family _pension_, and the charges range from 7 to 10 francs per day, according to rooms. Soirées are held every Friday with music, singing and dancing. The table d’hôte is good; there are reading, smoking and bath-rooms.

THE VAN PELT PENSION at 69 Boulevard St. Michel is kept by Mrs. E. L. Van Pelt, a Philadelphia woman who took with her to Paris the best American references. This place has many features which commend it to the stranger in Paris. Its location, facing the Luxembourg Gardens, is near the famous art schools and the Sorbonne, where free lectures are given, thus making this a desirable residence for students. It is within easy access by omnibus, cab or train to all parts of Paris and environs. The house stands on a corner, and all the rooms are exposed to the sun and air. A balcony surrounds the first floor. French is the language of the household, and a chaperon accompanies ladies to lectures, etc. There is a separate table for those who prefer to speak English.

AMERICAN FAMILY HOME.--This term is appropriately applied to the _pension de famille_ presided over by a young French widow whose personal beauty and grace of manner are more than marked. Reference is made to Madame Veuve Léon Glatz, who is assisted in her duties by her sister. Both of them speak English with a pretty and piquant accent. The Glatz _pension_ is in rue de Clichy, five minutes distant from St. Lazare Station and Park Monceau; ten minutes from la Madelaine and the Opera. It was built in 1885 and is sanitarily correct; supplied with pure spring water from the new water works of Paris. There is a really grand _salon_ in which _musicales_ are given weekly. In the rear of this is a large and handsome garden, neatly kept--a very pretty lounging place on summer evenings. There are baths in the house, the bedrooms are nicely furnished, the service is good, and last, and by no means least worthy of note is the table, which is liberally supplied; the best as to quality. But Madame Glatz at present has only room for thirty guests and her house is in such demand that you must engage rooms months, or at least weeks, in advance. Terms, 8 to 14 francs per day, which is the full charge; no extras, except, possibly, for lights. This is a favorite place with Americans of refinement: others are not admitted to Madame Glatz’s charming family circle. Address, 45 rue de Clichy.

THE POWERS PENSION--One of the most desirable _pensions_ in Paris, especially desirable for Americans, is kept not by a “charming Frenchwoman,” nor by a “hearty” Britisher, but by a couple of cultivated, good Americans, well-known in New York--Mr. and Mrs. J. G. Powers, Jr. The house is in a high and delightful location, in the American quarter, 69 Avenue d’Antin, near the Champs Élysées. Mrs. Powers claims that it is “the most elegant and comfortable _pension_ in Europe,” and I, who have had some experience in hotels and _pensions_ of the first rank, do not contradict the statement. I am not given to using the adjective “elegant” too freely, but elegant and tasteful are words that come to mind without summoning, in speaking of the Powers _pension_. The _salon_ is a beautiful apartment; yes, uncommonly beautiful. It is on Monday evenings more particularly that this _salon_ looks its best, when the receptions, with music, are held. The Powers _pension_ is a select family home in the strictest sense of the term, and the rates for board are quite reasonable: pleasant rooms and three meals from ten francs per day. A lift was put in last autumn. Make a note of the address--69 Avenue d’Antin.

In the hotels mentioned the reader has a very wide latitude of choice and he may be guided by the facts and the figures set forth, so far as they go. As a last word I will add that if the reader “puts up” at the Hotel Chatham, Hotel Binda, or the Anglo-Français, or the _pensions_ of Mr. and Mrs. Powers, Madame Veuve Glatz, or Mrs. Van Pelt, he will surely have no occasion to regret his choice of quarters.

THE RESTAURANTS OF PARIS.

BY THEODORE CHILD.

In order to anticipate criticism, and to avoid disappointment, it may be well to state at once that the art of cookery is in a terrible state of decadence in Paris. The men of the present generation do not seem to have the sentiment of the table; they know neither its varied resources nor its infinite refinements; their palates are dull, and they are content to eat rather than to dine. This decadence may be remarked both in private and in public establishments. The _gourmet_ nowadays is a rarity, and a man of thirty years of age who knows how to order a dinner is a still greater rarity. One might discover many causes of this decline of a delicate art. The conditions of contemporary life, the hurry and unrest of modern Paris, doubtless do not conduce to the appreciation of fine cooking; but the chief cause of the decline of cookery in restaurants is the development of club life. The men of fashion, leisure, or wealth, who formerly would have lived at the restaurants, now dine at their clubs between two _séances_ at the baccarat table, and the restaurants have thus lost that nucleus of regular and fastidious customers which, by its readiness to criticise and appreciate, obliged and encouraged the _chef_ to keep up the traditions of the dainty palates of the past. At present the great restaurants of Paris depend for support as much on foreigners and on provincial people as on resident Parisians. The criticism of their cookery is less constant and less rigorous; the bills of fare are less varied than they were of old; the _amour propre_ of the cooks is less; in a word, cookery has become nowadays more an industry than an art. Even in the most famous Parisian restaurants the visitor must not expect too much in the way either of viands or of wines.

In certain things, again, it must be remembered that the Parisian market is inferior to the markets of almost any town in England. The English visitor generally speaks disparagingly of the French oyster, for instance, doubtless because he is not accustomed to its flavor, and yet I know many connoisseurs who have travelled and dined in many lands who maintain that of all oysters the green Marennes (_Marennes vertes_) are the most delicate and delicious. The lovers of comparisons will ask what equivalents the French have for real turtle-soup, ox-tail, mulligatawny, and pea-soup with a sprinkling of dried mint and sippets. Is it their _bisque_ or _purée_ of crayfish, their _consommé de volaille_, their _Saint Germain_, or green pea-soup, their _Parmentier_, or thick potato-soup? But the traveller does not go to Paris to eat the food of his native land, but rather to enjoy the particular food of the country. Therefore, he must not expect to get fine salmon, or cod-fish, or turbot, or even mackerel in Paris. The city is too far away from the sea to have good salt-water fish. Salmon in Paris is dry and of poor flavor; fresh cod-fish is rarely seen, and the habits of the restaurants render it impossible to eat such salmon and turbot as there is in favorable conditions. In a London restaurant a whole salmon or a whole turbot is served hot like the joints; in a Paris restaurant, if you order boiled salmon or turbot, the cook cuts a slice off a parboiled fish, puts the slice in the pot, and boils it up for you. The result is unsatisfactory. As a rule, I should say, in a Parisian restaurant eat your salmon and your turbot cold, and prefer to both a red mullet (_rouget_), a sole, a trout, or some fresh-water fish. A carefully prepared _matelotte d’anguilles_, which is not precisely the same as stewed eels, and _friture de Seine_, which need not be compared to whitebait, are both dishes not unworthy of the attention of the epicure.

The French are poor roasters; the roast beef and roast mutton in their restaurants cannot for a moment be compared with the joints at Simpson’s or Blanchard’s in London. Pies and puddings also are unknown to the French, with the exception of _pâtés de foie gras_ and game pies. The French, again, eat their game very fresh and less cooked than the English. Generally, I think that the raw material of the Parisian restaurant cuisine is inferior to that of English restaurants; on the other hand, with the limitations referred to above, particularly as regards roasting, the preparation of the dishes is superior, and in the first-class restaurants unique. In the preparation and variety of vegetables the French lead the world; in the fabrication of sauces they are unsurpassed; in the serving and arrangement of a dinner they leave little to be desired.

But where can one go to dine in Paris? Which restaurants are the best, and what are the prices, and what is one to order? The subject is delicate and even dangerous, for although the critic has the right to declare a book or picture bad, pernicious, or abominable, and to pronounce its author to be unworthy of public attention, he dare not be so outspoken about the wretchedest restaurant-keeper who is licensed to poison his customers. I cannot tell you that such and such a restaurant in the Palais Royal is not to be frequented, or that such and such a gilded palace on the boulevard is an expensive delusion. I may, however, assure you that as prices run in Paris, it is impossible for a restaurateur to serve you with a healthy and honest plate of meat for less than one and a half francs, and you may therefore conclude that the restaurateurs who, for a fixed price, varying from one and a quarter to three francs, offer you a complete dinner of five courses--soup, fish, meat, two desserts, and half a bottle of wine--are probably in league with the honorable apothecaries, whose aid their customers must often need.

To the traveller I say avoid _prix fixe_ dinners altogether, or, if you will satisfy your curiosity, go to the Dîner Européen at the corner of rue Lepelletier and the boulevard (price five francs), or to the table d’hôte dinners of those vast caravansaries, the Hôtel du Louvre, the Grand Hôtel, or the Hôtel Continental, where you dine for six, seven, or eight francs, and see specimens of men, women and children of all the countries of the world, and a profusion of linen, of silver plate, and luxurious surroundings which, for a time, will perhaps distract your attention from the insipidness of the roasts and the cheapness of the sauces.

The Bouillon Duval is an establishment which generally attracts the attention of the traveller. In every quarter of Paris you see one or two sober and respectable-looking façades painted dark red and lettered simply, “Établissement Duval.” The Duval restaurants are wonderfully organized, exceedingly cheap, and all the food sold in them is good and genuine; these establishments now serve an average of three million meals a year. The visitor may often find it convenient in his wanderings about Paris to lunch in one of these Duval restaurants, if he is out of the way of any other well-known restaurant. In all of them he will find the food of the same quality, and the prices the same. As he enters, the doorkeeper will hand him a bulletin, on which all that he eats and drinks will be checked off, and which bulletin, when duly paid and stamped, will serve him as a passport when he leaves the establishment. The prices at the Duvals are very low; no dish costs more than one franc, and most of them only fifty or sixty centimes; wine costs twenty centimes a carafon, which is equivalent to one glassful, or one franc a bottle and upwards; coffee and cognac costs forty centimes. The Duval restaurant may be frequented with impunity, for nothing poisonous or deleterious is sold there; the only disadvantage is that the portions being very small, a hungry man, in order to satisfy his appetite, will need so many portions, that his bill will mount up to as much as if he had lunched or dined in an establishment of superior standing and comfort. The Bouillon Duval stands in the same relation to the regular restaurant as the omnibus or tram-car stands to the victoria; as somebody has said, _c’est l’omnibus du ventre_.

At length we come to the restaurants proper, the restaurants where one dines in the true sense of the term. It is commonly believed that the first-class restaurants in Paris are very dear. The Café Anglais, you will be told, charges twelve francs for a beefsteak for two, and fifteen francs for a Rouen duck. Yes, but the beefsteak in question is a Chateaubriand, a kernel of delicate meat cut in the heart of the _filet_,--meat that is sold at two and a half francs a pound by the butcher--and the duck costs eight or nine francs at the poulterer’s. Good provisions in Paris are dear, and when one considers the heavy expenses of the first-class restaurants, one cannot complain of their charges.

As regards perfection of cooking, the Café Anglais heads the list. Its soups and sauces are exquisite; a sole “à l’Orly,” “Colbert,” “normande,” “à la Join-ville,” or “au vin blanc,” may be eaten there in perfection, and there is no restaurant in Paris where you can get a more delicate “sauce diable” served to a grilled fowl. The two great tests of a French kitchen are soups and sauces; if these are good, you may rest assured that everything else will be good.

In the same category with the Café Anglais, both as regards quality of food and price, may be placed Durand’s, opposite the Madeleine, and Adolphe and Pellé behind the Opéra. Next come the Maison d’Or, the Café de la Paix, Bignon, and the Café de Paris, in the Avenue de l’Opéra, Voisin in the rue Cambon, the old Véfour in the Palais Royal, the Père Lathuile, in the Avenue de Clichy, and Fayot, opposite the Luxembourg Palace. At all these restaurants you can dine delicately and drink as good wines as are still to be had in France. Voisin and Foyot, especially, have choice Burgundies of incomparable fineness.

The third category of restaurants includes the Café Riche, which years ago belonged to the first category; Brébant’s, now a general Bouillon, at the corner of Boulevard Montmartre; Chevilliard, at the Rond-Point des Champs Élysées; Laurent, and Ledoyen, in the Champs Élysées; Champeaux, Place de la Bourse, where you dine in a perpetual winter garden; Edouard, Place Boieldieu, opposite the Opéra Comique; Wepler, Place Clichy; La Pérouse, on the Quai des Grands Augustins; Maire, at the corner of the Boulevard de Strasbourg and the Boulevard St. Denis; Marguery, next door to the Gymnase theatre; Perroncel, rue du Havre, opposite the Gare Saint Lazare. In the Bois du Boulogne the restaurants of Madrid, and of the Pavilion d’Armenonville are much frequented in the summer by gay and smart people: the prices are about the same as at the restaurants in town of the second category, that is to say, two can dine there modestly with ordinary wine for a louis.

I presume that the traveller comes to Paris to taste Parisian cooking, and therefore I shall not recommend him to try the pseudo-English cuisine of Weber or Lucas in the rue Royale and Place de la Madeleine, or the Russian restaurant in the rue Marivaux, or the Hungarian restaurant in the rue Rougemont. There remain then to be mentioned only a few special establishments, such as the Pied de Mouton near the Central Market, and the famous tripe restaurant in the rue Montorgueil. There are several restaurants in Paris which make a specialty of Bouillabaisse; but I do not recommend that dish in Paris, for the simple reason that it is not the real article. In the Parisian Bouillabaisse several of the fish elements are wanting because they cannot bear transportation from the seaside. The traveller _gourmet_ will prefer to wait until chance leads him to Marseilles, where the reigning chief of the great dynasty of Roubion will serve him this savoury dish on a balcony overlooking the blue Mediterranean. The café concerts in the Champs Élysées are also much frequented by open air diners in the summer. The spectacle is curious and amusing, but the _gourmet_ will flee the promiscuity and bustle of their dear and mediocre cuisine.