Chicken versus eggs

I’ve eaten at shockingly few restaurants in the five weeks since I’ve been back from New York. With Dad and Lo’s visit on the horizon, I’m plotting some good eating but I started warming up this past week. I feel especially compelled to comment on one of the restaurants as I just saw Alexander Lobrano gave it a nod as one of the best poulet rôtis in Paris. I don’t think Michael or I would agree.

L’Atelier de Maître Albert: 1 rue Maître Albert, 5eme
Went with: Michael on a Thursday night. After we failed to get into Les Papilles and Le Pre Verre because we failed to make reservations. Duh.
Had: The rotisserie chicken. It’s what the place is known for. We also split an appetizer of (don’t read this, mom) crispy rabbit. I was curious after Alex told me she liked the texture of rabbit meat. But ours was inside spring rolls so I tasted greasy crunchiness more than anything meaty or gamey. As for the chicken, well, it was good enough. But stingy portions. The rotisserie at my marché is better.
Impressions: We were cracking up in the restaurant, pretending we were on the set of American Psycho. It feels very New York, circa 1990. Not a bad thing, just saying. Our server was nice but mediocre. In a nutshell: won’t be going back.

On the other hand… Coco & Co: 11 rue Bernard Palissy, 6eme
Went with: Jo on a Sunday for brunch
Had: Eggs Florentine—can you imagine? I really don’t jones for American food here the way I used to when I was a student (if I could count the number of tuna fish sandwiches I ate at The Real McCoy…). But when I saw the Eggs Florentine coming out of the kitchen as Jo and I patiently waited for a table, I knew I had to have them. And they were delicious. The spinach was hearty, the eggs perfectly poached and the muffin, drenched in butter. It was served with some greens that were dressed beautifully, and a few potatoes. Bread and coffee… ohh, it hit the spot.
Impression: I definitely put the eggs before the chicken in this case. Loved the darling, crooked, cramped space, and the staff, despite our waiter being sort of dense. It’s a lovely spot for brunch. Or eggs for dinner if you’re into that sort of thing.