Sunday was a full-on SPECIAL day.  I went straight from a boozy sunburnt brunch to dinner for the most dignified division of this undignified blog. Mim and I and a few MMG’s (Mim’s Meals’ Groupies), were seated in the back garden, which is adorable, and open year-round.  I started with the Raclette de Paradou, which was certainly heaven-sent.  It is a skillet filled with cheese topped with a few fingerling potatoes, baby pickles and French bacon.  Something the French Paula Deen would have whipped up for breakfast.  Next, I had the short ribs, which were tender and fell right off the bone (although could have used a bit more flavor), served with garlic mashed potatoes.  Mim was very excited to order the sweetbreads, a dish that was popular when she was working at Hearst in the 1930’s, but now rarely seen on menus. Sweetbreads, I learned, are neither sweet nor bread.  They are apparently the thymus and pancreas of a calf or lamb.  Not BAAAAAd.  For dessert, I had a chocolate and hazelnut tart.  Paradou also has an unlimited champagne brunch (This calls for a ReBlog), and ‘dirty bingo’ (does somebody need to call the health department??)  So, ParaDO yourself a favor, and head down to the meatpacking district next Sunday!

UPDATE! 11.25.09 – Just a day after I posted this, a horrible letter from the owner of Paradou was leaked to Gawker.  FYI the service was great when I went there, and nobody propositioned me for my email address, and I’m glad!

http://gawker.com/5409080/new-york-restaurant-owners-turn-evil

After the rum incident last meal, Mim and I decided to keep it classy with a lunch special sans booze.  JoJo (pronounced with a refined soft ‘J’) was crowded because of Veteran’s Day, and all the people with real jobs had the day off and apparently wanted to go out to lunch too.  Lame.  But the hostess was sweet, and was able to seat me and my nearing-95-year-old-dining-companion in two minutes despite our lack of reservation.   The meal began the best way possible: with a basket of warm, toasty bread.  My first course was shrimp steamed on a mesclun salad with button mushrooms.  It was delightful.  My second dish, salmon with truffled mashed potatoes and brussel sprouts was good as well. I then excused myself to use the restroom, but Mim informed me that in her time it was much too vulgar to say so.  She always says “I need to go check on the girls.”  So after I checked on the boys, our dessert was served, for which we both had the warm chocolate cake with ice cream.  Spectacular start to finish.  Take advantage of Jean Georges’ Autumn Promotion, a top-notch $26 lunch available at all of his restaurants in NYC!

http://www.jean-georges.com/

For the third installment of Mim’s meals, we  wanted to switch it up, so we went to (surprise!) a French restaurant on the upper east side.   When we opened the front d’or, it was like opening a time capsule, where the décor and food hasn’t changed since the 1930’s when Le Veau opened.  Robert, the elderly owner sits in the front both overseeing, while his daughter (played by Juliette Binoche in ‘Mim’s Meals: the Movie’) cheerfully works the floor.  Mim and I both started with the onion soup. I don’t consider soup a real food, and don’t usually waste my time with it.  But the this soup… Out. Of. This. World.  I could eat it seven days a week.  I leaped at the opportunity to order frogs’ legs ($28) for my entrée, and they didn’t disappoint, all sauteed and garlicky and such.  Mim had the coq au vin ($25), which was also top-notch.  For dessert we had parfait au rhum, which was coffee ice cream with rum in it.  We, of course, told our server to go heavy on the rum, so he brought us the whole bottle to pour as we pleased.

Yes, this meal is a little pricier than a typical special, and I was fully prepared to dish out two, or even one hotdogs, but the service and cuisine was so generous, I also must be.

Mim warned me that the crowd at this French bistro was ‘vintage,’ which was true, but it’s also true that seniors love their bargains. And this prix fixe is a pretty good secret kept from the young folk. Mim also warned me that early bird dinners are frequented by ‘owls,’ (apparently the male counterpart to the ‘cougar’) who swoop down on their unassuming prey. So we both kept an eye out, and put up the necessary defenses. I started with the mesclun salad, while Mim started with the vegetable soup, both of which we decided were far too healthy, so we requested extra butter to make up for it. For our entrees, we both had the brook trout almondine, which was expertly sautéed atop a bed of carrots and broccoli. We finished the meal with a dab of ice cream. It was a charming dinner, and we even managed to steer clear of incoming owl pellets.

Or are you just happy to see me? This unassuming little French restaurant turns out to be what one would call a festival of sausages. A sausage fest if you will. And I will. It seems hardly a coincidence that its name directly translates to “Without Pants.” Although don’t take your pants off, or they will call in security (so I’ve heard.) Each table is presented with what can only be described as a ‘Tree of Sausages,’ which I attacked ferociously while Mim cheered me on (See: Left.) Along with the links, each table is bizarrely brought a basket of fresh produce (whole green peppers, tomatoes, cantaloupe, etc.), pâté and rolls, pickles and house dressing, for your engorging pleasure all before even getting to the main course. For my entrée, I munched the mussels in cream sauce (That’s what she said.) They were served in a heaping bowl, a portion that could only be described as ‘hugantic.’ For the desert I had the house crepe with ice cream and chocolate, which was pretty stellar.  Be sure to slip the remaining sausages in your man-purse, up your sleeve, and in your pockets for a free breakfast the next day!