Bill and I discovered the restaurant La Collective Parisienne by accident, while strolling though our beloved Marais.
Now we feel the pride of ownership. A Toronto friend rephrased this for us. He said, "Is that your local?"
Bill had noticed a menu written on a window. The food looked interesting and the price of a three course lunch was 12 euros. We went in and were invited to sit.
Nice place. Airy. We arrived at noon and were among the first to arrive. Within a half hour the room was full.
Later, we learned from the internet that the place is staffed by its members: a combination of professionals and volunteers. That might account for the improvisational air.
A first course of zucchini in vinaigrette. Simple and good.
On another day a first course of tomatoes in vinaigrette, enlivened by fresh herbs and dried flower petals.
Bill and I never tire of watching chefs at work.
Claude plating today's main course: chicken on rice.
And here is the main, set before me, on its pretty plate.
Another main: merguez (North African) sausages with an Israeli stew. That's a poached egg on the right.
For Japanese Day, last Friday, another member became chef, cooking a main of marinated tofu with mushrooms.
In a small room, with tables close together, it is easy to fall into conversation with adjacent strangers.
Blessed is the meal that ends in coffee.
Another pretty plate bearing a small slice of spice cake sprinkled with powdered sugar and flower petals.
One day recently was Italian Day. We conversed in Italian with our server. When I went to pay, she cautioned me, "Don't go. We have a surprise."
A regular customer, a professional singer, stood and belted out a stirring rendition of 'O Sole Mio', to rapturous applause. Lunches to be continued.
