A very pleasant find

Thursday. Chez Taeko and a good friend

A few days ago a very charming ex-parisienne friend popped over the channel to pay us a visit. The day was alternately blistering and gusty and I was immodestly attired. Miss Linnet, however was a picture of loveliness in war-effort style beige trousers. We wanted something hearty and filling and so we made for Rue de Bretagne and the Marché des Enfants Rouges.

"You must try the sandwich man." I had been imploring ever since I found out about her imminent visit. "It's just the best thing ever."

"Sandwich man", for want of a better name, makes beautiful sandwiches on fresh ciabatta, served with twinkling eye and twitching beard. Each one is a ten-minute masterpiece; bursting at the seams with avocado, onion confit, jelly-ripe tomatoes, salad leaves and drenched in fruity olive oil. You might think ten minutes is too long to make a sandwich, but there are always plenty of people willing to wait. They are a far cry from the usual cotton-woolly and faintly suspicious offerings at the supermarket, or the generic cheese and ham baguette of the garden variety boulangerie. They are, if i may say, proper fucking sandwiches.

But enough about sandwich man, because as soon as we arrived at the Marché des Enfants-Rouges, me practically dribbling with expectation, our faces fell. Sandwich man's day off. Bugger.

Not to worry though because being English means we do not need to rely on bearded men to have a good time. Following our noses revealed a very exciting looking (and smelling) Japanese stall, the smiling staff all bustling around huge pots. After a moment of trademark dithering we squeezed ourselves into the plastic encased seating area. A strange idea, but actually very comforting once you're inside; sort of like eating in a big soap bubble. The waitress popped in and out of the multiple sliding doors balancing bento boxes and metal pots of tea.

I had never eaten a bento box before, and I must say I was less than enthusiastic about their segregated, manicured look. My only experience with Japanese food in France has been slightly anaemic sushi, and being more of the bubbling cauldron school of comfort foodery I was slightly wary.

I take it all back, please forgive me Japan. After much hesitation (all the options on the menu looked exciting) I went for a Tonkatsu bento on The Guvnor's recommendation and was pleasantly surprised to find that within these neat boxes nestle all manner of tasty treats. There was the Tonkatsu itself, perfectly tender pork in crispy breadcrumbs drizzled with a barbecue sauce. (I'm sure this magic sauce has a proper name and if anyone would like to enlighten me I would be most grateful.)

In the other dinky sections were salmon sashimi, rice, salad and tofu and all of it was delicious, the contents of the bento boxes change with the seasons. I had never experienced "homely" Japanese food before (i don't think Wagamama counts...) but it was divine. The portions were generous, the ingredients were fresh and vibrant and all was served speedily by the charming waitress. The atmosphere in the bubble was friendly; a crowd of mostly local arty types who weren't overly threatening or pretentious and a rather beautiful couple who high-fived after eating.

We washed it all down with green tea and it came to somewhere in the region of 20 euros a head. Not as cheap as a falafel, but infinitely more satisfying.

Chez Taeko was a brilliant find, and a worthy alternative to sandwich man. I will definitely be going back.


Chez Taeko
Marché des Enfants Rouges
39 Rue de Bretagne
Paris 75003

open lunchtimes most days...