After a most trying day (at least on the feet), I wound up here and was surprised to find out that there was a second level (where we were seated, near the window). From my reading up on it, it was but a crowded room with a long waiting time. Not so, but perhaps I arrived at an opportune early hour when Paris is not ready to dine just yet. All the better, although the addition of voices would provide a pleasant background. As it were, I heard snippets of American and British english spoken, before it was thankfully reduced to nothing by the welcome arrival of French (and an attractive person, as well, who was seated within view of myself).
Not having brushed up on my sub-par French, I was able only to decipher a percentage of the menu (entirely in French, although as with most places of this calibre, an English menu would be provided upon request), and ordered what seemed to attract me, helped along by the word "Lipp" in the title. I suspected I could not go wrong if the name of the dish or drink had the name of the restaurant, and of course, I ordered the duck as is my usual choice whenever presented that in the evening.
Having a bit of wine and talking over the many things of the day, time flew by, and all the better as the service here was quite, shall we say, at their own pace. Not that I minded with beer and wine in hand, though. But, I soon saw the plates of nearby diners- two French fellows who seemed to know what they were doing- and they had shared a giant plate of something that looked superior. I mentioned that it looks as if I have to come back again. As luck would have it, our plates arrived and what I had ordered (Choucroute Lipp) was what I had been eyeing...and it was a brilliant dinner, all of it.
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| should've said "jackets must be worn" (although most people did, with ties) |
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| a shot of the many waiters serving the small room |
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| the vegetarian's nightmare that was the highlight of Lipp |
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