I explained that Fondue was Swiss and not French when my visiting friend demanded that it feature as part of her whistle-stop weekend in Paris but she insisted that we go anyway. The idea of eating that much cheese didn’t greatly appeal to me but it was halfway up the hill to the Sacre-Coeur (also on the list) so I relented.
From the bright red exterior and the cheeky circus paintings in the window, you know before you go inside that the evening is going to be an experience. You’ll get a good story out of it and these days that’s half the reason for doing anything in the first place. The waiter is exactly as rude and disapproving as you’d want and I hope he enjoys the role he plays. He certainly seems to.
The place is tiny, two rows of tables against either wall. There’s no room for the standard pulling the table out so one person can squeeze round. Instead the theatrics begin early as the outside chair must be used as a stool for the second person to clamber over the table into their seat. If you can do this without kicking your neighbours, well done. If not, it doesn’t matter as you’ll probably befriend them anyway as you all try to figure out if there is anything else coming to dip in the cheese than the slightly stale bread.
There is no menu so the waiter will ask you two questions; “Cheese or meat?” and “Red or white?”. We opted for Cheese and Red. Simple. We are brought an aperitif which as far as I could tell was a small glass of rosé wine with a slice of orange in it and sugar on the rim. Bizzare. Then a plate of food from the 1970s arrives. Some olives, cheap saucisson and what turns out to be potato covered in luminous orange paste. The cheese cubes are nice.
Then the fondue arrives, each table has it’s own little heater thing, and a basket of broken baguette to dip in. It’s strangely addictive. On several occasions we both down tools saying we’ve had enough and then go back for more. So whilst it’s filling in a stodgy way it’s also disastisfying. The wine in the baby bottles (a tax avoidance thing that has become a notorious quirk) is funny and made the standard wine slip down a little easier. We certainly regressed anyway.
If you’re reading this and thinking, ‘Who does she think she is? Talking about bog-standard wine’, it’s simply because you can actually eat really good quality food for a reasonable price in Paris. This place cost 44 euros (for 2 aperatifs, the starter plate, the fondue, and a bibon of wine each) and it was all just a bit gross. I know you go to places like this for the experience but we were only in there for an hour. It was all a bit wham, bam, thank-you mam. We joked that perhaps if you finished the first basket of bread you progressed to level two, but sadly this was simply replaced with more of the same.
If you go, and I actually think you should go, order the meat so you get some variety. Be careful with the wine. Any cold drinks with fondue makes your stomach swell painfully. We left with full stomachs but still strangely hungry. In its favour is the fact you get chatting to your neighbours and despite the gimmicks there were plenty of French people dining.
17 Rue des Trois Frères, 75018 Paris, France
Mero: Abbesses
