PARISIANA.

Auckland Star, Volume LVI, Issue 82, 7 April 1925, Page 6

PARISIANA.

•ARIS OPEN-AIR RESTAURANTS (By GEORGE CECIL.) V" ,' A Restaurant in a Tree. ~' • lluch as the French (very properly oathe the slightest approach to a, Irauglit, all healthy persons doliglit in lie balmy zephyrs. So, weather pernitting, they lose no opportunity O f unching and dining in the open air. Parisians who can afford the luxury fol .ake themselves to a certain suburban •otreat. wliere the dining rooms consist of platforms supported by the branches of trees, with a few g'.out posts thrown in to support heavyweight liners. These leafy restaurants, Lowaver, are rather expensive; indeed, somo of them are so costly that only profiteers and the like can afford a bottle of really good vintage wine. The food, too, the proprietors would have one believe, is worth its weight in banknotes. Consequently, the petits riches, of whom there are many in Paris, confine their attentions to the minor boulevard establishments, where meals to suit all purses are served. At some of these plaeps he—or she— who knows the ropes can dine almost sumptuously for eight or ten francs, with a more or less diminutive bottle of red (or white! wine thrown in. A. chauffeur probably would he asked to pay five francs for the same dinner. But he* might be expected to take the patron for a free drive. Nowhere to Walk. Wherever one goes in Paris most restaurant enclosures are closely packed with row upon row of little tables. A part of the pavement is occupied in like manner, for the authorities do not think it necessary to consider the needs of the passing throng. "A narrow pavement, Monsieur? Well, the gutter is broad enough to accommodate the overflow. After all, eating is a necessity, and walking is a luxury. The public should use the restaurant terrace—not the pavement. Fortunately for these selfish Bonifaces, an application to monopolise the space is seldom "turned down," provided it is made in the right way. "And what," you will ask, "is the right way?" A humble demeanour, a tactful sileuce, and the still more tactful showing of a banknote. Occasionally the lynx-eyed police interfere with these open-air activities, "Figure to yourself, Mister the Proprietor, 0 you have annoyed the public by allowing your tables and chairs to bulge in this unseemly manner. Retire them, I beg of you." Whether they are "retired" or not depends upon—wellj circumstances. , j.ujj Milk for Pussy. ' '' ' Paris has ever been famous for its semi-open-air restaurants and cafes, and the less pretentious ones often are the pleasantest. There is a small one in a street behind the Trocadero where dinner costs but a mere trifle. The little terrace is surrounded by a ledge of shrubs; the two pretty waitresses are neat-handed and tres Parisienne; a plump red cat and a Blender black one amble up «ad dcwn, occasionally topping to t Mbvw their favours upon a gratified oastozner; and overhead is quite a large expanse of blue sky. Dinner consists of a savoury enough soup, a " portion of fish, with an admirable sauce, 11 a cutlet, peas or French beans, a-wedge of Roquefort (there is no Better cheese U in all the wide world), fresh butter,-eat-t able bread, and the usual allowance of * wine. The bill comes to nine francs; and if, in the kindness of your heart, it you order milk for the engaging grimalkins, there is no extra charge. Indeed, the artful dears, knowing that milk a on tap, generally miaow till they get it. One also may dine on the terrace of the restaurants facing the Trocadero, '~ and very agreeable they are, too. Tor the traffic forms a panorama, and the attire of the passers-by often is kaeidoscopic. D " Superior Persons. I" In the pretentious suburbs some of tl more chic inhabitants refuse to feed on ,V the terrace. "What, lunch within a foot of the mob! Swallow a mouthful st of dust with each morsel of food! Drink I' wine in which the flies have taken a or bath! But no! For mc a comfortable ry dining room, a padded chair, and a subtp dued light are necessary. Ido not wisi to be taken for a gipsy. Besides, what i- would my friends think? They might imagine- that my home had been sold „ up! No, I will never desert the foyer — for the public gaze!" The haughty, L L and cautious one. Certainly, on a windy day it is w> "' joke taking one's nourishment at a ter•n- race table; what should have been » ■ty pleasure becomes a penance. But on a )lc fine and calm morning there is nothing js. nicer, particularly on market day, when its the picturesque agriculturists descend ™ upon the quarter. In the intervals by of savouring the plain but toothsome faro, the observant gourmet studies new • nd types. .i- 1 on • L Time No Object. 0., Both in Paris and the provinces the procedure is the same. You select your \ r k table, as far as possible from the traffic, — and study the menu in leisurely fashioniO. Hurry over the job, and the waiter wm -* not respect you, for the French take the business of eating seriously. It U>« „,,, establishment has some special disn, d 3R- ! sure to order it, or you will miss someAY-; thing worth having. In some restaurtflt i antsT where wine is included, the tippU NI may be drinkable; in others it is u» OR juice of anything but the grape, l^ toffee also varies, frequently being ; M*. . riblc, even in expensive places. >* BD(J onre was the pride of France too often, GST alas, is its shame. ;EB In most of Iho small cafes the "clients" (anybody who buys anything 10., is a "client")" are 'allowed to bring; w^ J own provender. Laden with lunches cv or ). bread and chunks of cheese, the econu ). mists take the best seats, order a arm* D and spend an hour over the meal. LW V- have the right to stay as long aa W» ;«sj- please.