Barbra Austin

It isn’t you, it’s me.

Don’t get me wrong. I understand why many people love Le Chateaubriand, and there are many things that I like about it myself.

I never ate at the first Spring, so I didn’t really have any preconceived notions about what the new Spring would be like.

That’s not exactly true: I have met Daniel Rose, visited the boutique, and read plenty about the old Spring. But with the exception of a superb ceviche whipped up for the Paris by Mouth launch party, I had never eaten anything made by M. Rose until last Friday night.

“This is the best food for you. The walls at Lascaux are not covered with pictures of broccoli, after all,” said the guy sitting next to us at l’Ami Jean.

Maybe, but I doubt that our paleolithic ancestors had someone like Stephane Jego around to do the cooking.

There is one flaw in this soup: It requires turning on the oven.

The words “cuisine factory” are written on the façade of Café Tolo, which seems odd considering that it is a small place doing something close to home cooking.