PARIS IN THE SPRING - LE PHENICIA

Tango dancers by Botero

On my last night in Paris we all went out for a lovely Lebanese meal at Phénicia. It's posh Leb, with tablecloths, Fairouz warbling discreetly in the background and subdued lighting, none of your doner kebabs and belly dancers wobbling their navels in your face. Vi and I clinked kir royales and Desmond woke up long enough to order a pastis, before demolishing a selection of mezze, which if I remember correctly, consisted of kebbe (lemon shaped meatballs with a crunchy coating), stufffed vine leaves, spicy sausage, tabboulé and Lebanese flat bread. The Hornblowers have healthy appetites, and even the children attacked a main course. I had skewered lamb, which was tender and perfectly cooked - just pink inside. The wine was Lebanese Chateau Musar and surprisingly pleasant. Not cheap, mind you, but at least there were no burnt bits to set Hepzibah off.

Children get bored easily, so I lent Hepzibah my camera to keep her quiet. She took some rather good pictures of the food:

Kebbe by Hepzibah Hornblower

The children have been schooled early in art appreciation. Hermione, for example, is a fan of Kandinsky. Hepzibah, being a typical 9-year-old, found the Botero painting on the wall fascinating and took a photograph. It's a bit out of focus. Can you see which part of the painting it is, boys and girls?

We thought we were stuffed after all that, but still found room for a plate of baklava pastries shared between us, which we adults washed down with mint tea. Service was unobtrusive but attentive, and the best thing was we only had about 20 metres to waddle back to bed.

PARIS IN THE SPRING - LE PETIT VILLIERS

The weekend before Easter I tripped down to Paris to visit the Hornblowers. On arrival they whisked me off to Le Petit Villiers for dinner. An unexpectedly reasonable and down-home family restaurant in a posh part of town, it offers French country cooking in a traditional atmosphere, with red checkered tablecloths and a covered enclosed terrace for smokers. You get a fair choice for your 22 euros menu du jour, with a 9-euro fixed menu for kids (steak-frites, dessert) which was fine for the Hornblowers two granddaughters, Hermione and Hepzibah. Or so we thought. It was past Hepzibah's bedtime and she was going to make us pay. She didn't want the children's menu.

"But you always have steak-frites!" said Vi.

Hepzibah whinged, wittered, griped and grizzelled. When her steak-frites arrived she didn't like it. It was a bit burnt on the outside and she didn't like "the black bits". Children's menus are all very well but, like vegetarian menus, they shouldn't be a variation on the normal menu. Chefs should know how to cook for children. She ate her frites, and drank her Coke, which at least woke her up and made her forget about the burnt steak.

Our food was fine, although Vi did say she knew what Hepzibah meant about the black bits on the steak. My eyes lit up when I saw "rognons sauce moutarde", my favourite. They were served in a creamy mustardy sauce, but hadn't been separated, they were still "on the vine", so to speak, which made me wonder how they managed to get the piddle out of them. I was always taught to cut the sinew out of kidneys and salt and rinse them to remove the traces of animal urine, and it's true they do smell a bit pissy when they're cooking. However, they had obviously found some way of taking the pee, as they were delicious and very tender, although I would have preferred them to be pink inside, as ordered, rather than plain raw.

When it came to the dessert, Hepzibah of course didn't want the set pudding. The manager, who had remarked kindly "There is always one who is a star," told her she could have anything she wanted from the menu, which defused her. During all this time Hermione, her 11-year-old sister, had sat good as gold and eaten everything that was put in front of her. She didn't much fancy the set dessert either but to reward her grown-up behaviour, I had arranged to swap desserts if she preferred mine. In years to come, Hermione will be quietly and successfully negotiating in the background while Hepzibah is selling her story to the tabloids.

The service was friendly and brisk, although the manager had his hands full with all tables busy on a Thursday night. Apart from the slightly overcooked steak and the slightly undercooked kidneys, we had to agree that the 100 euro bill for 3 adults and 2 children was indeed, as the website says, "un rapport qualité-prix exceptionnel".


Le Petit Villiers

75 av. de Villiers

75017 Paris
(near metro Wagram)
Tél. : 01 48 88 96 59