Cool Cuisine

The rumblings began months and months ago: A new raw-food restaurant was due to launch at any moment in a Rive Droite neighborhood fast becoming Paris's new vegan epicenter. There was even a website to support the titillating notion, and a Facebook page, too. So why, then, won't anyone confirm an opening date, or respond to multiple emails begging for an address?

The two-course lunch special sets you back 14 euros

My reason for making repeated contact were more than personal; my next book, Vegetarian Paris, is about to go to press, and I really wanted to include this newcomer, especially considering that raw is a rarity in this city. (Pousse Pousse, a delightful little spot just a few blocks away, has been the only restaurant cru up until now.) I was stoked to hear it opened on December 21, while I was away in San Francisco. I couldn't wait to get back and see what it was all about.

We arrived 1ish on Friday, and were excited to see that we weren't the only folks hungry for something fresh. Settling into our table, I looked to my right and there sat Amelie Pieron, whom I'd met at a pop-up raw-food brunch she hosted in the 17e last year. (She has one last spot available at a pop-up dinner she's hosting on January 8. Get in touch if you want to try her amazing raw cuisine.) I was beginning to like this place already!

The menu at 42 Degres is eclectic, featuring pizzas, maki, soups, burgers, and desserts. Cashews are an integral component of many dishes, but they also make use of novel ingredients, such as parsnips, to replicate the look and texture of rice in their sushi rolls. The a la carte menu ranges from 7-9 euros for entrees and desserts and 11-14 euros for plats. The two-course daily lunch formule costs 14 euro; at night, you get three courses for 27 euro. The drinks menu features bottled organic juices, natural wines, kombucha, and not-very-raw coffee.

The beet "millefeuille" with cashew cream.

One waitperson serviced a busy lunch crowd and did it well.

Our waitperson was efficient but didn't exude a particularly welcoming vibe, but that was OK. The ambiance and our own anticipation made up for it.

The food, when it arrived, was devoured in approximately 5 minutes, and not because we're gluttons; the portions were small. (With the exception of the rather grand-looking bowl of vegetable "noodles" delivered to several other tables, which made us wish we'd ordered that instead.)  My dining partner found his a la carte portobello burger trop salee, though he managed to consume it in its diminutive entirety without further complaint.

I went for the two-course special, which promised a betterave millefeuille avec creme de cajou, and that's exactly what arrived, together with a tasty salad dusted with nut crumbs. I just wish it had been several sizes larger. When we joked about heading around the corner to VG Burger for lunch #2, neither of us was completely sure if the other was serious or not.

Dessert--a lemon tart with a nutty crust--was tasty and different from other raw desserts I've enjoyed, and not just because it was served warm. The filling had the consistency of a pudding, and seemed very "un-raw"--so much so that I asked if it was made, by chance, with soy. I was assured it was made with cashews, and that no soy is used in the restaurant. (I should have known better.)

The portobello "burger" with kale "chips."

The tarte au citron, which arrived at the table in a very un-raw warm state.

My verdict? Good but not great. Like many raw restaurants, it suffers from the less-is-more-money syndrome, and there are still a few kinks (like over-salted dishes) that need to be worked out in the kitchen. But generally, the food is tasty and I'm excited they're here to give visiting vegans and locals alike more varied dining possibilities.

Raw-Raw-Raw!

Kale-as-table-decor. Always a good idea!

I was super excited to get the invite: A plant-based raw-food brunch at a roving "pop-up" restaurant at an undisclosed Paris location. Hip and vegan! In Paris! The entry price for this Sunday underground event? €35 euro per invitee. More than I'd usually spend on brunch (or "lunch," as I like to call it), but I'd just gotten paid and considered the mild splurge an early birthday present to myself and my date--a fellow Scorpio and raw-food fan.

Amelie lets me grill her while she preps the plates.

Having committed to a Halloween party the night before, I wasn't sure how knackered I'd be after a night of spooky festivities, so I didn't commit until the 11th hour: Sunday morning, to be precise. When I emailed asking if there was still availability, I was surprised by the prompt response saying there were two seats left for the 1pm seating. OK: We'll take them!

We found Amelie's place easily; it was a mere fifteen-minute walk from our front door, up the street that sidles along the old graffiti-plastered rail-road tracks and into the 18e arrondissement. In a mid-century apartment complex, up several flights of steps, we were ushered into a bright and airy living space with pleasant green views out the windows and clean, modern decor indoors.

Amelie, who lived and studied in Canada for several years, let me grill her about her raw experience while she prepped the plates for the brunch's six paying guests. She also put up with my ooh-ing and ah-ing over her high-tech dehydrator and other pretty, utilitarian cooking accoutrements.

The dining area was divided into two spaces: A small table for two on one side of the room, and a roomier table for four on the other. Both tables had been set with plates, utensils, and an intriguing melange of edible treats.

Raw granola, fruit compote, apple-rosemary apples, and dehydrated chocolate-and-nut bars!

One of several herbal infusions offered to guests.

We were the first guests to arrive; five minutes after our entry, two others turned up. We learned they were married, and that he was a photographer, and she an artist. They knew Amelie's husband Benoit--also a photographer--which is how they discovered the event. Neither were vegan nor raw, but they said they enjoyed trying new things. How very un-French of them!

Still life with ginger.

Note the fancy dehydrator between the ladies' heads!

Next through the door was Palma, whom I'd met before at a raw chocolate-making class over the summer. She's Italian and very bubbly. I love listening to her speak French with her heavy Napolitan accent. Right behind her was the final invitee, a tall, friendly, stylishly dressed woman who drove in from the suburbs to share the dining experience.

The lovely salt we didn't get to try.

While we mingled and chatted and enjoyed each other's new-found company, Amelie proposed that perhaps we join together the two tables so we could continue the convivial conversation while we dined. We did and it was a great idea.

This raspberry-tinted elixir was made with beets, berries, apples, and other  tasty fruits and veggies.

Palma contemplates her plat principal.

Raw granola with banana, nuts, and spelt. I  could have eaten a kilo of this stuff. It was served with home-made almond milk.

We were offered a variety of water-and-herb infusions to drink--lemon and thyme, lemon and sage--followed by a vivid pinky-red elixir served in a champagne glass. It looked healthier and more refreshing than any bubbly I've ever sipped.

None of us knew whether the stuff at the table, which had a dessert-y look about it, was meant to be eaten then or at the end of the meal, but all of our hands migrated to the little glasses of granola and even tinier glasses of home-made almond milk, and the miniature cups of dehydrated apples with rosemary. We made a collective, if silent, decision to leave the compote with the chocolatel-y looking thing on top for the end.

At last, the plat principal arrived; a savory layered confection with a hint of curry flavor and a soft, flax-seed crust. I loved the fresh flavor of the root-vegetable "noodles," the turnip greens, and the soft, dehydrated squash. It needed a bit of salt, but nothing more.

The piece de resistance.

When we'd devoured every last morsel on our plates, scraped our compote cups clean, sipped the remaining  drops of juice from our glasses, and dabbed the final crumbs from the chocolate confection and licked them off our fingers, we rose from the table ensemble to bid our farewells and head back out into the streets of Paris to enjoy the remaining hours of a sunny autumn Sunday.