Misadventures in the Marais

The limited lunch menu at MOB. We went for the burger and fries.

I can't explain exactly why, but I wasn't in a real hurry to get to MOB, the Paris outpost of  Maimonide of Brooklyn, otherwise known as one of the newer vegan joints to hit the trop-hip upper Marais. The miniscule fast-food spot opened more than a year ago, and after one weak attempt to enter the first week they opened (the woman inside just stared at me a as I tried unsuccessfully to open the locked door. I guess they were closed.), I kind of gave up on the place.

Maybe I should have gone for the popcorn instead.

Last weekend a friend and I tried to squeeze into Cafe Pinson, a block away from MOB, but the crowds were so thick we could hardly breathe inside. Deciding we'd rather starve than suffocate, we made a demi-tour and wandered into Marche des Enfants Rouges, where we scoured menus and ogled plates of food being served from the many enticing food stalls. Exiting from a side door and a little disoriented, we got our bearings when we realized we were standing directly across from MOB. We were famished by now and they were definitely open this time, so in we went.

The guy in the backward baseball cap behind the counter dished up some serious slacker-style service, barely looking up from the book he was reading to acknowledge us as we moseyed up to make our order. Thankfully, it got better from there. (Then worse again, but I'm getting ahead of myself.) Slacker-dude kindly took our orders (there was really only one thing on the menu, and that was a burger and fries, so that's what we got), then rearranged a few platters of cheesecake on the counter-top so we could sit and eat (the one communal table was already full).

Slacker dude prepping our burgers. I wish I hadn't seen this part.

So we're sitting there talking, and out of the corner of my eye, I see slacker dude in the back maneuvering toward us with a giant tray with two indecipherable mounds on it. Midway to the dining area, he stops, opens the door to anoven, and slides the tray with the two mounds inside. Now I recognized the mounds as our lunch. The whole shebang--bun, burger, and side of greasy, thick-cut fries--were basically either frozen or refrigerated and were now being unceremoniously reheated in the oven before being served to us.

That was kind of a buzzkill.

Two minutes later, our meals were presented to us, with the thoughtful addition of a little thimbleful of ketchup. No lettuce, no tomato, no vegan cheese, no onion, no funky serrated pickle, no nothin' in terms of adornment. We tucked in anyway. My friend isn't vegan and as I bit into the mushy, funky-tasting burger, all I could think of was how I ruined her new year's resolution to eat less meat with one poor restaurant choice.

Note absence of additional vegetable matter. Some lettuce would have really helped this burger out. That's cheesecake we didn't try in the background. 

The bun was good. Crunchy and surprisingly fresh-tasting. I don't want to talk smack about vegan restaurants, so I won't tell you about the rest except to say we each ate ever last bite, even if it was one of the least exciting meals of my life.

I give MOB a neuf sur dix (9 out of 10) just for being vegan, but dudes, you've got to liven up those burgers (and expand your menu possibilities) if you want to make a repeat customer out of me.