How do you like your art? Traditional? Chic? Classical? Or avant-garde? Well, the people behind Tokyo Eat at the Palais de Tokyo are assuming that you enjoy your art in much the same way that you enjoy your food: lots of it, maybe slightly erratically presented, a hint of multiculturalism and largely contemporary in style, whilst remaining at the end of the day largely palatable without anything too difficult to digest. Am I talking about the current exhibition in the cavernous halls of the museum space at the Palais de Tokyo, or am I talking about the dishes served in its yawning restaurant, Tokyo Eat? It’s difficult to be sure: either way, you’ll come away with a distinct sense of atmosphere, even if not everything is as distinguished at that of the genre’s current masters.
In what has become one of the trendiest places in Paris to chow down on contemporary food and culture, it is entirely possible that you may become overwhelmed by the constant sensory overload that is Tokyo Eat. Greeted by bucket seats and geometric tables (designed and decorated by notable artists) and acidulous lights that are half retro and half ‘deep space’ in their theme, Tokyo Eat is equal parts bar, restaurant and ‘place to be seen’, though not necessarily in that order.
Thus when my very dear old friend from Melbourne, Brett, who is staying in Paris for a month or so suggested we dine out last Thursday, I knew exactly where to take him. As part of my mission to ferry him around to all the places in Paris that have the most “feeling”, as the French like to call it, Tokyo Eat couldn’t be missed. Such venues do not necessary have the most renowned kitchens, nor the best wine cellars, but they do have a certain “je ne sais quoi”, and in this category I would count Tokyo Eat.
So after attending the vernissage for the current show (D’une revolution à l’autre – well worth seeing, but dedicate a good few hours to do so) we made our way over (a whole 50 metres) to the restaurant. After being shown to our table by one of the red-tee shirted, swift-moving besneakered staff members, we settled in for an evening of posing, posturing and making chit-chat with other diners. This is a Contemporary Art Place, after all – not just dinner at some Paris bistro. You have to make like you want to be seen, as god knows, you will be.
To kick the evening off we chose a bottle of the rich, ruby-coloured Marques de Caceres 2004 Rioja Crianza (26 euro). A lively blend of handpicked Tempranillo, Garnacha and Graciano grapes grown in Rioja Alta in Spain, the wine is aged in French and American oaks, and it shows. The nose is a lively bouquet of red fruit (cherries and strawberries?), is spicy and possesses a faint sweetness of vanilla, as derived from the oak. It was a good chewy mouthful that was both fresh and full and easy to drink, with appealing smooth tannins, good complexity and a nice kick that was much appreciated by us both (damned Australians that we are). Yum.
As for the food, the menu is a la carte and despite frequent Asian accents covers fairly safe terrain, though it tended to fall on the lighter side meaning lots of salads, fish and some vegetarian dishes.
For entrée Brett chose the salad trés composée (11 euro): a square stack of grilled aubergines and piquillos, cucumber, red onions and mixed salad leaves. On the side featured a couple of chunks of roasted aubergine that had been lightly doused in garlic and olive oil and roasted through to form a deliciously mushy centre. Topped with a couple of slices of aged manchengo and a criss-cross of sardines, the salad was clean, fresh, extremely generous and would probably be sufficient as a main meal for those who prefer to keep their dinners on the lighter side.
My entrée was a tartare of fresh salmon served with a lambs leaf salad (13 euro). The finely cubed raw salmon pieces had been laced with black sesame seeds, ginger, garlic and chives. Topped with a good dollop of mango chutney, the fish flesh was sweet and creamy in texture and married well with the Japanese overtones of the spices. The accompanying salad was very crisp, the sweet salad leaves dressed in mildly gingery vinaigrette that formed a pleasant textural counterpart to the unctuous salmon. Served with a chunk of sourdough toast, this was a most satisfying way to kick off.
Next course saw Brett order a tartare de boeuf with ‘satay’ spices and sesame seeds (21 euro). The beef was nicely cut, not too fine, and had all the appeal of a traditional steak tartare except that instead of the usual mix of western and French sauces, the dish had been made a little more ‘fusion’ with the warmth of the ‘satay’ spices (a mix of the various ingredients that flavour the standard satay sauce, though minus the peanuts), whilst the sesame seeds lent a discreet nuttiness and crunch to the meat. Served with a scattering of rocket leaves and excellent pommes sauteés, this was a modern twist on a French classic and was one of the more successful dishes of the evening.
For main I chose a filet de dorade with peanut sauce and aubergine (20 euro). What arrived was a flank of sea bream, skin on and baked (maybe a little too much?), sitting in a pool of what was described as peanut sauce. The sauce was sightly odd, to be honest: a little too pinkish for my liking (was it tomatoes, cream or the lighting that produced this effect?) and perhaps a little too sweet. It didn’t have the nutty satay hit I had been hoping for. The ‘confit’ of aubergines was more successful, in that they had been cooked to the point of being glutinous, and these provided yet other gingery, garlicky element to the meal. Whilst I can’t complain to have been hungry afterwards, on the whole I can’t say that I was completely convinced by this fish dish.
Dessert was fun: a faultless mi cuit au chocolat noir arrived on the plate with a lacework of dark chocolate sauce and was crowned with a good scoop of well made vanilla ice-cream (9 euro). Gooey, not too sweet and just warm enough to gently melt the ice-cream, it was a prime example of its species. The second dessert was something that I had not encountered on a restaurant’s menu before: fontainebleau vanille aux framboises et meringue (10 euro). In a round tumbler arrived a gorgeous pink and white concoction of delicately sweetened fresh raspberry pulp layered with cream and capped with a perfect round meringue. My first foray into the dish was a disaster, as when I drove my spoon into the glass in an attempt to break the meringue it squirted raspberry mix all over my dress. Oh well – serves me right for being greedy. When I surmounted this little problem the combination of the slightly tart berries, the fresh cream and the meringue proved to be a sensational one and something that could be –and often is - easily replicated at home (now I guess my next dinner party guests know what they will be receiving – oh well). Just make sure you’re not wearing white when you try to eat one of these little creations; it’s a dangerous proposition for all involved, if a delicious one.
So what are my final thoughts of the meal we shared at Tokyo Eat? Well, the service was good, the atmosphere was fun and vibrant (I really enjoy it when you end up talking to the people next to you, which is exactly what happened to us) and overall, the food was pleasant. Despite there being an overwhelming theme of aubergines on the menu, which is not necessarily a bad thing (I guess they are in season), I do have a few criticisms of a more solid nature. For example, whilst the food was pleasing overall (certainly generous in quantity) we sometimes felt that the kitchen sacrificed the overall success of a dish in the name of “fusion” food, and to be honest, I felt that the prices were a little high for the kind of food that was being served. I understand that the restaurant purchases their produce from very reputable sources (such as Joel Thiébault for the vegetables), however I do feel that for the same prices an overall better standard of cuisine may be found elsewhere in Paris.
The other thing that I have to point out is the atmosphere, which has both positives and negatives: as much as I love the retro-cum-astro lighting and seating, and the vastly proportioned space, I do feel that intimacy is lost as the design of the tables and chairs do not permit easy, intimate conversation and the (pink) lighting makes it difficult to see exactly what you are eating (or at least its natural colour). Thus the feel of the space is really that of a bar or even nightclub rather than a restaurant. This may suit a younger clientele, but I did notice some of the older patrons looking a little ‘niched out’, as it were.
So if these things don’t deter you, it is well worth taking a trip to see the art collection and the antics of the open kitchen at Tokyo Eat: just make sure you’ve brought your glasses and your attitude, as you’ll need them both to make the most of the evening.
Tokyo Eat: where you can digest both art and food in the same mouthful.
13, ave du Président-Wilson / 75016 Paris / Tel: (+33) 01.47.20.00.29. /
Hours: open Tuesay - Sunday 12pm - 11:30pm. / Métro: Iéna or Alma Marceau / http://www.palaisdetokyo.com/#/fo3/high/pause/restaurant.htm