8: The Woof Boeuf

A Paris bistro makes a bold claim, but does it hold up?🤔

The slang of today is often hard to keep up with. I feel like no matter how hard I try, whether on the TikTok, the Twitter, the Instagram, I am still at a loss for how people are calling things cool. Especially with a virtue like coolness, all swag, rizz, or clout can be lost in an instant with a mere misdescription (like calling something dank? that was so 2014).

Maybe coolness is a lot in what’s not said. Words, after all, don’t come easy.

There’s always this imminent fear that a person, experience, or food won’t live up to its hype. We, as consumers, sometimes feel like it’s our primary position and duty as all-knowing knower of everything to dispute hype, to serve a hot take on something otherwise beloved and adored by the masses. In college especially, there’s this desire to be alt, to serve a righteous dose of teenage angst. Even as a “food critic” (read: someone who likes to procrastinate their homework by eating and writing), I can’t help but think that all of the words have been already said, the opinions have been given.

Oh, how I WISH I could be that person who has super contentious opinions. Someone who actually finds croissants to be really repulsive or who actually does not need caffeine to be a living, functioning, even bearable human. But I can’t help it! I like what I like. I also happen to like what a lot of other people like. Maybe that makes me mainstream. So? Sue me!

Le Café des Musées is one of those things that a lot of people like. Named Le Figaro’s Best Boeuf Bourguignon of Paris in 2018, it’s a well-vetted Marais establishment. It was after a long, arduous day of galavanting that frequent Accent on the E corroborator O-Dog and I found ourselves asking Avez-vous une table pour deux?

We were fresh off our maiden voyage to Chateau Versailles, where we saw cool clocks, infantile princesses, and plenty of tourists (us included). All of the aimless walking really worked up our appetites, so we sauntered around to see what non-palace outer parts of Versailles had to offer.

The OG plan was to return to the city to dine at Le Petit Celestine upon O-Dog’s suggestion. The sun was beginning to set, as was morale, and we walked by a pizza parlor that really seemed like it could lift our spirits. The doughy, cheesy Margherita pizza “snack” did just that, reminiscent of something I’d ingest after getting off a bouncy house.

At Chateau Versailles, we had seen an old menu of the King’s liking, stoking our imaginations of what’d they eat back in the day. Sitting upon the RER C, O turned to me and said: “You know what’d be really woof? A boeuf bourguignon from Café des Musées…”

We’d received sponsorship from an NYC restaurant industry veteran and generous benefactor, Olivia’s Dad, for our dinner - whatever that may be. “Woof” is O’s descriptor of choice for any and all things cool. It’s a sentence-stopper, a word that really forces conviction in both tone and expression. I like it because I used to call wolves “woofs,” so this one comes easy to me.

We then decided to drop Celestin and reroute to Musées in the 4th… after all, the boeuf is woof had such a nice ring to it.

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We were sat at our table without the need for a menu, although they bring the specials around on a classic black chalkboard display. Deux verres de vin rouge et deux boeuf bourguignons was all she wrote.

At 25 euros per plate, this comes as a real steal considering other Paris price points (Celestin, for example, was serving the same dish at 36 euros). The place itself has an air of class to it, French bistro style, Toulouse Lautrec-esque posters of dancing women scattered throughout. The service, however, is no frills.

Nearly ten minutes aprés ordering, you are presented with two concepts: one, a bare china plate adorned with a lonely, lightly-peppered quenelle of mashed potatoes.

To your right sits a cauldron of the good stuff: your meat, carrots, mushrooms, and bacon. The meat is so tender you can go at it with your spoon, ladling the viscous red wine reduction onto your potato plate or directly into your mouth, at your own discretion. There is absolutely no thought of either salt or pepper, the flavor profiles so complete and rich already. In the words of the true French gourmand: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

I couldn't help but think that this is exactly the type of meal Louis XV would enjoy after a long day of la chasse, hunting pheasants in his country-sized backyard truly fit for a king. While I’m incredibly eager for spring, I’ll miss the ability to have meals like this - warm, hearty, and comforting on a cold night. Topped off with red wine, dishes like boeuf bourguignon are France’s bread & butter (in addition to, of course, real bread and butter).

Words don’t indeed come easy. Overhype underhype, all the takes have already been taken. Just speak the truth with confidence, and you’ll never be mistaken… why did this suddenly turn into a Dr. Suess rhyme?

Café des Musées claims to be the best, which takes a lot of guts to begin with. Maybe there’s better out there, it very well could be true. But for the palette of the peoples, you couldn’t get a woofer boeuf for your buck.

Whether planning a trip or picking where to eat, these days you have to sift through a lottttt of words written by a lotttttt of people. Cities especially are brimming with noise and opinions. My wise words: find the people you like (i.e., Anthony Bourdain, O-Dog) and who also like what you like, to eat at least. Listen to locals, use the lists. And you’ll be dining like Louis XV in no time!

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I’m working on re-doing my Paris recommendations list, so stay tuned for more!!

Thanks for reading, as always.

Xoxo, Chloé