I'll never forget the feeling of dread that washed over me as I collapsed in the restroom of Bistrot Le Coquillage, overwhelmed by sickness. But before I dive into the details, let me assure you that the blame does not lie with the esteemed establishment itself.
We'd been longing for a proper French dining experience ever since L'escargot Beurré closed down. The buttery snails were a delight, but after a while, one can only eat so many variations of the same dish. So, when Pierre (not his real name), our beloved waiter from L'escargot, whispered about the new bistrot, our excitement knew no bounds.
We bumped into Pierre at the farmer's market, where he shared the thrilling news of his new gig. His enthusiasm was contagious as he invited us to visit.
Now, if you're a foodie like me, you know how the restaurant industry works. Staff members often hop from one place to another like ingredients in a culinary creation. When your favorite chef disappears, you hope their replacement can fill their shoes, but it's not always the case.
Take Antonio from Nostra Cucina, for example. When he vanished, his successor, Flavio, struggled to replicate Antonio's magic touch with calamari. So, you venture to Mangiare Bene, praying for a taste of Antonio's expertise. It's a small world for food enthusiasts, and we all seem to know each other.
But I digress. Let's return to the main event – the grand opening of Bistrot Le Coquillage.
As a seasoned restaurant reviewer, I knew the drill:
One: Maintain anonymity to ensure an unbiased experience.
Two: Dine with a small group for varied perspectives.
Three: Avoid visiting on opening night to allow the establishment to find its rhythm.
We followed these rules religiously, giving the bistrot two weeks to settle into its groove. With my husband and a group of fellow foodies in tow, we embarked on our culinary adventure.
Nestled in the refurbished old bus depot, the bistrot's exterior exuded warmth with its freshly painted facade adorned with twinkling lights. Inside, the cozy ambiance and tantalizing aromas set the stage for an unforgettable meal.
Pierre's infectious smile welcomed us as we settled into our seats, eager to explore the menu. From freshly baked baguettes paired with European butter to a delectable array of dishes, each bite was a symphony of flavors.
But then, disaster struck. Midway through the meal, I suddenly felt unwell – nauseous and dizzy, with a strange tingling sensation in my throat. Ignoring the exquisite scallops before me, I stumbled to the restroom, where I succumbed to a bout of violent illness.
Paramedics were called, and I was whisked away to the hospital, where I was diagnosed with tropomyosin sensitivity – an allergy to shellfish. It was a bitter blow for a food writer like myself, but I vowed not to let it dampen my spirits.
Weeks later, armed with renewed resolve, we returned to Bistrot Le Coquillage. This time, I broke the rules and revealed my identity when making reservations. Pierre welcomed us warmly, cautioning me against a particular special due to my allergy.
Despite the setback, the lamb chops were a revelation, and the petit pastries were the perfect ending to our meal. ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️