Brasserie Bofinger

For our last night in Paris, David and I went to Bofinger, probably the oldest brasserie in Paris and right in our neighborhood in the Bastille.   My friend Phil recommended it and he and Helga go there when en Pareeee. 

It is a beautiful place and evokes the belle epoque quite readily.  The food was good. I especially enjoyed David's streak tartare.  And the seafood platters (next time I go with someone who likes to share something as beautiful and seafoody as this!) were gorgeous.

The waiters were the cliche Frenchiest we had in Paris so far.  Meaning: SO not nice and just could care less. That was a shame.  And here I tried so hard.  Oh well.

Thanks Phil. All was great except for the total disdain of the waiters.  Would go back, but dressed as a French person.

It never dawned on me, but it is SO not pronounced "BO-finger" but rather "Bo-fawn-zhay."  I love saying it ten times fast now.  It is like giving your mouth a personal massage.