You don’t know it yet, but you’re about to openly wonder how many times Jean-Paul Sartre could spin on a
stool without touching the ground.
There will also be veils made of bacon.
This ought to be good...
Introducing Le Philosophe, a quaint little quarter of French gastronomic and intellectual nourishment, opening tonight in NoHo.
You may have visited Extra Place for Mediterranean or Heidi for Swiss fare in the past few months. Good on you. Well, now the guy behind both has moved on to French here, with the help of a former Jean-Georges chef.
They’re keeping it simple and classic for you—duck à l’orange, bacon-veiled salmon, butter-fried filet mignon topped with foie gras and black truffle... Always keeping it light, the French.
There’s a slight classroom vibe happening, what with the chalkboard menu overhead and the art-class stools at the back counter. And if these walls could talk... well, you’d probably hear something about facticity or thinking and therefore being, because they’re covered in images of legendary French philosophers of yore.
So come here with someone you enjoy a spirited argument with. Then quickly surrender to the fact that no argument can be taken seriously when you’ve got lobster thermidor or profiteroles in your mouth, and just order up a nice Côte de Beaune.
That’s actually how existentialism was born.
There will also be veils made of bacon.
This ought to be good...
Introducing Le Philosophe, a quaint little quarter of French gastronomic and intellectual nourishment, opening tonight in NoHo.
You may have visited Extra Place for Mediterranean or Heidi for Swiss fare in the past few months. Good on you. Well, now the guy behind both has moved on to French here, with the help of a former Jean-Georges chef.
They’re keeping it simple and classic for you—duck à l’orange, bacon-veiled salmon, butter-fried filet mignon topped with foie gras and black truffle... Always keeping it light, the French.
There’s a slight classroom vibe happening, what with the chalkboard menu overhead and the art-class stools at the back counter. And if these walls could talk... well, you’d probably hear something about facticity or thinking and therefore being, because they’re covered in images of legendary French philosophers of yore.
So come here with someone you enjoy a spirited argument with. Then quickly surrender to the fact that no argument can be taken seriously when you’ve got lobster thermidor or profiteroles in your mouth, and just order up a nice Côte de Beaune.
That’s actually how existentialism was born.
