A French Meal in Rome { Le Carre Francais}

I feel like most of the people I meet here in Rome came here out of a passion for Italy. They studied Italian, or came here for a year abroad. That's not my story. For me, Rome was just another country that my husband's job took us to. We have now been here longer than we have lived anywhere else, and for me longer overseas than "home" in America. With the years I slowly have fallen in love Rome, almost as much as the lifelong Italophile, but there is still a part of me that remains a Francophile. I have learned to love a cornetto with my cappuccino, a warm chunk of Lauriano bread and really who doesn't love mozzarella? But. I miss a buttery croissant, a crusty baguette and gooey wedge of brie. Until last month there was little I could do besides a quick trip to Paris to indulge a craving. That has all changed with the opening of Le Carre Francais in Prati. 

Last weekend Mark and I took a long walk from Monti through the Centro Storico over to Prati working up an appetite for a Parisian bistro lunch of steak frites and a bold glass of red. 

We took a quick spin around the space, taking in the pastry case filled with glossy, pretty treats created by Parisian Michel Galloyer, the boulangerie had piles of croissants and pain au chocolat and baguettes and is overseen by Jean Noël Julien. The tiny Epicere has wooden boxes of salted caramels and butter from Brittany, jars of foie gras and creme fraiche and a small case with brie, Fourme d'Ambert and Comte. 

We found a table and our enthusiastic and multilingual waiter helped us decide on which wine would go best with our steaks, taking care to explain how the beef had been raised slowly in French fields over three years. I loved the Cote de Rhone and liked the Saint Emillion, but both went perfectly with our meal. My only complaint is that the fries were not the long skinny strips I prefer. 

For dessert I had the chocolate eclaire and Mark chose something called a concorde a chocolate mousse topped with crunchy meringue. We were decidedly French and not Italian and had our (Italian) espresso at the same time as our desert. Mon Deiu!

We bought some croissant for breakfast the next day and a slab of algae tinged butter and plotted our return for Boef Bourguignon and plates of cheese and probably a pastry or two. 

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