I was loyal to my family owned Paris hotel once I got into the groove and saw that they not only were willing to put up with my boxes, trunks and antiques they were also able to assist me in other endeavors. I, in turn, was willing to put up with them. The Luxe Hotel at Nation was clean and reasonable. It was also in a residential area so I got to know the people and their shops and restaurants as much as they would allow. This went on for twenty or more years up until I got an apartment in Paris for the last eight years or so. I am sure there were better hotels and I am certainly not recommending this one, it just leads into the tea shop housed next door. A strange arrangement indeed. It was only open for lunch, if you can imagine such a thing and they only served gratins and quiches with a side of PLAIN lettuce. (They also served wonderful teas.) If you got there early when they first opened, you got the best gratin of your life, but later in the afternoon the cheese did something horrible and yet they served on, with no apologies. (Like Julia Child, never apologize...I think she got that from the French.)
I thought about this little tea shop while I was making my gratin this morning. You can hardly do anything wrong to a gratin, yet the tea room managed to screw it up as the afternoon wore on. I have never had one go that wrong. Today I used an enormous head of cauliflower, so big I could not get it all in one dish, some broccoli, my bechamel cream sauce and a variety of cheese with bacon bits. It was glorious, although I am a person who could live happily on vegetables of every sort, so adjust your thinking to that fact.
