Ivo and Lulu

Ivo and Lulu
558 Broome St
212-226-4399

I visited France for the first time when I was 13 years old -- the summer before eighth grade. It was a family vacation, and it kills me to acknowledge my teenage brattiness, but I complained incessantly about "having" to go. I couldn't help it! I wanted to spend the summer watching re-runs of Saved By The Bell and playing spin the bottle with my barely pubescent guy friends. I was far too cool to go on a family vacation, and I even dyed my hair red in protest (really I just wanted to look like Claire Danes in My So Called Life). Well, red is not my color, and my complaining was lost on my parents. My mother promised me I would eat some of the best meals of my life, so I shut my little snout and decided to have an open mind.

We arrived in Paris and immediately hit the town. I felt rejuvenated; glancing at streets filled with croissants and eclairs gave me a profound sense of excitement. However, my happiness came to a screeching halt when I entered the Paris Metro during rush hour. There is no real way for me to describe the stench I inhaled. My 13 year-old brain hadn't yet learned how to be discreet, and I let out a gasp of horror so loud people must have thought I was a pschizophrenic. I glared at my mother. I was deceived! How could people that smelled of such rancid B.O. produce the delectable food she had been raving about?

Don't get me wrong -- I love the French! I watch French films, devour crepes, worship freedom frites, and even find Gerard Depardieu's nose sexy. I mean, their national anthem is a little dramatic (Marchons! Marchons!), but at least it sounds cool. My newly teenaged brain, however, didn't yet know these things, and not even daydreaming about my favorite heartthrobs (Zach Morris and Jordan Catalano) could distract me from my disappointment.

Of course, the story ends happily because that night, I begrudgingly tried escargot for the first time. The little snails I sampled put me in a state of such euphoria I could have easily marched down to the crowded Metro and french kissed every single passenger. Smelly subway or not, the French can cook. That trip was a culinary journey to remember -- from the escargot to my first sip of champagne, I have been been an avid lover of snails and bubbly ever since.

I've had a hard time finding stellar French food in NYC that won't break the bank. Per Se or Le Bernadin are unrealistic, and my neighborhood bistros are all cute, but uninspired. I had heard about Ivo and Lulu for a couple of years and was intrigued by the unique menu and affordable prices, accentuated by its BYOB policy. We went with Hal, our buddy and favorite hedgie, whose career pursuits have taken him to some of the finest restaurants in the country. The restaurant is very chic and loungey -- a little loud, but it was Saturday night at 9 PM. Hal immediately commented on how unique the menu was, from the spinach mousse to the venison pate.

We started with the pear salad -- roasted fruit marinated with honey and topped with creamy blue cheese. Pear and blue cheese go together like peanut butter and chocolate; the sweetness of the fruit combined with the sharpness of the blue cheese is tres, tres magnifique. We also ordered the grilled avocado, which came stuffed with a creamy spinach mouse and shitake mushrooms, dressed in a sesame vinaigrette. This dish was so elegant, so sleek, and so striking that if it were alive, it would be Michelle Obama's arms. The word spinach mousse might scare you, but the the combination of the spinach and heavy cream, engulfed by a big, bold avocado brought me to my knees. The sesame vinaigrette was light and fresh, the perfect compliment.

What would a french meal be without escargot? When the server brought our order to the table, we immediately dove in. When escargot is around, I can't do a whole lot of talking. And if it's really good, I am in my own fantasy world, happily atop the Eiffel Tower savoring the city lights with champagne in one hand and a snail in the other. Maybe Catherine Denueve is there too, and we are both wearing berets. I guess that's what separates the good food from the unforgettable. The food that brings back memories and creates stories, real or imagined. And Ivo and Lulu nailed it. To quote Jeremy, "I think this is the best French food I have ever had."

But wait, there's more. We split boar and sage sausages for our entree -- uniquely spicy little links served over couscous and a fabulously inventive blueberry sauce. The fruit in the sauce lightened the dish up and gave it a hint of a "breakfast for dinner" feeling. We ended our treasure of a meal with the mango mousse. It looked a bit like an orange cloud when served on the plate, and how fitting, seeing as the dessert felt like a gift from heaven. Wouldn't it be amazing if Mango Mousse grew on trees?

So, bring your spirit of choice and head to Ivo and Lulu. Take a bite of the escargot, sop up the remnant sauce with some bread, and create your own private Parisian paradise.