Plats pour tous! Plats pour tous!

Jenny forgot to tell the funniest story from our time in Paris. On our first night, we were looking for a restaurant that was good for families. A quick search of the Web led us to Crémerie-Restaurant Polidor. On the walk there, we discussed how none of us knew what the differences were between a bistro, a brasserie, and a restaurant. Boy were we about to get a first-rate education.

We arrived at Polidor relatively early for dinner in Paris, probably about 6 p.m., and there were a lot of empty tables. We were seated quickly, but Jenny noticed that Polidor didn't accept credit or debit cards. We delayed ordering, while my dad went in search of a cash machine.

After 15 to 20 minutes, dad returned to a considerably fuller restaurant. The waitress--a woman in her fifties with a tough dispostion--came back to take our order. She probably expected we'd be hungry after sitting for so long. However, all of us were planning to eat small main courses so that we'd have room to enjoy Polidor's heralded desserts.

My mom ordered an appetizer-sized portion of escargot, we asked for a vegetable plate for Molly, my dad ordered soup, and when I tried to order soup and salad, the woman began berating me in French. I don't speak French, but I didn't need a translator to know that she was not saying nice things to me. Jenny laughed as the waitress continued her diatribe: "Plats pour tous! Plats pour tous!"

My mom, a French major in college, quickly explained that she wasn't happy we were all ordering light courses. She was telling me,"This isn't a bistro. This is a restaurant! You have to order a main course." I didn't want to cause an international incident, so I quickly switched gears and ordered the salmon. Then, when she asked what we wanted to drink, instead of ordering wine, my mom asked for a pitcher of water for the table. That did it. The waitress threw up her hands and stomped off without taking any more orders, muttering who knows what to herself.

She came back quickly, slamming the water and plates down on the table. The food came quite quickly--maybe she just wanted us out of there fast. But Jenny thought that, as the resturant was now full, the best punishment would be to take our time, so we stayed and ordered the desserts we'd always intended to have. I'm not sure whether we showed her or she showed us. Whatever the case, we now know that difference between a bistro and a restaurant is that you don't just order soup at a restaurant.

Surprisingly, you will find almost nothing but glowing reviews about Polidor, so maybe most people know how to order at a Parisian restaurant.