We booked a weekend in Paris with two simple aims: to wander around the Left Bank like overgrown students, and to eat some good food.
Did I say simple? For a vegetarian, not at all. How can it be that the city that produced sensitive philosophers, great art and that sweet film heroine Amelie should consign those averse to dripping steak into culinary purgatory?
We went out on Eurostar - straight from Friday afternoon in the office to Paris in time for a night out as if, as they say, by magic. Trading up to first class meant extra leg space, free magazines, and best of all, champagne and a meal on board at your seat. "Like on a plane," I explained. A phrase that sparked a sinking feeling - should I, like on a plane, have reserved a vegetarian meal for my girlfriend?
Indeed I should, and it could have been a long few hours trying to feed her the red cabbage that wasn't touched by my gammon steak, but the very helpful Eurostar attendant promised to see if she could turn up something vegetarian. We'd barely passed Croydon when glad tidings came that there was, indeed, spinach and ricotta cannelloni on board. So far, so good.
A quick Metro ride - delays apologetically announced on the Porte d'Orleans line seemed to mean just a three-minute wait - took us to the heart of the Left Bank, St Germain des Pres, and our hotel.
The Hotel Bel-Ami apparently attracts a fashion crowd for the shows and the shops, a clientele who might be more comfortable than I in describing a hotel as bijou and chic, but what the hell: it was lovely, smart, not massive rooms, but cosy and intimate, soft sheets, and a great choice for a romantic weekend away (and I still had pretensions to romance). It was small enough to have the sort of lift that makes you loath to climb in with any but the closest acquaintance, yet big enough for that Parisian inconnu, the full-size bath. And the Bel-Ami's reception staff had the rare knack of interacting naturally with guests, rather than the usual choice of disdain or obsequiousness.
It was so nice, we almost didn't want to go out, but as popping to the local bar for a nightcap meant having to choose between those famous old philosophers' hangouts Les Deux Magots and Café de Flore, it seemed rude not to. We ignored the Magots (rampant commercialism, pandering to tourists) for the Flore (rampant commercialism, souvenir shop, but slightly shabbier seats) in our search for authenticity.
In fact, it's probably easier to maintain the fantasy of being a uniquely anguished individual in almost any other cafe in Paris: within minutes of our arrival, an American accent was telling visitors at a neighbouring table that he felt closer to Kurt Cobain than to his own father. I paid my 14 euros for two small beers, in itself nearly enough to provoke a minor existential crisis, and left.
Breakfast reopened the running battle for vegetarian egalité, as I tucked in to some fabulous merguez and the last of the eggs from the Bel-Ami's buffet. Making representations on behalf of my understandably miffed girlfriend seemed to provoke mild hysterics from the friendly camp waiters ("Monsieur, il n'y a plus d'oeufs!" accompanied by a saucy wink); but in general the hotel's petit dejeuner would prove something of a respite from the guilt I felt at being, as a meat-eater, the only one enjoying his food. Croissants don't discriminate.
Well, by the time we'd wandered out into the gorgeous 5e and 6e arrondissements, soaked up the atmosphere, got drawn into a few shoe shops and put the plastic to work, the hunger pangs, headache and irritable remarks were coming. We were literally and metaphorically on Mong Street - rue Monge to the French. It was brasserie time, and we picked the best-looking from a long line of contenders: jammed with what we thought were locals heartily eating their couscous (they turned out to be refugees from a nearby diabetic conference). Soon we too were eating our vegetarian couscous, albeit less heartily. A carrot, as Sartre might have said, is no chicken leg.
By evening, meeting up with a friend for a meal, we'd spent a day wandering around and attempting to eat. "Ca, c'est Paris!" laughed my Parisian friend, "Wandering around, eating..." Yes, yes, but I was tired and hungry, and I wanted him to show me something really French. He assured us he knew just the place, before taking us to a Mexican bar where we could drink tequila cocktails.
Where was the ring of authenticity? He took us - a nice touch - to the Café des Philosophes in the Marais. Carnivores were, as ever, well attended to, but the vegetarian "special": four vegetables cooked à la vapeur? Just how special can steamed beans be? This in the trendy centre of Paris. It's like the late 20th century never happened.
Sunday lunch hit a new low in another Marais restaurant, whose vaunted vegetable terrine had the consistency of a cheap mousemat. But on Sunday evening I was playing my trump card: I had booked a table at a macrobiotic-organic, fair trade-cum- lettucey-lentil joint by the Sorbonne, for cast-iron assurance no one would drop lardons in your salad. We made it up there to find beer was also off the menu. Come on, France! Does not slaughtering a horse mean we can't have a drink?
Eventually we trekked back towards the Bel-Ami to find a restaurant, the Sushi House, on the rue Dauphine. It's sad to conclude that the best bet for a vegetarian in France is to go Japanese, but here, without fuss or fanfare, was a decent meal with tasty substitutes for fish.
It was Napoleon who said that an army, like a travel writer, marches on its stomach. I'm happy to report that Notre Dame is as beautiful as ever, especially seen from the Ile St Louis, lit up on a crisp autumn evening. The Seine flows, the Marais buzzes, the shopfronts are alluring. The Bel-Ami is a lovely hotel in a great location. But if you're vegetarian, pack a sandwich.
Where to get vegetarian
If hoping to find a vegetarian option on the average French restaurant menu is a recipe for gastro-hell, here are some international choices that may come through for you:
La Verte Tige
Another Marais recommendation from Time Out - "in a class of its own". Vegetarian Iranian cooking. 13 rue Ste Anastase, 01.42.77.22.15
Le Potager du Marais
Vegetarian only. Recommended by the Time Out guide to Paris; looks a little 1970s from the outside. 22 rue Rambuteau, 01.44.54.00.31
Sardegna a Tavola
An Italian in the Bastille. 1 rue de Cotte, 01.44.75.03.28
Les Quatre et Une Saveurs
Organic, vegan and fish options. 72 rue du Cardinal-Lemoine, 01 43 26 88 80
· Design Hotels Inc offers a double room from £176 at Hotel Bel-Ami including breakfast and excluding tax. Reservations through Design Hotels Inc on 0800 169 8817; www.designhotels.com
· For bookings on Eurostar made up until 15 December 2002, London-Paris is £59 return for short breaks and weekend day trips for travel until 9 February 2003. For an extra £50 travellers can upgrade to first class. Bookings must be made 14 days in advance and some restrictions apply. Tickets can be booked by calling the Eurostar call centre on 08705 186 186 or online at www.eurostar.com
