The address shares the same suburb as the Élysée Palace and the map, which we quickly hand you, has something of the speeches of a certain president.
As seductive in its big words as it is difficult to follow in its high figures.
A “at the same time” menu that would make you want to go for each course before the euros that get mixed up in it leave you confused.
As quickly the kitchen obliges, as dry its prices prevent.
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And to ask ourselves, in 2024, who is this Attilio aimed at?
The brand is a first name and the first name that of an Italian chef (Marrazzo), his heart still in the country but his head trained like the hand forged in the great Robuchonian school.
What follows, there again, is the “at the same time” of compositions which, from their peaks, burst between two Alps.
The soft-boiled egg Bordeaux sculls between beef carpaccio and creamy burrata, the Colbert whiting and the great Joël purée sneak between guinea fowl tortellino and ricotta ravioli, the chocolate fondant...
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