La Maison


La Maison

(8 votes)

Written by Matt Landau

Friday, May 11 2007

La Maison, just off Calle Uruguay, is a trendy little new French café. When you walk inside the old building, its newly-renovated woods and plush red velvets might take you back, if just for a second, to your days in Paris: a time when you were at your social and intellectual prime. A time when you, yourself owned several wine-colored berets.

The feel at La Maison is that of a sophisticated lounge. They have those annoying chairs that are more like big pillows on wheels: terribly uncomfortable to sit on unless you are a professional piano player and used to sitting upright for hours upon end. The other chairs that line the walls are oppositely very comfortable. Get to these before the people in your party do. You'll enjoy the experience much more.

My first time here, I was introduced to a woman who claimed to speak English and Latin and Spanish and French. But what ultimately came out of her mouth sounded like an indecipherable mix of all of four languages at the same time. She was the one who turned me onto the delicious onion chutney.

�The wine list here is nichey. They have a handful of selections that you can't find elsewhere in Panama which, if you are a wine connoisseur, is right up your alley. If you're not, that just means it costs more to get drunk. As required by some mysterious association of French cafes, La Maison serves the obligatory stinky cheese platter which, besides tasting good, can help cover up body odor and ward off evil ghosts.

�The place doesn't have any real food as in plato fuertes, which is kind of a bummer. They'll serve you pates and almonds and olives, but that's about it. The waiters are very well-versed, almost to the point that they're scared to do anything wrong. I don't know about you, but I like a waiter with some imperfections: someone who'll drop something or let out a curse word once in a while. When I joked with one of them that I was going to throw the empty wine bottle at the glass window, she didn't even let out a chuckle!

Each of the three times I've been, the music has been great. I note that Hotel Costes is playing in the background each time I walk in (my music identification skills are meant to impress you). This is the kind of music, with international flare and trendy bass thump, that is—not unlike the 1998 Ch�teau de Fargues—meant to be intoxicating. The night I was there last, it was a communion of sorts. What seemed like all the French people in Panama had gathered for some club and I—the guy who still doesn't know what déj� vu means—felt very much out of my element.

�In the back of the lounge there's a French store selling things like wine bottle holders and antique daggers. There's an interesting phenomenon that occurs when you're getting tipsy and a 200 year old double-edged stabbing device is within reach. This is the point at which I usually suggest it's time to leave.

�La Maison: 2.5 stars