It’s hot and nearly two-thirty in the afternoon when we climb back into the van at the California capitol building, and I say, “If we’re going to eat lunch, we have to do it now.”
I noticed some signs for Old Sacramento, and I suggest that there may be some interesting eateries there. Bob says there must be places right around this area for all the state government workers, and as we get back on the street, Bob sees a sign for the Capitol Cafe.
“We can probably get a sandwich there,” he says. “All we need is a parking space.” So we drive slowly, looking for a place to pull over, but there’s nothing really close. A block or two later, we see an empty meter on our side of 8th Street, a space in the shade, our favorite kind of parking spot, especially on a scorching, sunny day like this. It’s perfect.
As we lock things up, I say, “Hey, there’s a little place there right across the street. With the awning. It looks French. La Bonne Soupe Cafe. Let’s check it out.”
It’s a tiny place, one little room with maybe 6 or 7 wee tables along the left side and across the front. Most of the room is the cooking area where the chef is busy building sandwiches for the folks who are in line.
Every table is taken. We’re hot and sweaty. It doesn’t seem the easy or logical choice. Bob and Jarrett give it a quick once-over and go back outside to the sidewalk. I am intrigued but think we’ll probably walk back to the Capitol Cafe. I know it’s always good to ask for suggestions, so I turn to the people sitting along the side, “We’re from out of town. Where else can we get some lunch around here?”
Several guys look like construction workers, and they have no immediate ideas. A woman at the table near the door says, “You don’t want to go anywhere else. Can’t you wait? You won’t get a better lunch in Sacramento. This place is great. For the bread alone.”
Wow. I didn’t expect such a passionate endorsement. I go out and tell the guys. They agree to give it a try. Maybe a table will open up before our lunches are ready.
The handwritten menu looks great. The soups (or “potages” as it says) are all printed in plural: French onions, cream of vegetables and cream of mushrooms. And the sandwiches are all interesting possibilities, nothing like fast food.
But Bob and I both need a men’s room, and there’s none immediately apparent. Eventually the chef explains that it’s in the back hallway, but we find it’s locked, and the chef has to come back with a key. I say to Bob, “This seems VERY French in every way, including the weird restroom.”
As you stand in line, you learn the routine. The chef deals with each customer individually, getting that person’s entire order before moving on to the next person. He seems to care very much about the food, slicing all the ingredients for each sandwich as needed. It’s not a fancy place by any means, but the service is so personal that it feels very exclusive, and the crunch of the tiny loaves of bread as he cuts each one to order is totally enticing.
Standing in line, I also learn that the lamb is gone, and when Bob orders, he gets the final pork sandwich. Hmm. I will be happy to try the French garlic sausage. And I decide that I have to partake of the potage too, because this place is called La Bonne Soupe Cafe. The soupe has got to be bonne. I get the cream of vegetables, and Bob asks me to get him a bowl of cream of mushrooms too. By the time I get my food and sit down at our little table, Jarrett is done because he went first, and each order is completed in sequence. Actually I think I am the last person in line for the day.
The food is sublime. The sandwiches are served on the incredible little loaves. The soups are perfectly seasoned, richly flavored and smooth. Great soups. Even the bottled pop is French and delicious. This is a stupendous lunch.
Of course, as we finish, we strike up a conversation with the chef. He is French, from Lyon (where I had lived for a year back in 1973 and 74 when I was a student), and he used to have a restaurant in San Francisco called La Maison, but his life changed, and he moved here to Sacramento several years ago and created this lunch business which allows him to have more time and fewer worries, but he obviously still loves cooking and feeding people. His name is Daniel Pont, and his card identifies him as “Chef - Proprietaire.”
As a rule, I avoid having dessert at lunchtime, but today’s dessert special is creme brulee with Grand Marnier, two of my favorite things in the whole world, so I have to get one. Bob says he will have a taste. And Chef Daniel gets out his torch and finishes the sugary brulee after we have finished our lunches. Perfect timing. We are the last customers of the day; we close down the place.I love the fact that we stumbled onto this cafe because of a parking space and because that woman at the front table (who went back to work before we got our food) was so adamant about staying and waiting.
Of course, we explain to the chef what we’re doing, and we tell him how extraordinary his little restaurant is. We wish it were ON the Lincoln Highway, but it’s not far off, so we’ll get a few shots before we leave, and who knows what will bring us back to Sacramento, but we will stop again. And we will put him in this blog. Daniel says many people write about him on the internet (check out this site for examples.) It’s obvious: every town should have a careful and charming Frenchman making superb lunches, and every traveler should be so lucky as to find such a place.
Refreshed, satisfied, we buy several bottles of that French soda to take with us as we head out to hit the highway again.