‘Ma cocotte can’t be described. ma cocotte lives. Not much theory, no
style, no fashion. Just a very clear desire.
The desire for a place warmed by its fireplaces and its kitchen, made
alive by its friends and its cooks, the kind of free space where anything
can happen, rich in the surprises that are hidden or shown on or in the
Is it a bistro in Paris? Is it a cafeteria somewhere else? Was the brick
there? Were the floor tiles really put together by a naive madman? Are
the bronzes cast in stone deliberate, or is it a mistake? Are there even
more hidden away somewhere?
Would the Droog bathroom be better in a clinic? Did they forget to paint
the chairs? Didn’t they have enough money to make the lamps and the
cutlery match? Who put together this incredible collection of surrealist
photographs? Why are the fireplaces there and yet not there?
At ma cocotte, there are more questions than answers.
All that matters is what’s in the bowl and who you’re eating with.’