On her last visit to Paris, I introduced my cousin who’s a Franco-phile, to confit de canard, knowing that she’d love it. When I saw the rapture that took over when she put that first forkful in her mouth, I could see that she was hooked as I am.
I’d taken her to Chez Dumonet, which is reliably excellent. This time, though, I’d like to take her somewhere else. A lot of restaurants offer duck confit, occasionally, but it doesn’t reliably appear on menus.
I’m not much for standard restaurant “reviews”. I think dining is a personal experience and while one person might find a dish excellent, it might not be to another person’s liking. Some folks like loud, hip places, and I’m more inclined to hit the classics. Another thing is that when I go out, I don’t always tote my camera or want to have to remember and recount every single thing I ate, or recall every vintage I sipped during the evening.
What I like to do is to point you in the direction of places that I think you might like here in Paris.
Les Cocottes often gets described as a local version of an American-style diner. I don’t know if that’s true. For one thing, everyone speaks French. And for another, there were no snappy apron-clad waitresses pouring bottomless cups of coffee, no trucks parked outside, and no plumber-cracks hanging over the backside of the stools. After all, this is Paris, ya’ know.
In fact, Les Cocottes sits on a pretty prestigious piece of land, in the seventh arrondissement, not known for good-value restaurants, or truckers. But Les Cocottes is a good value, and what makes it even better, the food is worth every centime.
For those of you who don’t live here, you’re probably scratching your heads as who in their right minds would want a hamburger in Paris. If you’re a visitor, you probably don’t come to Paris in search of a burger (unless you’ve got kids in tow). But Parisians, as well as the rest of us, often get the craving for a nice, juicy patty on a big, fluffy bun, and I’m happy to help in our quest to find the best of the lot.
Here’s a list of the places that were suggested by helpful readers in the comments of my post on the burgers at Hippopotamus. I was pretty bowled over with the choices out there and look forward to trying some, or all, of them out.
Please note that I haven’t been to all of these places (yet), and I can’t personally vouch for them.
Hence I’m trusting you guys on these…so they’d better be good! : )
Clotilde Dusoulier is the ultimate Parisian insider, one shares her tasty tales of life in Paris on her blog, Chocolate and Zucchini. In this very handy guide, a native Parisian happily leads us around Paris, taking us from little-known specialty food shops and classic bistros to authentic Japanese noodle bars and wine tasting venues.
One of my favorite parts of Clotilde’s Edible Adventures in Paris are tips on how restaurants and food shops work here. For example, knowing that you’re not a “customer” but a “guest” explains a lot of things to foreigners, who are used to the Customer is King attitude.
Other cultural tips, like keeping your hands on the table while you’re eating and not resting your bread on the edge of your plate, are explained so you can avoid making a faux pas, as I did shortly after I arrived in Paris and was scolded for my bread infraction by the host at a dinner party.
And I always thought it was rude to scold guests! Who knew?
No complaints about the food at Racines. In fact, it’s one of the best places I’ve eaten in Paris in a long time.
Unfortunately I took some of the worst pictures of one of the best-looking—and probably the most heavily-inked—restaurateurs in Paris, so you’ll have to go meet Pierre Jancou for yourself.
When a British travel writer asked if I’d like to meet for brunch last week, he also asked if I could suggest a reasonable place for the article he was doing. So I put on my thinking cap, kicked off my slippers, tossed my funky pajamas in the laundry bin, showered and…get this…shaved!…and actually took a break from my project and got a few breaths of fresh air.
Imagine that! (This is getting to be a habit around here…)
Le Brunch is indeed available at some places in Paris, but je deteste being around people first thing in the morning—and I’m not so fond of Le Brunch either. So we compromised on the more civilized hour of 1pm. Not much is open in Paris on Sunday, which our President is fixing to change, so I suggested Breizh Café a tidy corner spot specializing in galettes de blé noir, commonly known as buckwheat crêpes.
There’s no shortage of strollers or hipsters hanging out in this part of the Marais on Sunday. Once you get by all the folks peering in gallery windows, cigarettes perched in the corners of their mouth and the obligatory Sunday am dark glasses, it’s a relief to find an inexpensive place to eat where the food is anything but trendy.
Because owner Bertrand Larcher is a true Breton, the Breizh Café focuses on the quality of the products and lets them shine, rather than trying to mess with the originals: there’s no red pepper dust on the corner of the plate or twirls of squiggly sauces that have no business being there.
One of the best restaurants in Paris is one that I have a hard time recommending.
It’s not that the food isn’t consistently very good-to-excellent. Nor is the service anything less than friendly and sincere.
One problem with L’Entredgeu is that it’s way up in the 17th, pretty much away from everything else. That’s relatively minor, though. The big problem for me is the name; it’s almost impossible for me to pronounce—although my French friends have a bit of difficulty with it as well, so I don’t feel quite so lame.
In spite of those two minor flaws, I’ve never not enjoyed myself, and the food, at L’Entredgeu.
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