Paris may pride itself on its fine dining flair, but the dishes that continue to captivate locals and tourists alike have long been the hearty comfort foods perfected by the city’s many bistros. Whether it’s the rich red wine gravy of beef bourguignon, or a luxurious au poivre sauce served with steak-frites, these emblems of the Paris dining scene need no introduction.
But among these better-known classics, a few bistro stalwarts have long eluded top billing. Blanquette de veau is just as rich and comforting as bourguignon, with its white gravy elevated with a touch of lemon. Veal’s brains may make some balk, but when done properly, they’re a luxurious answer to the nose-to-tail debate. Meanwhile, other classics have become so ubiquitous at ho-hum corner brasseries as to have their reputations suffer: It only takes one microwaved croque monsieur or insipid French onion soup topped with greasy cheese to turn you off these classics—maybe for good.
Luckily, Paris’s chefs know where to go—and they’ve shared their top tips with Frenchly. Whether you’re looking to discover a new bistro favorite, or simply find the best iteration of an often underwhelming classic, the best palates in the capital are sure to deliver.
Paris Bistro Favorites (and Where to Get Them)
Pâté and Terrine
The history of pâté dates back at least to Ancient Rome, but in France, the delicacy really took off in the Middle Ages, when the seasoned loaves of meat were baked in a salty dough (the pâte that gives pâté its name), rendering them far easier to transport. The rich, varied fillings featured anything from hare to partridge to mutton. But it wasn’t until the 19th century that Napoleon took advantage of Nicolas Appert’s pioneering invention of modern canning to preserve pâtés for his troops for the first time. These days, some claim that the dividing line between pâté and terrine is that the latter is baked in an earthenware dish, while the latter is served in a can or jar. Others say it’s down to the texture, with pâté being smoother and terrine being chunkier. Either way, the forcemeat definitely flies under the radar on bistro menus, particularly among tourists wary of what they assume is an amalgam of toes and nose. And for Tetsuya Yoshida, that’s a real shame. The native of Nagasaki earned his stripes at top spots like two-Michelin-starred Esquisse, before becoming the Executive Chef of the group Marki & Co. He holds both pâté and terrine in high esteem.
“It’s real French cooking,” he says. “It’s an ensemble of culinary techniques, beauty, audacity, and deliciousness.”
Yoshida loves the version at Oui Mon Général, in Paris’s 7th arrondissement. This bistro champions many simple classics, like top-notch charcuterie platters, organic oeufs-mayo, and chou farçi. The terrine “du moment” changes with the season, and may be laced with mushrooms or bright green pistachios.
While modern refrigeration saw the salty pastry crusts of yore rendered obsolete, some contemporary pâtés are indeed wrapped in a far more delicious dough. Pâté en croûte (pâté in a crust) is typically as much a feast for the eyes as for the palate, often featuring a combination of pricey game, foie gras, and nuts assembled into pretty trompes l’œil like so many meaty stained glass windows. (You can see the best at a championship held each year in their honor.)
Amaury Bouhours, the Executive Chef of Alain Ducasse’s two-Michelin-star restaurant Le Meurice, says that pâté en croûte is the bistro staple most deserving of a second look. While it may appear simple, he says, a good version relies on a heaping helping of skill and technique from a master charcutier, a career he says has long suffered a dusty image due to a lack of innovation.
“For a while, [they] seemed unfashionable, because their offerings didn’t really evolve or change, whether in the products themselves or in their presentation,” explains Bouhours.
But master charcutiers like Arnaud Nicolas and Yohan Lastre “are doing an amazing job to rehabilitate this savoir-faire,” he says. Nicolas even has his own 7th arrondissement restaurant where you can dig into his versions uniting pork, foie gras, and chanterelle mushrooms or prawns, chicken, seaweed, and lemon, all encased in buttery puff pastry.
Bouhours is so besotted with this specialty that he even serves his own pâté en croûte at Le Meurice. Currently, it features partridge and foie gras, and is paired with a bitter salad to counterbalance all that richness. He’s also got a soft spot for the version at Le Restaurant Benoit, a Michelin-starred bistro where the delicacy is studded with pistachios and comes with a side of house-made pickles.
Steak Tartare
Steak tartare ostensibly got its name from the Tatars, nomadic Turkic warriors who, legend has it, tenderized meat under their saddles and ate it raw. Whether the myth is true, steak tartare in France was once perhaps doubly off-putting to squeamish diners, seeing as it was traditionally made with horse meat. These days, the specialty is made with raw beef seasoned with finely chopped shallot, cornichon, raw egg, capers, and fresh herbs.
While you’ll find steak tartare on most modern French bistro menus, in many cases, it’s a shadow of what it could be: an insipid pile of cold mince whose only redemption comes in the form of the crispy fries that accompany it. (It doesn’t help that many restaurants bring in their tartares pre-sliced and portioned from the industrial supplier Métro.)
Chef Matan Zaken of Michelin-starred NHOMe, however, has a soft spot for this classic—and he’s got all the tips to ensure you’re getting the best. First, he says, be sure you look for the indication au couteau on the menu. The phrase, which means “by knife,” shows that the tartare is being hand-cut rather than ground. This, he says, “gives it all of its texture.”
A good tartare, he continues, should “of course” have a sweet-and-sour flavor that comes from the addition of pickles and capers. “The pickle shouldn’t be cut too small, so that it explodes a bit of its juice here and there.”
Temperature, too, is a concern. “It’s important that it not be too cold,” he says, noting that only at the proper temperature will the beef’s flavor truly shine. “And of course, the ultimate pleasure is to throw a few shoestring potatoes onto the plate that welcomed that tartare, its sauces and its condiments,” he says. Soaking up all of those flavors with crispy house-made fries is, indeed, pure bliss.
For a tartare worthy of this elegy, Zaken has just one recommendation: Jean-François Piège’s A La Poule Au Pot. Here, explains Zaken, the tartare is prepared tableside on an antique silver side table. The diner, he says, can ask for a bit more or a bit less of each seasoning, personalizing the dish, as it were. The finishing touch—little grooves made by the tines of a fork—“are such a visual pleasure for me,” he says.
Veal Brains
You’ve made it this far—don’t turn back now! This classic of French cuisine may be off-putting to those who think they don’t like offal, but despite the undeniably brain-like appearance, this dish is a true luxury. Veal brains boast a custardy texture and barely-there whisper of delicate flavor—kind of like a meat-scented crème brûlée. It’s a favorite of Andres Reyes Solis, chef of the 11th arrondissement restaurant Le Saint-Sébastien.
“It’s a dish that’s near to my heart,” he says. “It has a delicate flavor, an unctuous texture.”
But its deliciousness is not the only reason Solis loves this dish. In days when we could all afford to be more mindful of our meat consumption, the nose-to-tail aspect is appealing, too.
As for where to seek it out, for Solis, it’s a true tie. “Clown Bar or Le Baratin,” he says. “It’s a signature at both.”
The dish has, indeed, long been a staple of the otherwise ever-changing menu at Clown Bar, where it’s served with bright ponzu, ginger, and green onion. At Le Baratin, Chef Raquel Carena is a skilled master of offal of all kinds, and her veal brains poached in lemon butter are generous and rich, perfectly paired with simple boiled potatoes.
Langue de Boeuf Sauce Piquante
Continuing down this lovely offal-driven path, we come to beef tongue in spiced sauce piquante, a favorite of Le Saint-Sébastien’s former chef Chris Edwards, now the chef-owner of Café des Musiciens in Nice. In this classic dish, thick slices of tongue are paired with a vinegary tomato sauce and small chunks of cornichon for a recipe he dubs, “a fine example of French bistro cooking.”
“Often accompanied by simple steamed potatoes, it serves as a lovely lunch no matter what the season,” Edwards says. “To my mind it is a safe introduction for someone who may be taking their first steps into the culinary wonderland of French offal cooking.”
While it’s hard to find on bistro menus, this insider recommends seeking it out at charcuteries and butcher shops, where it’s often sold to go, so you can heat it up at home. “I have been known to enjoy it cold in the park,” he says, “but I should warn that it can result in stained trousers.”
Escargots
Escargots are a different kind of bistro underdog, a specialty underrated not because of their rarity but rather because of their ubiquity. Most versions are insipid, made with frozen snails and topped with a butter sauce that’s greasy rather than lively and fresh. And seeing as an estimated 95 percent of escargots aren’t even raised in France, it’s especially important to seek out the best.
“Escargots are often dismissed as a novelty,” says Chef Ed Delling-Williams, chef-owner of The Presbytère in Normandy and host of Paris Bistro Cooking, “but when done right—bathed in garlicky, herb-laden butter—f–ing awesome.”
His favorites can be found at L’Escargot Montorgueil, a restaurant in Paris’s 1st arrondissement that has been specializing in the mollusks since 1832. While he admits it’s “quite touristy,” this is truly a gorgeous spot to dig into not just the classic recipe, but also iterations seasoned with brie and walnut, truffle, or foie gras.
French Onion Soup
Like escargots, French onion soup is everywhere, and most iterations are disappointing, made with overly salty broth and topped with greasy cheese. For Romain Mahi, chef of the Michelin-starred restaurant Accents, a good French onion soup stands out in its stalwart simplicity.
“They’re simple products but very good ones, if well-made,” he says.
His favorite is also ostensibly the original. Au Pied de Cochon, located in the former market district of Les Halles, purports to have been the first to top onion soup, already a classic French hangover remedy, with the cheese that would give it its French name, gratinée des Halles. The richer, heartier dish soon became a favorite of both bourgeois revelers on their way home from the cabarets, and the so-called forts des Halles, the “strong men” tasked with unloading shipments for the all-night market, who would go looking for a hearty breakfast after all their labor.
While the market itself has since been moved out to Rungis, the neighborhood bears its imprint, and Au Pied de Cochon still serves its famous soup 24 hours a day. Each bowl is prepared to order, with caramelized onions settled into a rich broth and topped with bread and cheese before being popped under the broiler. “It’s open all night long for cooks,” says Mahi. “It’s great!”
Croque Monsieur
One of the rare truly Parisian specialties, the croque monsieur was ostensibly invented at the turn of the 20th century by bistrotier Michel Lunarca. His ingenious combination of ham, cheese, and a blanket of béchamel turned the sandwich into a true meal.
These days, however, it’s hard to know what’s hiding behind this simple menu item. Some croques are made in just one layer on the exquisite sourdough from Poilâne. Other versions are double-decker marvels on pillowy pain de mie, spread with a touch of mustard. And still others are questionable creations, burned around the edges or boasting the molten outside and chilly interior that raise suspicion of microwave intervention. But when a croque monsieur is good, according to Tomy Gousset, chef-owner of Michelin-starred Tomy & Co, it’s truly excellent.
A good croque, he says, should be gourmand, a French term referring to something rich and utterly moreish. It should rely on only the best ingredients: top-quality ham, copious amounts of French cheese, and a stellar base of bread.
Gousset makes a great croque at Hugo & Co., his internationally inspired bistro in the 5th. He starts with nutty French Comté and cooked country ham, gilding the lily with aromatic black truffle. It’s perfect, he says, for rainy winter days, and given its richness, many choose to split one order with drinks, as an apéritif. When he’s not enjoying his own croque, Gousset also loves the one at Comptoir Principal in the 15th. At brunch, the chef here makes the croque even richer by replacing the bread with a flaky, buttery croissant. The croissant is filled with slices of ham and loads of cheese, before being warmed in the oven so it’s crispy on the outside and gooey within.
