By Barbra Austin

Sashimi of scallops and daurade.

Shu
8, rue Suger, in the 6th Arrondissement.
01 46 34 25 88. Mon–Sat, 6:30 p.m.–11 p.m.

The fun at Shu starts the moment you step through the door, a child-size portal on quiet rue Suger that leads to a cool and calm den with stone walls, broad wooden tables surrounded by cushioned benches, and a pristine little kitchen with a counter and a few seats.

The menu at this modern Japanese restaurant in a very old building is based around kushiagué—little skewers of delicately fried morsels of vegetables, meat and fish, from taro root to crispy shrimp, delicately seasoned and presented with dipping sauces, coarse salt and lemon.

There are three menus, at 38, 48 and 56 euros, with more plates as you spend more. We chose the middle one, called Suzu, which consisted of an amuse, a sashimi course, a seasonal plate, 15 of the kushiagué, a palate cleanser, a choice of noodles or rice, and dessert.

The amuse was a delicious little shrimp patty in broth with crispy haricots verts. The sashimi were firm and fresh, the milky slices of scallops especially tender and sweet. Next came two cubes of perfect sticky rice topped with salty sweet eel and speared by a sliver of cucumber.

Kushiagué.

Then came the main event, the kushiagué: shiitake mushroom, scallops, eggplant, zucchini, filet mignon (of pork) and 10 other little treats. They were presented, 3 at a time, piping hot and never greasy, some topped with a condiment or garnish, some more interesting than others. I found, and my date agreed, that it was too much; after a while the little skewers began losing their individuality and blended into one big fritter in my brain and mouth. Fried-food fatigue had set in. If I go back (and I hope to) I'll splurge on the 56 euro menu, which actually has fewer kushiagué and more of the other dishes.

We ordered one each of the rice and noodles, the rice in a soup with green tea, the inaniwa noodles served cold with dipping sauce on the side. The slippery white strings didn’t look like much but were surprisingly satisfying.

Grapefruit gelée studded with cool avocado was a refreshing dessert.

There is a short wine list that includes a thoughtful selection of delicate whites. They typically go well with clean Japanese flavors, but sake or even beer would not be a bad idea.

In a nutshell: Shu’s small plates and minimalist aesthetic yield maximum pleasure.

Price check: Fixed-price menus at 38, 48 and 56 euros.

If you like the sound of Shu but want to try modern Japanese on the other side of the Seine:

Guilo Guilo
8, rue Garreau, in the 18th.
01 42 54 23 92.
Dinner only; call for details and reservations.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Provence in Paris: stuffed tomato, peeled and filled with
slow-cooked oxtail threaded with pesto.

Le Comptoir du Relais
9, Carrefour de l’Odéon, in the 6th Arrondissement.
01 43 29 12 05. Open daily, reservations only for dinner Mon–Fri.

This address has been packed since Yves Camdeborde left the beloved La Régalade, in the 14th Arrondissement, to set up shop in the decidedly more visitor-friendly 6th. He runs the hotel upstairs, as well, and if you really want a dinner reservation at the restaurant, you’d be wise to book a room; guests have priority in the booking process.

But you won’t feel like you’re missing out if you go for the no-reservations lunch (extended to dinner on the weekends and every night in August) and order from the broad brasserie menu.

First courses include some lovely salads, but meat lovers will appreciate the range of terrines, hams and saucissons. Foie gras shows up in five places. My favorite starter is a carpaccio of tête de veau (unpoetically called headcheese in English), thin slices of rich and gelatinous matter put on a very hot plate so that it melts in your mouth. A crisp salad dressed with pungent sauce gribiche is a worthy match for the unctuous meat.

Carpaccio of tête de veau.

For a main course I often get the brandade, piping hot with a crisp top. In cooler weather I also like the beef shoulder braised in red wine. The other day, though, I chose a stuffed tomato, peeled and filled with slow-cooked oxtail threaded with pesto: Provence in Paris. My friend ordered the lamb chops with sweet red peppers. I told him to use his hands to get at the best bits of meat, right off the bone, but he was too shy. I wasn’t.

Desserts are simple but well executed. The coffee crème brûlée works, as does a classic riz au lait. A chilled soup of red fruits, studded with fresh berries and melon, garnished with a soup of sheep’s milk ice cream, hit the spot on a warm day. Less straightforward was an oversized macaroon with mascarpone cream, raspberries and piquillo pepper sorbet, more savory than sweet, with a touch of piment d’Espelette, if I’m not mistaken.

Locals and tourists fill the place every day, the queue for a table stretching out on the sidewalk. You can feel like you’re in a mill sometimes, rushed when you’d like a little more time. The service can seem lax when you’re pressed, but it is generally good, which I attribute to Camdeborde’s being there almost all the time, working as hard as everyone else.

In a nutshell: Le Comptoir du Relais is where to have lunch in the 6th, and everyone knows it.

Price check: First courses, 5–26 euros; mains, 12–24 euros; desserts, 6–11 euros.

If you’d rather stand than sit, belly up to the counter at L’Avant Comptoir, Camdeborde’s wine and tapas bar next door.

L’Avant Comptoir
9, Carrefour de l'Odéon, in the 6th Arrondissement.
No reservations. Open daily, all day.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Foie gras ravioli with black truffle emulsion.

Le Grand Véfour
17, rue de Beaujolais, in the 1st Arrondissement.
Mon–Thurs, lunch and dinner; Fri, lunch only.
01 42 96 56 27.

Recently I was lucky enough to be invited to lunch at Le Grand Véfour with a group of hungry bloggers.

Situated at the north end of the gardens of the Palais Royal, this address has hosted the crème de la crème of French politics and culture, its gilded, mirrored walls witness to French history. Originally called Café de Chartres when it opened in 1784, Le Grand Véfour was rechristened in 1820 by Jean Véfour, who turned it into the most sumptuous, prestigious restaurant in Paris.

After a closing during the first decades of the 20th century, chef Raymond Oliver brought it back to prominence once he took over in 1948. It was under his watch that the restaurant earned three Michelin stars. When Oliver left, a star was lost but then regained in 2000, only to be lost again in 2008.

The word “modern” is generally not associated with Le Grand Véfour. Walking through the doors (opened for you by a gloved attendant) feels like entering a time capsule, in fact. But Guy Martin, the chef since 2000, is doing his best to bring the cuisine into the 21st century. The truffle sauce with the foie gras ravioli was aerated to a foam. Übertraditional frogs’ legs were made hip, fried like chicken drumsticks and served with what I will inelegantly but accurately call house-made ketchup. The petits pois atop a pressed tomato tart that accompanied the lamb were not peas at all but barely gelled drops of pea juice, a concession to the molecular trend.

These dishes were more or less successful, but certain elements of the meal reminded me of a woman who doesn’t dress her age. I actually loved those frogs’ legs with spicy ketchup, but I’m not sure they belong on the hand-painted china at a restaurant like Le Grand Véfour. Similarly, the chocolate box that arrived for dessert, filled with mango, felt neither classic nor modern, only dated.

Summer savory-crusted lamb with tomato tart.

There were standouts, though. That foie gras ravioli is the most-ordered dish at Le Grand Véfour for good reason, and the lamb was beautifully crusted, perfectly cooked and fragrant with summer savory.

And then of course there is the cheese tray, a bountiful display of dozens that will take your breath away. It’s mythical.

This menu would normally cost a hefty 268 euros. There is a lunch menu, though, priced sensibly at 88 euros, which includes a starter, main, cheese and dessert. Expensive, yes, but a relative bargain for this class of restaurant.

In a nutshell: Going to Le Grand Véfour is like going back in time. The question is whether or not the restaurant is ready for the future.

Price check: Fixed-price menus 88 euros (lunch only) and 268 euros. À la carte, 200–220 euros. Wine prices start on the ground but reach toward the heavens.

If you like the sound of Le Grand Véfour but want to see how another classic is faring these days:

Taillevent
15, rue Lamennais, in the 8th.
01 44 95 15 01.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Beef with pickled vegetables and summer truffle.

Le Chateaubriand
129, ave Parmentier, in the 11th Arrondissement.
01 43 57 45 95. Tues–Sat, 7:30–11:00 p.m.

This much-lauded restaurant is on every visiting foodie’s to-do list. It was recently named the 11th-best restaurant in the world by the UK's Restaurant Magazine, in fact, though these kinds of proclamations are best taken with a large grain of fleur du sel.

The jury is divided on Basque chef Iñaki Aizpitarte’s singular, modern food. Many people love it, and others are left displeased, but everyone who has eaten it has an opinion.

The first seating is by reservation, but for a later dinner show up around 9:00 or 9:30 and sip natural wine at the bar while you wait for the tables to start turning.

As is the trend these days, the names of the producers who furnish the restaurant with its vegetables, meats and wines are written on a large board on the wall. The old bar makes a cool centerpiece in the glowing room, but there’s not much else to speak of in the way of decor. Still, this space always appeals to me, thanks in part to the attractive crowd (and waiters), hip and happy faces reflected in the mirrors.

When you sit you’ll be asked if you are allergic to anything. This is because Le Chateaubriand serves a unique 45 euro menu. Everyone gets the same series of five or six dishes.

The plates brim with color and feature vegetables prepared in unusual ways. Many are pickled, some aren’t cooked at all and some are smoked. A charred eggplant puree has made an appearance in every meal I’ve had here, once with some very rare beef and most recently with a fillet of mackerel, strewn with leaves and corn shaved from the cob.

On this visit that rare beef was found under a thin sheet of radish, along with carrots, summer truffle and beets, the vegetables sharp and crisp with brine. When a dish works, like this one did, it’s fresh and fantastic. But it’s precisely this style of noncooking that leaves some diners feeling raw.

Lait ribot ice cream with herb salad.

Dessert was a tangy ice cream of lait ribot—sort of like buttermilk—crowned with a leafy garland of sweet and tender herbs, a refreshing end to the meal. I loved it, particularly after having suffered through a concoction of Pop Rocks on previous visits.

In a nutshell: My opinion of Le Chateaubriand? Eat here once or twice and form your own.

Price check: Unique five-course dinner menu for 45 euros. Natural wines run the gamut.

If you like the sound of Le Chateaubriand but want to try another Basque chef with an independent streak, visit Stéphane Jego at Chez l’Ami Jean:

Chez l’Ami Jean
27, rue Malar, in the 7th. 01 47 05 86 89.
Tues–Sat, noon to 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. to midnight.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Pistachio dacquoise with raspberries.

Café des Musées
49, rue de Turenne, in the 3rd Arrondissement.
01 42 72 96 17.
Open every day, lunch and dinner.

Could it be? An honest bistro in the heart of the Marais? One that’s . . . open on Sundays?

If all of this seems to good to be true, rest assured that is actually exists at Café des Musées. The corner location, with its wood paneling and windows opening onto the sidewalk, is quintessentially Parisian. A favorite of locals and visitors alike, it's perfect for those who are not looking for something revolutionary, just good food at good prices. Though in this part of town that might be revolutionary in itself.

We started with a terrine de volaille, rich with liver and studded with fat, accompanied by the largest pot of cornichons I have ever seen. The terrine was good and rustic; I only wish the toast had been up to the task. We loved our other starter, mushrooms à l’escargot: sizzling caps filled with snails, roasted and drowned in garlic butter, the mushroom a delicious substitute for the shell.

Pork chop, gratin dauphinois, frites.

You’ll see French bistro favorites, including a decent steak frites with an addictive béarnaise. I had a pork chop, remarkably tender and juicy, though the accompanying gratin dauphinois was juicy, too; the sauce surrounding the potatoes was runny, not creamy. A fillet of bar felt Mediterranean with its side salads, diced tomato and black olives. It was light and fresh, perfectly good, though its owner clearly wished he had gone the heartier route.

The wine list is short and sweet, with a few whites, a few reds and Drappier Champagne by the coupe, requiring little of your decision-making capabilities. The desserts posed a bigger problem: they all sounded good. At the waiter’s urging I ordered a pistachio and raspberry dacquoise, a crisp meringue disk topped with pistachio cream and plump raspberries. My friends had said that they didn’t want anything, and when I tasted it I held them to their word and hoarded it.

In a nutshell: With a great location, solid food and a charming room, Café des Musées is an easy choice for a no-fuss Parisian meal.

Price check: Starters at 6–10 euros, mains at 15–21 euros. Desserts, 6–8 euros.

If you are on a tighter budget but in the mood for classic Paris:

Bistrot Victoires
6, rue la Vrillière, in the 1st.
01 42 61 43 78.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

The leafy terrace at Hôtel Amour.

Hôtel Amour
8, rue Navarin, in the 9th Arrondissement.
01 48 78 31 80. Daily, noon–11 p.m.

The food at Hôtel Amour is perfectly fine, but it’s the leafy terrace in the back that makes my heart sing. On a warm summer day it feels several degrees cooler in this sort of urban secret garden. Here it’s also cooler, with a laid-back right-bank mix of diners tucking into their tartare with gusto.

The menu is conducive to light meals and snacking. Start with a bunch of radishes or make a meal out of a chicken Caesar salad, a salade niçoise, or a plate of melon, mozzarella and Spanish ham. In case you haven’t noticed, the offerings here are less French, more casual-cosmopolitan. But then so is the clientele.

I saw plenty of bountiful salads pass by in the hands of pretty young waitresses, but many hungrier types were skipping the greens and going straight for the burger, with or without bacon and cheese. I have heard very good things about that burger (from a curmudgeonly American, no less), and I suspect those comments have to do at least in part with the honest pile of frites that accompanies it—crisp, golden, freshly fried and served with all the accoutrements from Heinz and Hellmann’s. Now that’s amour!

Roast chicken with fries.

A burger was not in the cards for me on a recent visit. I wanted to try more of the menu. Starters included smoked salmon, an artichoke salad with Parmesan and olive oil, and a tomato soup with basil. I chose a salad of green peas and fava beans, tossed with delicate greens, bacon and chèvre, which was just right.

I got my fix of fries with the roasted chicken. The chicken (a poulet jaune des Landes) was moist and flavorful, comme il faut, and the green salad was fresh and well dressed, competing as well as it could with those fries. Memorable? Not exactly, but satisfying nonetheless. Other main-course options included an entrecôte, grilled bass and grilled saucisses.

The real treat here, though, as I said earlier, is the setting. A brick patio under a glass atrium gives way to a lush garden with more seating among the greenery. There are a couple of tables secluded up a few stone stairs, which would make an excellent spot for clandestine business meetings.

Or a little amour, maybe.

In a nutshell: With a pretty crowd, a prettier space and pretty good food, there’s plenty to love about Hôtel Amour.

Price check: Starters are 6–15 euros; mains, 13–28 euros; desserts 4.50–9 euros.

For similar food with a grander view, visit Café Marly, which looks onto the main courtyard of the Louvre and is priced accordingly.

INFO

Café Marly
93, rue de Rivoli, in the 1st.
01 49 26 06 60. Open daily, all day.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Pigeon with sweetbreads, girolles and cucumbers.

Spring Restaurant
6, rue Bailleul, in the 1st Arrondissement.
01 45 96 05 72.
Dinner, Tues–Sat; lunch, Thurs–Sat.

In high summer, Spring has sprung.

Has sprung again, I should say; this is the second incarnation of Daniel Rose’s much-lauded restaurant in the 9th, open at long last.

A fantastic renovation has left original architectural details of the 16th century space in place, protected but visible thanks to clever and beautiful use of glass to cover exposed beams and stone walls, and to encase a risky old stairway. A huge plate-glass window swings out to the street. The open stainless steel kitchen is the centerpiece, dominating the roughly 22-seat dining room. There you can watch Daniel, cochef Marie-Aude Mery and their small staff at work.

Your meal there will not be the same as mine, though it will be the same as your neighbor’s. The unique 64 euro menu changes daily according to whim and what products are available.

We settled in with champagne and a plate of melon with cured pork loin, ready to get down to business.

On this night there was eggplant, showing off its versatility as a crisp croquette, a quenelle of caviar, a deeply caramelized confit and, most surprising, a lightly pickled wedge that half the table mistook for a tomato. Smoked eel lent salt and depth to the menagerie.

Eggplant four ways, smoked eel.

Next, tuna two ways: over sweet, delicately smoked tomatoes, accompanied by a tender morsel enrobed in ashes of leeks—a Catalonian riff on old Paris. A single well-seasoned prawn completed the plate. Pigeon followed, mingling with sweetbreads on a bed of girolles and spears of cucumber (a vegetable rarely eaten any way but raw), its flavor concentrated by cooking.

We enjoyed a fantastic cheese plate of Ossau Iraty, cratered cantal and oozy Brie. We finished with a series of sweet dishes: an apricot floating in a verbena broth with red currants and mint; a plate of cherries sautéed with fresh almonds; and a deconstructed lemon tart. These are what I think of as “cooks' desserts,” dispensing with classic pastry forms and focusing first and foremost on flavor.

Lunch is different, built around a daily bouillon—a nod to the earliest Paris restaurants and, specifically, to nearby Les Halles. Chicken or pigeon and pristine vegetables get their turn in the savory bath, and small plates round out the offerings.

The thoughtful wine list is made up of bottles from small producers practicing organic or biodynamic winemaking, from la belle France but also Italy, Germany and Austria. Prices range from the reasonable sub–30 euro mark to, well, whatever you’d like to spend.

Speaking of wine, in September a wine bar will open on the lower level. Something tells me I’ll be spending a lot of time there.

If you want to eat upstairs, though, stop reading this and book immediately.

In a nutshell: It seems that Daniel Rose has done it again.

Price check: The multicourse dinner menu is 64 euros; lunch bouillon, 23 euros.

If Spring appeals but . . . but what? Book now.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Milk-fed veal, wild salmon, chorizo and anchovies.

Chez l’Ami Jean
27, rue Malar, in the 7th Arrondissement.
Tues–Sat, noon to 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. to midnight.
01 47 05 86 89.

At first Chez l’Ami Jean feels like an old-fashioned bistro. Open since 1931, with tables packed tightly in, the space features hams and peppers hanging from the ceiling, and rugby jerseys and family photos on the walls. But since Yves Camdeborde protégé Stéphane Jego took over in 2003, L'Ami Jean has become a destination for Parisians and visitors alike. A classic? Yes. A modern one.

There is a 35 euro formule offered at lunch and dinner. I have always found the copious printed menu here a little hard to navigate, to be honest, so I look to what’s written on the ardoise to help narrow things down.

But I will confess that my favorite way to eat at this Basque-inflected bistro is to order the 60 euro “carte blanche” menu, a series of (usually) six surprises from the kitchen.

We started with a crawfish soup, intense in aroma but a little light in taste, flecked with tiny croutons, peas and chives. Next was a fillet of cod doused with a parsley purée that conjured Dr. Seuss, served with duck foie gras, fava beans and the ribbon of chorizo that comes with many dishes here. Though it certainly adds a splash of color, the chorizo is more than a garnish; a bit of it on your fork adds salt and a touch of heat.

The mixing of meat and fish on the same plate is a recurring theme in Jego’s cooking. Following the cod, for example, was a tender morsel of milk-fed veal sitting atop a translucent sheet of wild salmon, topped in turn with anchovies and more of that chorizo. It shouldn’t work, but it does.

Lobster with boudin noir (blood pudding).

After that was an even more unlikely (to me, anyway) and even more delicious marriage of lobster and boudin noir, a buttery rich claw keeping company with dark and ferrous blood pudding and paper-thin strips of lard. The last savory course was sweetbreads with summer’s girolle mushrooms. These two elements alone would have made a fine dish, but Jego added a briny and herbaceous seafood salad.

I said before that the menu "carte blanche" was all surprises, but that’s not entirely true: the last course is always L’Ami Jean’s famous riz au lait (rice pudding), plopped down in a huge bowl for self-service and impossible to refuse even after so many courses.

Not everyone will love L’Ami Jean, but plenty of people do, and at night the place is packed. If you have a low tolerance for what some call “bustling” and others call “brusque,” I suggest going for lunch, which feels downright tranquil in comparison. In any case, reserve.

In a nutshell: Stéphane Jego’s bold cooking makes Chez l’Ami Jean one of the best contemporary bistros in Paris.

Price check: 35 euro formules at lunch and dinner, or 40–50 euros à la carte. The menu “carte blanche” is 60 euros. A mostly southwestern wine list with both bargains and splurges.

If you like Basque-flavored bistros, you’ll also like Christian Etchebest’s Le Troquet:

Le Troquet
21, rue François Bonvin, in the 15th.
01 45 66 89 00.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Cherry clafouti with pistachio cream.

Le Grand Pan
20, rue Rosenwald, in the 15th Arrondissement.
01 42 50 02 50. Mon–Fri, noon–2 p.m. and 7:30 p.m.–11 p.m.

In Greek mythology, Pan is the god of nature, reigning over pastures and flocks, and the shepherds who keep them. While there is nothing particularly pastoral about the 15th Arrondissement of Paris, there nature’s bounty is yours for the eating at Le Grand Pan.

This bistro often comes up in conversations about where to find a good steak. While it’s true that the côte de boeuf is superb, the generous use of seasonal vegetables at Le Grand Pan makes it more than just an address for meat and potatoes. A refreshing crab gelée was topped with a pile of tender green beans, a nest for a few sweet and rosy shrimps. An earthy mound of girolles was livened up by a marinade, tangy with vinegar and red peppers, and a salty strip of crisp bacon.

Girolles made another appearance with my main course, underneath a beautiful filet mignon of pork, and enriched with a touch of cream. The pigeon that my friend ordered looked comparatively austere, accompanied only by a red wine sauce, but the flavor of this little crisp-skinned bird was anything but.

The best way to eat at Le Grand Pan, though, might be with someone who likes to share. On the wall is a list of pedigreed meats—pork from Eric Ospital, veal and beef from Mauléon—all meant for two mouths, all served with thick, golden fries and, if you’d like, a salad of delicate greens from vegetable goddess Annie Bertin. 

Filet mignon of pork with girolles.

The wine list is oriented mostly toward the southwest, and includes a number of by-the-glass pours and carafes for under 20 euros. What’s not to like about that?

Keeping with the season, we had a very successful cherry clafouti for dessert, topped with a spoonful of pistachio whipped cream (something I will be trying out at home, for sure). That wasn’t before enjoying some cheese, though, a serve-yourself board of five beauties.

When we walked into the room, the atmosphere was friendly and relaxed. I had the distinct impression that most of the diners were neighborhood regulars, and when we left, I remember thinking that I would be a regular at Le Grand Pan, too, if I lived nearby.

In a nutshell: Le Grand Pan deliciously brings the best of French flora and fauna from the fields to the table.

Price check: First courses, 8–16 euros. Mains, 21–25 euros. Desserts, 7 euros.

If Le Grand Pan sounds good but the location doesn’t, visit La Régalade Saint-Honoré, smack dab in the middle of Paris, for great seasonal bistro cooking:

La Régalade Saint-Honoré
123, rue St.-Honoré, in the 1st.
01 42 21 92 40. Mon–Fri, lunch and dinner.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.