A few years ago, I discovered a restaurant that would quickly become one of my favorites: Le Saint-Sébastien. Hidden along the relatively quiet street of the same name, the restaurant is the brainchild of Daniela Lavadenz, a Bolivian expat who left the business world for the world of restaurants, working first in spots like Au Passage and Le 6 Paul Bert before opening this tiny gem.
To say I’ve been back on several occasions since then would be an understatement. (Indeed, if you ever pass by, I’m probably at the bar. Come say hi.) But in July, I hadn’t had a chance to try the food since former sous-chef Chris Edwards became the head honcho in the kitchen, an issue I very much felt I had to rectify.
Even pre pandemic, the dining room here is airy and spacious, affording more than enough room for elbows and private conversations to stay at their respective tables, but I still prefer to eat at the bar, especially when I’m on my own. On this particular evening, I started with some Sicilian green olives and a glass of Alsatian white; I usually let Daniela or Julia make my wine choices, and with a 400-bottle wine list, it’s definitely a good call!
Chef Chris has begun offering a small amuse bouche to every client before dinner begins, so I sipped first on this small bowl of chilled Parmesan broth infused with guindillas and olives. Muted in flavor, it offered a suggestion of richness – kind of perfect to set up your palate for what’s to come.
In the grand tradition of, well, me, I opted to stick with appetizers. (This tendency to go for smaller portions is a ruse so that I can try more stuff.) I began with the guinea hen liver parfait, a house-made charcuterie that is something Chef Chris is bringing a lot more of to this still-fairly-plant-heavy menu.
Le Saint-Sébastien works closely with local farm Les Monts Gardés for a lot of its produce and its guinea hens, and it was lovely to see this plate featuring so much then-seasonal produce. The cherries and rhubarb were pickled, and as a lovely, touch, the little crackers on the side were made of spent grain from Daniela’s husband’s brewery, Deck & Donohue. (In addition to being a lovely concept, this was delicious: the perfect marriage of sweet, sour, and unapologetically rich.)
Next, I dug into Cherbourg salmon with local melon, tomato, and wild saltwort. The salmon is cured in-house, and the melon is marinated in both mirin and sake.
The saltwort, which is similar to samphire, is cooked on the plancha, which lends a smokiness to the dish. It kind of makes your palate think the salmon is smoked, even though it’s not, and the combo of orange salmon and orange melon with two such distinct flavors is a really fun idea. My only bone to pick? A slightly heavy hand with salt. A bit more melon might have balanced things out, but this is still a lovely dish as-is.
For my next dish (still an appetizer!) I have nothing to say but… “wow.”
But I’ll try.
So I am I steak tartare aficionado. I’ve been ordering them pretty much everywhere since I moved to France back in 2007. It’s gotten me some funny looks. (I’ll never forget the time, when dining with my aunt, that a waiter asked us if we knew it would come out raw. Bless him.)
This is my new favorite steak tartare in Paris.
Made with Gascony beef, the meat in this tartare is cut through with tiny cubes of beetroot, which add even more earthiness and bright red color, all the while reducing the actual meat content of the dish. It’s seasoned with sesame and sea purslane, which has a sea salt flavor and a light herbaceousness.
I demolished this.
The desserts here have always tended more towards the savory (aka right up my alley), and this has not changed with Chef Chris at the helm. A tender corn cake was served with a silky buttermilk ice cream and a touch of crumble. The perfect marriage of textures and flavors to finish off the meal.
While my selections don’t necessarily display this, the menu here does always feature at least one vegetarian option – and often a vegan one. The menu changes regularly in accordance with the seasons (and what Agnès is growing at Les Monts Gardés!) and the personable (and, yes, Anglophone) service is a welcome addition to the Parisian culinary landscape.
Le Saint-Séb… you’re still my fave.
Le Saint-Sébastien - 42, rue Saint-Sébastien, 75011