Disclosure: I was a guest of the property for this meal.
Paris’ history as a capital of thought and letters has led to no shortage of cafés and restaurants with an intellectual past. From Le Procope, Paris’ first café, where the French Revolution was planned and where America’s Francophile founding fathers often dined, to Saint-Germain’s Flore and Deux Magots cafés, both of which welcomed Existentialists, Surrealists, and the Lost Generation, these cafés and restaurants remain destinations for tourists, but their food often pales in comparison to their illustriousness. A handful of spots stand out: I still love Brasserie Lipp, where Hemingway famously dined on herring with steamed potatoes and beer before heading to Closerie des Lilas, on the other side of the Luxembourg Gardens, to write “Big Two Hearted River.” Both Hemingway and Proust loved the Ritz, and frankly, so do I. And after a recent visit, Drouant has joined my list of literary restaurants worth a stop.
Drouant got its start as a brasserie, founded in 1880 by Charles Drouant. In 1914, it was an instigator in a trend of restaurants handing out literary prizes, and to this day, deliberations for the prestigious Goncourt still take place here. (It was following the 1933 decision to award the Goncourt to André Malraux that the Deux Magots prize was founded, with a goal of recompensing less academic writers. Raymond Queneau was the first beneficiary. In a similar vein, the Prix de Flore was first awarded in 1994 thanks to efforts by author Frédéric Beigbeder. Vincent Ravalec was the first winner of the prize, which has since been awarded to divisive writers like Michel Houellebecq or Amélie Nothomb.)
This is a fairly big restaurant, even if you don’t make it up to one of the pocket dining rooms – though I do recommend having a peek on your way to the toilettes! Downstairs, big, airy dining rooms with gleaming wooden tables and velvet chairs welcome a mix of locals and tourists, but at lunchtime during the week, the clientele is understandably governed by folks working in the neighborhood. And since Drouant is just steps from the stock exchange, the prices and pacing stand out from elsewhere.
At lunch, a semainier including a leek-vinaigrette appetizer, an ever-changing main of the day, and a café gourmand is on offer for 45 euros; the plat du jour can also be ordered on its own for 28 to 36 euro. I was feeling fancy – and I also wanted to take advantage of the old-school tableside service that makes this space so special – so I opted to order à la carte. (I also skipped wine, seeing as day drinking, as someone I quite like likes to say, no longer “serves the realm,” though the literal book of wines is indeed impressive.)
A la carte, choices for starter are grouped into two categories. Apéritifs seem designed to share, like crispy langoustines (7 per piece), escargots in brioche (8 for 3 pieces), or osetra caviar (55 for 20 grams). True appetizers include butternut velouté (22) or scallop crudo with truffle and hazelnut oil (38). Despite skipping the semainier, I opted to order the leek-vinaigrette à la carte. It arrived within moments – before the Proustian madeleine-shaped butter, which came out of the kitchen fridge cold, even had time to temper. Luckily, the bread was still kind of warm.
This beautiful mosaic of leeks (14) was bound with a sheet of nori and settled into the special house vinaigrette which, the server informed me with no small amount of pride, was made with leek oil. But there was something else about it I couldn’t quite parse, something that made me think of artificial stabilizers or emulsifiers. I was fairly sure that cream or mayonnaise were to blame, but when I asked the server, he let me know that it was actually blended chickpeas. It wasn’t my favorite, and I didn’t love how soggy the nori got, but it may surprise you to learn that I actually did enjoy the dish on the whole, the tender leeks set off with just the right amount of flaky sea salt.
Main dishes à la carte included a *lot* of morel mushrooms (tis the season) whether atop fresh pasta (42) or alongside John Dory with a buckwheat risotto (62). There were also more classic offerings like roast chicken (32) or duck à l’orange (42). But for me, there was no contest: My love of tableside service is superseded perhaps only by my love of steak tartare (38), and the one here is quite simply perfection.
The server first showed me the copper bowl of expertly hand-cut chunks of beef, which she added to a sauce made with egg yolk seasoned with Tabasco and Worcestershire and whipped to a frenzy before my very eyes. She added generous amounts of whole capers, roughly chopped cornichons, finely minced shallot, and parsley. The meat itself was super tender – a must for hand-cut tartare that I’ve unfortunately found often to not be the case in many other spots.
Can I be honest? If I never ate another French fry again, that would be fine. But these ones were lovely: crispy and golden and full of the slightly sweet starchiness a good potato provides.
The generous portion of salad was dressed with the same unfortunate sauce as the leek vinaigrette, though I found it more approachable here, perhaps because the lettuces were dressed so very lightly.
I also added a side of grilled broccolini (because why not?), which came in a lovely little copper cassolette (10). It was cooked to a perfect al dente, proving that the French are finally departing from their insistence that all veg be cooked within an inch of its life, though the florets had unfortunately absorbed quite a bit of oil. I ate mainly the spears and found it very enjoyable.
Cheese trolleys have become rare in Paris, and even when I see one, I’m often skeptical of the quality and freshness of the offerings. But here, the offering is well worth the 25-euro price tag. All of the cheeses are sourced from second-generation cheesemonger Virginie Boularouah of Chez Virginie in Montmartre – which featured as one of my favorite cheese shops in Paris in my recent Substack series.
I managed somehow to narrow my choices to three house specialties. Le Ch’ti Déj is one I’ve wanted to try for a while, but since my better half is not a fan of anything with a washed rind, I’ve never bought a hunk. I was so pleased to finally try this Maroilles rubbed in spent Brazilian coffee grounds, a clever wink at the Northern French tradition of pairing the slightly sticky, stinky cheese with coffee for breakfast – something I reported on for Vice. The cheese was perfectly aged, with an umami-rich aroma and a lovely toothsome chew. The coffee was present but far from overpowering, adding a nuttiness to the ensemble.
The Paris-Tokyo, however, was not at all to my liking. I’d assumed it was a goat cheese, but upon tasting it, it seemed a bit more like a fresh cow and boasted an unfortunate butyric acid vibe reminiscent of Laughing Cow. The wasabi sesame seeds on the outside were certainly a creative addition, but I couldn’t get past the flavor here.
My favorite was the Retour à la Bergerie, a sheep’s milk cheese coated in herbs from the maquis. Above all, this lent a lovely fennelly kick to an otherwise creamy and welcomely mild ewe’s cheese with just a hint of barnyardy notes. A drizzle of honey was served alongside the cheese, which also came with a block of sweet quince paste.
I was far too full for dessert, especially considering that everyone else in the dining room was splitting the massive madeleine (32) that is the house special. And I did notice that a simple coffee seemed to be paired with a tiny financier – an almond cake invented at the behest of the local financiers looking for a rich cake neat enough to eat without tarnishing important paperwork. I probably should have trusted my gut in opting for this lighter option, but the siren call of the café gourmand was too strong.
If I had to guess, I’d assume that the three miniature pastries on this plate were brought in from elsewhere. The chocolate creation, while pretty, tasted more of gelatin than anything else.
The filling on the tarte au citron was actually quite lovely, with a welcome blend of both lemon and lime. But the pastry was boring, bordering on disappointing, with little flavor and no discernible butter.
The Paris-Brest proved the outlier. The tender, fresh choux pastry was generously filled with both a hazelnut mousseline and a lovely drizzle of praline paste. It was my favorite of the three by far.
I very much enjoyed my experience at Drouant, but I’m far more likely to return at dinner than at lunch. Ordering à la carte is an expensive endeavor, especially if you want wine, and the neighborhood is rife with inexpensive lunch options. That said, if you’re a financier looking to impress at lunchtime, there’s nowhere else in Paris I know of where you can eat four courses in two hours without feeling rushed – a testament to the perfection of the service here, which really seals the deal.
Drouant – 16-18 Place Gaillon, 75002