These photos came at great personal risk: I was scolded by two French men enjoying a two-bottle lunch on a Thursday. (I can think of few sentences that have given me more pleasure to write.)
Au Moulin à Vent is a narrow bistro in the 5th arrondissement whose tininess is only amplified by how packed it is – not just with patrons but also with old-school metal signage and empty wine bottles. Located just steps from the quais de Seine, it’s also in an area where it’s generally difficult to eat well. It meant that I was doubly intrigued when it earned a Best Bistro nod from the second edition of Trophées Pudlo Bistros.
The criteria of this award, established by famed food critic Gilles Pudlowski, included serving traditional French food, a convivial ambiance, good wine, and good value. And after a recent lunch here, I can confirm this spot ticks all the boxes.
I reserved a table with a friend for Thursday at 1:30, and when I arrived, the bistro was packed to the gills. I was seated at a table adjoining the aforementioned scolders (the scolding would come later), and I eavesdropped as they picked their first bottle of wine with help from the server, who was well-informed about the list, sharing that the vintage of the wine they’d picked had switched since the wine list was printed. “The 2022 isn’t as good,” he said. “It’s fine, but 2021 had more sunshine.”
They ordered it anyway, but I appreciated his honesty.
When my friend arrived, the chalkboard menu was passed to us in its entirety, and we joked with our neighbors (still pre-scolding) as we propped it up to examine it. A reasonable prix fixe offering included two appetizers, two mains, and two desserts – 17 for a plat, 22 for two courses, or 27 for three. A la carte, options for starters skewed heavily charcuterie, with pâté en croûte, veal’s head carpaccio, and country terrine with foie gras appearing alongside other bistro stalwarts like egg-mayo or frogs’ legs. Steak tartare featured on both the appetizer and main selection, the latter of which also included steak-frites, roasted hake with celery root purée, and slow-cooked veal belly with gratin dauphinois.
Steak tartare being perhaps my favorite bistro staple aside from beef bourguignon, I knew I would get it at least once. I opted to have it as a starter (12), crowned with a quail’s egg and a shower of fresh herbs. This diminutive portion of hand-cut beef was just right: extremely tender, slightly marbled, and seasoned generously with what may have been a touch of Worcestershire sauce. I loved the slight aniseed aroma of the chervil and the surprising punch of the green onion fronds.
My friend went for the escargots (11) the blurry photo of which I must apologize for. As I was snapping a shot of these snails, one of our neighbors muttered something about what has, for me, become second-nature. But I actually totally respect his disgruntledness. My friend apologized in the Frenchest of ways, which is to say, not all, and she shared some of her escargot butter with me; it was delicious. Seeing as she’s an avid connoisseuse of the capital’s escargots, I believe her when she says these are the city’s best.
You can’t often get just the plat on a two- or three-course menu, but here you can – and not just exceptionnellement. This veal blanquette (17) was one of the best I’ve ever had, richly flavorful with chunks of tender veal settled into balanced, creamy gravy and served in a cast iron cocotte to keep it hot. The traditional side of rice was the ideal pairing, but props to the baguette, too, which here comes from the Tour d’Argent boulangerie, home, as well, to an excellent palmier.
I, meanwhile, opted for this pretty plate of perfectly cooked lentils topped with seared morteau sausage (18). The smoky sausage was delicious, but it was those lentils that really floored me, cooked in a richly flavored broth scented with pork fat until just past tender, so they melted in your mouth. But what may have truly pushed this dish over the edge is the freshness of the garnish, something I find that classic French bistros often overlook. A combo of bitter arugula, pickled cabbage, green onion fronds, and grainy mustard offered just the right levity, acidity, and pungency to elevate what could have been stodgy and over-rich to the tenets of perfection.
I didn’t order the cheese plate (I nearly never do, unless it’s brought on a gilded cart), but while the gents to our left were outside smoking and sipping glasses from their second bottle of wine (seriously, they are my heroes), I snagged a shot of their cheese plate, which boasted a generous selection of Comté, Saint-Nectaire, and Tomme de Savoie. Honestly, for a restaurant selection, I was impressed.
We instead shared dessert, a seasonal Tatin (9) made with both apple and pear. A quenelle of crème fraiche melted into the warm apples, and a sprinkling of crushed speculoos added a touch of texture.
I am a contrarian; of this there is no doubt. So when I say that I agree with Gilles Pudlowski regarding the superiority of this bistro above all others in Paris… you’d best believe it. By the time we left, the kitchen had closed, but some diners were still lingering, including our friends. Jamais deux sans trois, I like to imagine them saying, with a Gallic shrug. (Seriously. Heroes.)
Au Moulin à Vent – 20, rue des Fossés Saint-Bernard, 75005