Disclaimer: I was a guest of the property for this meal.
While in Rome this summer, I noticed a near-omnipresence of spots serving the four Roman pastas out of copper saucepans. It definitely seemed alluring, but the more time I spent wandering past these places, most of which were in Trastevere, the more I wondered if they were geared towards tourists. The reviews seemed to show that they were tasty, and the dishes I saw on terraces certainly looked alluring, but I eschewed them in favor of places that catered to locals…
…and then I wondered why.
Just because these restaurants were catering to tourists, I reasoned, didn’t mean they were bad. After all, if I considered the equivalent in Paris, bistros or brasseries serving steak-frites or French onion soup or steak tartare, I’d be likely to find the dining rooms filled with just as many anglophones and just as few locals.
I’ve been bemoaning the loss of the true Parisian bistro for eons, the choices shrinking in favor of concept-driven small plates spots or menus that show how local chefs are taking inspiration, now, from Korea or Denmark, China or Japan or even (often!) the United States. Parisians, it seems, aren’t quite as excited by what has long been their own food; they want to try something new.
But that doesn’t mean that foreigners are ready to give up on bistros.
There are some truly phenomenal bistros here in Paris, but these days, the more classic it is, the more it seems geared towards attracting those from elsewhere. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Some of my favorites, from Café des Ministères to Polidor to Le Severo to Le Relais de l’Entrecôte are more likely to be filled with foreigners than French people, there to take advantage of the truly exquisite approaches to the classic fare that Parisians, for the moment, are not seeking out with quite the same fervor.
That said, there has been a push, of late, to guide Paris’ dining scene back to its roots, with the arrival of neo-bouillons like Bouillon Pigalle and Bouillon République as well as neo-brasseries like Brasserie Rosie or the options from the Nouvelle Garde group like Brasserie Bellanger, Brasserie Dubillot, Brasserie Martin, and the newest (and first Left Bank) addition, Brasserie des Prés.
This new wave is perhaps Paris’ closest calque to the copper-panned pasta spots I saw in Rome: Playfully aware of the history of the brasserie, these spots update the storied past of the genre with bright colors and an explosion of kitschy décor evocative of grand-mère’s living room if grand-mère were a particularly Instagram-aware hoarder. Menus, meanwhile, typically boast updated versions of staples that hew just close enough to tradition where it counts.
I’ve had uneven experiences at these places, thus far. My first trip to Rosie was a revelation, especially seeing as, given its omnipresence on social media, I was prepared to not like it at all. But I was pleasantly surprised to find the saucisse-purée moreish and rich and savory, the lentil salad balanced and so delicious we had to order another. But on a return visit, I found that the same sausage dish I had so loved had grown insipid in my absence; the new appetizers felt under-conceived and flabby. Brasserie Dubillot had some high points, like a creative leek-vinaigrette with coal-charred alliums topped with grainy mustard vinaigrette, toasted hazelnuts, and butter-fried croutons, but ultimately, I found myself comparing it to places with a bit more soul, like Les Arlots, and in so doing found it wanting.
But when I was recently invited to try Brasserie des Prés, I decided to give the category another look. After all, if these restaurants could deliver on the promise of approachable, contemporary French brasserie food, I’d be happy to recommend them – and even to visit myself, especially when looking for a place perfect for a crowd whose prices are far more approachable than most others in the city.
At first, Brasserie des Prés seemed to deliver on the promise. Located within a multi-storey dining room in the picturesque Cour du Commerce, just across the way from le Procope, Paris’ oldest café, Brasserie des Prés is nothing if not charming. The multiple dining rooms each boast their own vibe, and the buttery light from the shaded wall sconces and walls lined with pleasantly kitschy framed posters and photographs in the one I was escorted to only served to magnify the centerpiece of the building: an actual piece of the medieval confining wall of Paris.
The menu is studded with slightly updated classics, from salade niçoise with house-confit pollack to a beef tongue brochette, as well as a few more middle-of-the-road offerings like Salers bavette with red wine or bearnaise sauce, steak tartare, house-made pâté en croûte, and the still-same saucisse-purée and poireaux-vinaigrette I had sampled at the 2nd arrondissement big sister spot.
Given the sudden arrival of autumnal weather, it seemed unimaginable to opt for anything other than French onion soup to start, though I awaited it with some trepidation. After all, this Parisian classic is often underwhelming, with broth that’s overly salty to make up for a lack of concentration in flavor, soggy croutons, or gloppy cheese.
None of these issues plagued the iteration at Brasserie des Prés, which I can say with no hyperbole may be the best one I’ve ever had.
The rich, port-scented veal stock covered a generous pile of deeply caramelized onions, and large chunks of bread were toasted to just this side of charred so that they stayed firm and chewy even when submerged in the broth. A generous topping of Comté cheese was richly flavorful and more than delivered on that sought-after cheese pull. I also loved the diminutive appetizer portion, which made continuing onto the main envisageable.
That said, I wish I hadn’t.
I’m not usually one to order fish in classic French bistros, seeing as it’s often the most expensive thing on the menu and drowning in some sort of butter sauce. But the fish of the day here seemed appetizing, served with Camargue red rice, eggplant, bell pepper, and fish bisque reduction. A pile of bitter greens seems to be one of the calling cards of this family of restaurants, seeing as something similar adorned my leek-vinaigrette at Dubillot, but I’m not usually one to complain about more salad.
That said, I do have some bones to pick with this dish, the first of which is that the salad – much like the rice below it – was heinously over-salted. This seems like a one-time error, so I won’t linger over it too long. What really did it for me was the very conception of the garniture, the rice-veggie concoction so overcooked it had been transformed into a savory gruel. Each grain of that lovely, nutty red rice had exploded, and the resulting mush was studded hither and thither with eggplant pieces, most of which I can only assume had melted into the amalgam of seafood bisque. The finishing touch seemed to be the grease that pooled around the edges of the plate. While the few forkfuls I took from the center proved that the bisque itself was tasty, and the garlic-heavy persillade on the side did quite a bit to add balance, overall, it was an unappetizing and unfortunate mess.
(The fish, however, was perfectly cooked.)
I’ll admit I may have gotten unlucky. My dining companion, after all, fared far better with her choice of the vegetarian dish of the day: A potato and celery root gratin with seasonal mushrooms, Jerusalem artichoke, and citrus beurre blanc. The balance of flavors here was on point, and the presentation far more appetizing and not nearly as busy. Especially given the way that French restaurants have historically fared in offering exciting options to vegetarians, this dish is laud-worthy on multiple counts.
Would I return? For that French onion soup, certainly. For a cocktail from the technicolor bar or a seat overlooking the historic passage, perhaps. But when it comes to the main, I’ll be far warier, perhaps erring on the side of more traditional fare, like steak-tartare, or sticking resolutely to the appetizers, which, whether here or at Dubillot, thus far have yet to disappoint.
Brasserie des Prés – 6, cour du Commerce Saint-André, 75006