Café des Ministères is exactly what one hopes for from a classic French bistro – the kind that has become thin on the ground in Paris in recent years. The menu is stocked with once-ubiquitous dishes with old-school panache: Think puff pastry vol au vent filled with your choice of lamb or veal sweetbreads or lobster, Hemingway’s favorite herring with potatoes, or the calf’s head former president Jacques Chirac famously ate in nearly every village he visited. The affable, friendly front-of-house team is quick with a joke (notably concerning the size of the award-winning cabbage and one’s ability to tuck into both that and dessert. Don’t worry, I managed. Kind of.)
From our cozy table by the window hidden behind a pillar bedecked with no small array of metal plaques evoking membership to, among others, the Association de sauvegarde de l’oeuf-mayonnaise, my dining companion mused that the egg-mayo, one of the tamer-looking appetizers on a list governed mainly by offal, had better be fairly extraordinary to secure its spot. It was indeed an excellent iteration of perhaps the most modest of bistro staples: A perfectly cooked hard-boiled egg was generously topped with mustard-spiked mayonnaise and settled atop a green salad (one of the only green vegetables of the night).
The slab o’ boudin noir, meanwhile, was certainly impressive, both in size and in the preponderance of hunks of white fat. Alas, the blood sausage, served cold, was a bit underseasoned, and was saved, thankfully, by a tureen of honey mustard (of which I consumed perhaps more than my fair share, given the current shortage. I regret nothing.)
This may have been one of the rare occasions where the mains stood out more than the starters. The foie gras-stuffed cabbage, recently crowned Champion of France, was a thing of beauty. Flavorsome and ultra-rich (thank goodness for doggy bags), it was more than enough to share.
So, too, was the vol au vent, which is thankfully available, at least in veal form, in either a whole or half-portion. Even the latter is dressed with a veritable tumble of perfectly cooked sweetbreads and mushrooms in a rich cream sauce. A small pile of spinach is a nice touch that somehow keeps the pastry from going too soggy by the time you reach the plate. (And believe me, I did, sopping up any excess sauce with the delicious sourdough).
I was far too full for dessert, but I’m glad I indulged anyway. The towering pavlova was topped with a generous scoop of chestnut ice cream and a cloud of Chantilly, all wading in a pool of clementine purée whose bitterness proved more than welcome… and somehow paved enough room for me to finish the whole thing.
A glass of Pineau served from the wooden drinks cart may have been a more reasonable way to finish, but then again, I’ve never been accused of being a reasonable person.
Located an easy walk from the Eiffel Tower, Café des Ministères is the sort of place I wish were my very own well-kept secret. Indeed, if only it were easier to get into, it might run the risk of becoming a regular haunt. As it is, it’s a worthy special-occasion address perfect for carnivores looking for excellent iterations of old school dishes that seem to have evaporated from modernist menus.
Café des Ministères – 83 Rue de l’Université, 75007