Central Paris’ Les Halles neighborhood gets its name from the massive city-within-a-city of markets that once stood here. Dating back as far as the Middle Ages, the market district truly hit its stride when the 12th-century Halles, built by Philip Augustus, were replaced by the glass-and-iron covered market structure designed by Victor Baltard in the 1850s. While this market was dismantled in the late ’60s and early ’70s due to congestion and rodentia, the area is still home to a host of the sorts of 24-hour restaurants that once catered to the forts des Halles, the “strong men” charged with unloading wares in what Emile Zola called “the Belly of Paris.”
(Where the market once stood, you’ll also still find loads of delicious pastry shops – many of which are at the heart of my Paris’ Pastry Paradise tour. And despite the demolition of the Baltard markets of the 2nd, there’s still one in the 10th, where I offer food tours and cheese tastings.)
But you’re here to hear about beef.
La Cloche des Halles was once the sort of typical local bistro known for dishes like charcuterie plates or French onion soup. Its namesake bell is ostensibly where we get the French word clochard from: The poor and destitute would wait until the bell tolled to signal the end of the market and the beginning of a period when they might scavenge for leftover bits. These days, the slang word clochard translates to tramp or vagrant.
The new Cloche has departed entirely from any of these previous connotations, offering an array of upscale brasserie-inspired dishes in a small, dimly-lit dining room scattered with white-tablecloth-draped tables and chairs of the exact Art Déco green that so inspired Hector Guimard’s emblematic métro entrances. While the space is dominated by a beautiful bar, the cocktails are pretty terrible. The food, however, is lovely.
We started with two appetizers, one of which, the leek-vinaigrette (16), is apparently the house signature – and unsurprisingly so. Super-sweet leeks sit in a puddle of sesame-spiked vinaigrette and oil infused with the allium funk of the green leek tops. Scattered with crunchy toasted hazelnuts and a generous chervil topping, the dish was particularly lovely paired with the baguette de tradition brought in half-loaves to the table, a touch I loved for the way it incites the convivial ripping of chunks to enjoy.
A copious Caesar salad (15) was also tasty, pairing fresh and braised little gem lettuce with a well-made Caesar dressing and crunchy house-made croutons. A generous shower of Parmesan was the perfect finishing touch.
It should be clear just from looking at the main dishes on offer that the way to go here is beef: A wagyu smashburger with French onion soup sauce (29) is joined by a bourguignon en croûte – a house creation mashing up beef bourguignon and beef Wellington (29). But I couldn’t resist the black angus entrecôte au poivre, with a creamy four-pepper sauce spiked with sake, soy, and mirin.
The richly flavored steak was perfectly seared on the outside and rare within, and the sauce was ultra-flavorful, ideally paired with house-made French fries, included with the steak, or 5-euro supplement as a side.
(Though I must beg restaurants to stop serving fries this way. It makes them soggy.)
Unfortunately, the vegetarian main of rigatoni alla vodka (22) was comparatively disappointing, with undercooked pasta and too little of the promised cayenne to add depth or panache to the otherwise fairly standard tomato cream sauce.
Despite this disappointing stumble, Cloche lands the desserts. Almost. The ultra-caramelized tarte Tatin (9) is absolutely lovely, though the promised orange blossom-infused “Chantilly” was nothing of the sort, a puddle of watery cream, albeit scented with the promised floral aroma.
The crêpe Suzette (16) was ostensibly flambéed with Mezcal, though this happens in the kitchen rather than tableside. I did love the crispy brûlée finishing touch, which added a satisfyingly crisp texture to the soft crêpes. But you’d think that either that or the Mezcal would lend some smokiness to this dessert, which I found a bit lacking. Divorced of the on-menu promises, however, both desserts were delicious.
Ultimately, I found Cloche to be more of a vibe than a destination: a beautiful dining room with a handful of standouts. It’s perhaps a bit expensive for what it is, especially given the locale, but it’s still a fun place to bring the viandards (meat lovers) in your life for a quintessentially contemporary Parisian experience.
Cloche – 28, rue Coquillere, 75001