I used to be a fairly frequent flier at Frenchie Bar à Vins. It was the perfect blend of laid-back and special, the ideal place to grab a glass of wine, split a few small plates, and know that it was always going to satisfy. On my first visit, it conquered my heart; on the second, despite a menu overhaul, it remained true.
But I’m not sure the wine bar is doing it for me anymore.
I should be clear that most of the reason I no longer hold Frenchie so close to my heart is, indeed, its popularity. Given its no-reservations policy, it’s always been a tough table to get; I used to turn up right when it opened in an effort to secure a seat. But once I got settled into my high stool at a shared table, I always felt looked after, with bilingual service that was forever impeccable.
On this most recent visit, a few things had changed – some of which, it must be said, had to do with me. I turned up, for instance, at 8pm (on a Wednesday), which meant waiting was mandatory. Rue du Nil is far from an unpleasant street to wait on, and the servers were allowing folks to grab glasses to enjoy outside. But once inside, the service felt, in a word, rushed. I got the sense that they wanted that table flipped fast – an encouragement for indigestion if ever there was one, and something I rarely encounter in Paris.
The food, it must be said, remains good. We started with a dish of house-smoked ricotta (14 euro) paired with pear and tarragon zabaglione. This dish was originally meant to be topped with buckwheat, which they were kind enough to leave off and replace with timut pepper. I enjoyed the dish, especially when paired with the house bread, though my dining companion found it a touch on the sweet side. It would, however, prove to be indicative of a tendency towards cream and fat and richness that, over the course of a whole meal, was a bit over the top.
Our next dish, gougères, were served with a generous dusting of tomme de brebis, and while hazelnut praline was promised, I certainly didn’t identify any. They were good, and the filling of even more cheese in cream form was a nice – and unexpected – touch, but they don’t hold a candle to my favorites at Le Grand Bain.
The next dish was my hands-down favorite of the night – and sat in the category where Frenchie Wine Bar seems to truly shine time and again: upscale mashups of Anglo-American comfort food. Much like the Scotch egg that stole my heart all those years ago, this Buffalo veal sweetbreads dish (22 euro) was creative and surprising, not to mention tasty.
Perfectly fried, generous morsels of sweetbreads were breaded, fried, and served in a pool of tangy blue cheese labneh. The buffalo sauce afforded the perfect blend of spice and acidity, and the chive oil added a fresh, delicious touch. Honestly, I can say nothing bad about this dish.
At this point, our table was growing quite full, and pacing proved to be an issue. We were starting to feel rushed by the servers, and when we neglected to order a second glass of wine, were promptly ignored.
Look, I get it: It’s a busy, popular spot. But it’s also pricier than other similar spots, and while I can understand the “move along” mentality at a place like Bouillon Pigalle (which I love, by the way), I don’t like feeling rushed through my 22-euro sweetbreads or my 17-euro white asparagus with smoked hollandaise (no red onion, despite what the menu says).
So… is Frenchie still delicious? Yes. Is it rich and decadent? Also yes. Would I go back? Maybe – early in the evening, for a plate or two, on the way to somewhere else. But honestly, several years later, there are a lot of places for great small plates where one feels significantly less rushed.
Maybe I need a vibe check. Maybe this is a me problem. Maybe Frenchie just isn’t a spot for lingering.
But at these prices… I want to linger.
Frenchie Wine Bar – 5 Rue du Nil, 75002