I’ve really been enjoying the arrival of almost ludicrously inexpensive restaurant options in Paris of late, from the instigator – Bouillon Pigalle’s now-iconic 1.90 egg-mayo – to Fellows’ 9-euro pastas. The portions are just generous enough to leave you sated without relying on the small plates trope, and the service is just genial enough to feel like you’re at a restaurant rather than un fast-food. It’s a worthy replacement for the questionable trend of la street food, which is about as un-French as can be. And I’m here for it.
Truth be told, the preponderance of cheap restaurants in Paris isn’t so much an arrival as a re-vival – a resurgence of a style of dining long popular in Paris. Instead of street food, the French capital has long been home to all sorts of places where you can eat cheaply, from the egg-mayo and French onion soup of the bouillon to the jambon-beurre and croque monsieur of the café counter. And there’s perhaps nowhere that best bridges the gap between old and new than Le Mansart.
This buzzy Pigalle café is a near-calque of the classic, albeit with a few more modern touches. The stools at the counter feel more diner than café, to me, and the slight international touches on the menu, from satay sauce to Padrón peppers, feel self-awarely rooted in 2024. But it’s also at Le Mansart that I’ve found perhaps the best version of a tradition Paris has long done so well: la formule.
Lunchtime in Paris admittedly is no stranger to this sort of prix fixe, which is one of my favorite ways to pay a first visit to Michelin-starred establishments that would otherwise be a bit more of an investment. Everywhere from these gastronomic tables to corner cafés, most weekdays see a set menu on offer, featuring two or three courses, often with very little choice. (Indeed, often the main on offer with a lunchtime formule is the dish of the day – like it or not.)
But Le Mansart offers perhaps one of the most reasonable prix fixes this side of 1995: Here, you can get two courses for 12 euro or three (plus a drink) for 15. And what’s more, it’s actually tasty.
On the day of my visit, there was choice of four appetizers (4.50 each hors menu), four mains (9), and four desserts (3). By my 1:15 arrival on this particular Monday, the place was rammed, particularly on the expansive outdoor terrace, with the clientèle representing a true slice of society. Middle aged women enjoying a lunchtime catchup sat side-by-side with a mother-daughter pair recapping the rentrée and a table jammed with uni students sharing plates of fries. But I was able to find a spot inside, in the dining room lined with a wall of mirrors, on which the dish of the day – tuna tataki with sweet potato – was inscribed in looping white marker.
The dish du jour was already sold out, so I dove into the semi-permanent offerings. After hemming and hawing over my first course choice – the entrée du jour of melon and lomo? The pairing of Padrón peppers with yogurt, lime, and chili oil? A play on a caesar with toasted parmesan, or a house-made pork terrine with pickles? – I ultimately erred in being captivated by the egg-mayo, which claimed to be seasoned with satay.
I suppose there was something vaguely peanutty about the mayonnaise adorning the eggs, and the sprinkle of red chile certainly added color, if not much flavor. And while the eggs were perfectly cooked, you could tell they weren’t of particularly good quality. The bread, however, was surprisingly awesome – treacly and very fresh. I wondered if it was impossible for a restaurant this cheap to deliver deliciousness, and I got ready to write it off.
And then the main came.
While steak tartare or rare beef onglet appeared to be the restaurant’s signature, appearing on pretty much every table alongside a pile of crispy pommes allumettes, on this nearly summery early September day, I was tempted by something lighter. I considered the vegetarian fragola all’arabbiata before ultimately zeroing in on the haddock brandade, and it did not disappoint.
The brandade was more potato than fish – for 9 euros, it was to be expected – but the choice to use generous flakes of flavorful haddock meant the balance was just right. Moreover, the generous presence of both dill and red onion lent lightness to what is usually a far stodgier dish. I loved this. (Though I’m definitely coming back for that tartare.)
All of the dessert offerings at Le Mansart are variations on a theme: house-made choux à la crème, or cream puffs, filled with your choice of plain cream, chocolate-hazelnut, or lemon-verbena. A filling of the day joins these more permanent offerings, but despite being a lover of all things chestnut, I went for the lighter option and was not disappointed.
The teeny chou was pleasantly overfilled with bright, tangy crémeux citron that dripped down the sides. Bright and vibrant, it was perfectly paired with a generous sprinkling of lemon verbena. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect post-prandial sweet than this puckery, three-bite dessert.
Come evening, Le Mansart ostensibly gets far more buzzy, as I know from experience its sister restaurant, Chez Jeanette, does. The latter, just 15 minutes’ walk from me, is a regular of mine for the criminally cheap glasses of Valentina Passalacqua’s natural wines, which feature on this menu as well.
The small plates menu that supplants the formule in the evening certainly looks appetizing, with boudin noir with sauce chien (8) and chicken karaage (6.5) joining what are sure to be more diminutive portions of the lunchtime offerings like tartare (7) or fregola (7) or more copious versions of the starters like Padrón peppers (5) egg mayo (6). But given the boisterous ambiance of Chez Jeanette in the evenings (and the reviews of Le Mansart I’ve read on TripAdvisor), I’ve got a feeling lunchtime is where it’s at – especially for this café lover, who ended up staying until 5:15pm to read, write, and exist in this liminal space that feels so quintessentially Parisian.
Le Mansart – 1, rue Mansart, 75009