I’ve been to le Maquis once before, right after it was selected as Le Fooding’s top bistro in Paris, known for its typical tiled floor, zinc bar, and red leather banquettes. Paul Boudier and Albert Touton (ex-Chateaubriand, Aux Deux Amis, Verre Volé) are in their element in this matchbox of a restaurant on a quiet street far from the nearby crowds of the more touristy area of Montmartre.
The lunchtime prix fixe is still a great deal focused on bistro classics, but at night, the formula has changed: a 55-euro no-choice prix fixe offers up delicious, artisan products served in convivial portions meant to share. (And by that, I do not mean shared small plates.) This is a copious offering – a steal, frankly, at the price. So do as I did and grab your favorite adventurous omnivores before digging in.
Our meal began with an amuse-bouche: a steamed langoustine, delivered in pairs in bamboo steaming baskets. While accompanied by a habanero mayonnaise, we opted to enjoy the briny langoustines on their own: They were so fresh, so redolent with the aroma of the sea. (The mayonnaise was not lost – we simply dragged crusts of delicious sourdough through it until there was no more.
Our first appetizer was a bass carpaccio served with pomelo, nori, green radish, and yuzu kosho, a fermented Japanese seasoning made with yuzu rind and chile. (There was a lot of chile on this menu, and I was not unhappy about it. Considering the considerable amount of citrus atop the ultra-fresh fish, this dish was surprisingly incredibly well-balanced – and the two sweet lobes of uni were more than welcome. (Does uni come in lobes? I’m second-guessing myself now.)
Our second appetizer (oh yes) appeared teeny at first: a small tangle of pork belly and herbs spiked with Espelette pepper was served to each diner.
Then, however, a beautiful tureen of brothy soup was served for us to portion out among ourselves, a refreshing revisiting of more classic tableside service.
As the French would say… on a joué le jeu.
The soup was delightful, with massive white beans, carrots, and cabbage. It’s exactly the sort of thing we needed given the bitterly cold temperatures Paris has been enjoying (?) of late.
The main was served in a similar fashion: Each of our individual plates came with a perfect slice of crispy pommes Anna.
The middle of the table, meanwhile, welcomed a massive skillet of poulet chasseur, a sort of chicken cacciatore à la française with mushrooms and a rich gravy, speckled with fresh chervil and tarragon. (I particularly enjoyed the livers and hearts, which were left in!)
For an additional eight euros, we splurged on a cheese plate to split. As has become the fashion of late, there was just one fromage on offer, a Cantal entre-deux served in gauzy slices with even more of that phenomenal sourdough.
Two desserts followed: a quenelle of mango sorbet with tandoori spices and meringue, which was light and refreshing. (And served in gorgeous golden bowls.)
And to finish, a silky crème caramel topped with even more pepper. I ate every bite, and I’m not even a crème caramel fan.
I’ll be the first to say that Le Maquis isn’t for everyone. While the chefs can take certain allergies into account, the menu is fixed and served to the whole table in its entirety. Vegetarians and picky eaters will not be happy here. But if you want to be pleasantly surprised by a copious offering reminiscent of being invited over to your French next-door-neighbor’s house – if that neighbor were a talented, trained chef – well, Le Maquis might well be your new neighborhood fave.
Le Maquis – 53 rue du Cloys, 75018 Paris