One French expression I love is dans son jus. Technically meaning “in its juice,” it’s an idiom that refers to something old that has not been refurbished, restored, or upgraded. It eludes strict translation, but when it comes to bistros, it definitely evokes other descriptors: Humble. Honest. No-frills. All of which are words I’d use to describe le Normandie, an unassuming bistro on the far side of the butte Montmartre.
This neighborhood is tourist central, and as such, most of its bistros serve middling to poor fare at exorbitant prices. Not so at le Normandie, which is breaking with the norm with slightly modernized spins on bistro classics are served at some of the most reasonable prices I’ve seen in Paris of late.
The first surprise happens when you pass through the front door. The old-fashioned façade looks more like a dusty PMU than a creative neo-bistro. Ça paie pas de mine, as they’d say – it doesn’t look like much. And yet once you push through the door, you’ll come face-to-face with loads of glorious, old-school details, from the beautiful tiled floor to the glowing wooden bar to a line of wine bottles – some natural, some not – with their prices inscribed in white marker right on the glass.
The dining room at le Normandie is teeny, and pleasantly so. As is the menu, it’s of the short-and-sweet variety, and I don’t say that lightly. Just three appetizers, two mains, and two desserts are joined by a cheese selection, and that’s all she wrote. The apps are 8 or 9 euros, and the mains just 19 – one fish, one meat. As a result, when dining recently with a friend, we got to try almost everything.
This trio of gambas (9) were ostensibly pan-cooked, but they nevertheless boasted a lovely touch of smokiness, as though grilled over an open flame. They were served on a bed of slow-cooked seasonal eggplant and garnished with a drizzle of parsley oil. One bite revealed them as plump, sweet, and perfectly moist.
I went gaga for the house-made terrine (9) served with a double dose of pickles: cornichons and guindillas. The terrine itself was almost juicy, with a lovely burnished top from its time in the oven. It was also such a consequential portion I couldn’t finish it, and the kitchen genially packed it up for me to take home.
Unfortunately, the bread, while served in a pretty cloth basket, was fairly dry – perhaps from the day before? I’ll chalk it up to Mondays in August and won’t hold it against them.
Especially considering how much I adored this veal onglet (19), which was served perfectly charred on the inside and rosy within. Ultra tender and full of flavor, it had an almost offal-like depth I really enjoyed, especially when paired with the thin yet flavorful gravy and the perfectly al dente carrots. A sprinkle of green onion added a touch of vibrancy to the dish, and I suspect the sauce may have been infused with a touch of ginger, which was more than welcome.
My friend was a bit less thrilled with her salmon dish (19), which saw a behemoth of a fillet paired with a generous portion of both new potatoes and green beans, all sitting pretty in a creamy lemon-butter sauce. I tried the salmon, and while the flesh was perfectly cooked, the skin was a touch flabby – a shame. My friend’s criticism, however, had to do more with the richness of the sauce, which was nevertheless as it should be… if you want something as rich as a lemon-butter sauce.
At the end of the day, the issue here wasn’t one of technicity or even flavor, but one of choice. Given the lack thereof, it ‘s tough to come here with picky eaters. (Especially seeing as towards the end of the night, the veal dish was 86ed.) That said, the genial staff approaches American levels of accommodation, allowing, for example, a neighboring table to order a hodgepodge of appetizers in lieu of a main.
For dessert, we opted to share the crème citron (8), which turned out to be a mashup of a crème brûlée and lemon curd. Bright and tangy with just the right amount of caramelization on top, it conquered us both and proved the perfect ending to a richer bistro meal.
I have a real soft spot for this pocket of a restaurant quietly cooking things just right. It’s not the sort of place I’d cross Paris for, but that’s part of its charm. Instead, it’s the ideal neighborhood joint, perfect for dinner or, indeed, an even more reasonable prix fixe lunch (just just 17 euros for two courses or 20 for three). It’s a tough sell for pickier diners, but if you’re as omnivorous as I am, you’re sure to find your bliss.
Le Normandie – 13, rue Custine, 75018