I have known many permutations of Le Saint-Sébastien, a lovely little restaurant in the 11th I first visited back when it opened in 2018. From my very first meal there, it was clear that this was a special place: cozy and welcoming with just the right amount of gravitas thanks to the professional staff who did everything in their power to make you feel at home and cared for. The kitchen, then helmed by Robert Mendoza, reliably turned out gorgeous, delicious plates that looked like works of art. Subtle Mexican twists dotted the menu, which worshipped plants and got creative with offal.
A few years later, the kitchen passed into the capable hands of former sous-chef Chris Edwards, an Australian chef with a passion for French fare. The dining room remained unchanged in its adherence to conviviality and service, but the kitchen began to slowly embrace the art of charcuterie and an even more deeply explore a locavore mindset. Chef Chris often took advantage of spent grain from Deck & Donohue, the brewery owned by Thomas Deck, who is married to Le Saint-Sébastien’s owner and founder Daniela Lavadenz, to craft crackers he served with house-made pâtés; he upcycled bread scraps into ice cream, and he took full advantage of the produce and poultry supplied by local agroforestry farm les Monts Gardés.
And now, the baton has passed once more to Chef Chris’ sous-chef, Andres Reyes Solis. And it’s still as wonderful as it ever was.
Chef Andres has made a few tweaks to the menu, infusing some of the dishes with Mexican chiles. Such was the case of the wow-worthy amuse bouche: a pickled length of white asparagus that was battered and fried tempura-style for one of the more moreish amuses I’ve had the pleasure to try of late. It was paired with a small shot of aguachile that was a far better apéritif than most traditional offerings, opening the palate and getting me ready for more.
I couldn’t resist the hand-cut steak tartare (17) seasoned gently with chile de arbol. I loved the addition of crispy lentils, which added a lovely texture to the dish, and the subtle smokiness of the mayonnaise hiding beneath. I tried to eat slowly, but by the end, I was swiping the plate clean with Ten Belles sourdough and wishing I’d lingered even longer over this dish.
The menu at le Saint-Sébastien has long boasted an intriguing vegetarian option – in this case, an Austrian-inspired dumpling dish made from spent beer malt (27). The homey dumplings were seasoned generously with alliums in many forms and crowned with a goat cheese foam that gave it fine dining allure, despite being pure comfort food on the plate. I wasn’t wholly convinced by the presence of bok choi, whose texture I didn’t love, (and that’s saying something for this vegetable lover), but the flavors were on point, and I scooped up every last mouthful.
For dessert, I hewed to the counsel of my Anglophone server (everyone here speaks English, fwiw, making them the perfect people to offer advice on everything from the menu to the 400-bottle-strong wine list of often rare gems). She suggested I go for the bay-infused cake (13), which was tender and rich and paired with the most luscious Arbequina olive oil ice cream. The flavor of the oil was absolutely unreal: vegetal and almost minty. I devoured this dessert happily alongside a glass of Champagne chosen by Daniela herself.
These days, Parisian restaurants can prove quite changeable. A place I love one day can get a total facelift the next, and whether it’s an improvement or not, it makes it hard for me to recommend it without returning. What I love so much about le Saint-Sébastien is how true it’s remained to itself over the years, no matter who’s in charge of the kitchen. Here, expertise is palpable, conviviality reigns, and you can feel the love. Clients are truly cared for, here, whether at a table or, in the case of yours truly, in their favorite seat at the bar.
Le Saint-Sébastien – 42, rue Saint-Sébastien, 75011