It’s almost impossible to talk about the Parisian dining scene these days without evoking the portemanteau that is bistronomy, a mashup of bistro cuisine and fine gastronomy that emerged in the ’90s thanks to a handful of chefs, including Yves Camdeborde, suffusing the then-tired category of the comfort food bistro with some fine dining influences. Resulting dishes shrank considerably in serving size and were often jazzed up with luxe ingredients and flavors from afar, all the while maintaining a link to their bistro roots.
These days, the line dividing a bistro from a restaurant is far hazier, as prices at the former soar and the latter foregoes the codes of linen tablecloths in favor of bare wood or stone. But when you stumble upon a true bistronomic restaurant, it can be pretty magical – and that’s what I found on a recent visit to Les Petits Parisiens, where upgraded comfort food is served in a lovely dining room kissed with bistro-inspired details like a wraparound zinc bar and tiled floors.
That this restaurant walks the bistronomic walk so well should come as no surprise: The former home to Camdeborde’s Régalade, the protoypical bistronomic restaurant, this spot run by a young, passionate team fulfills all of the promises made by the chef in 1992: serving authentic food in a convivial, simple, welcoming environment.
Gougères usher in that first welcome, puffy domes of perfectly cooked choux pastry redolent with cheesy goodness. We devoured these as we dug into the menu and paged through the consequential wine list, with 175 references including 14 by the glass.
Céleri remoulade (11) ticked the bistronomic boxes right out of the gate, with celeriac grated into whisper-thin fibers and tossed gently with a thinner remoulade that had all the flavor of the classic without so much stodge. It allowed the celery root to retain all of its freshness, especially when crowned with Granny Smith apple, smoked haddock, and a dusting of chive and Espelette pepper.
I’ve never had mackerel quite as flaky as this char-grilled iteration (14) served with a mustard-spiked potato salad and little blobs of raw cream infused with a generous amount of black pepper. Pickled onion and mustard seeds brought even more welcome acidity to the rich fish.
Farm-raised chicken with a vin jaune sauce (38) and Norman morel mushrooms was rich and flavorful, though it was unfortunately beset with the soggy skin problem so many of these classic French stewed chicken dishes have. The morels themselves were delicious and plentiful – we couldn’t even finish them. A side of rice soaked up all that luscious sauce, though crusty sourdough was an option as well.
I rarely order steak in a restaurant, seeing as it’s something I cook well, but I’m have a hard time saying no to a good au poivre sauce, and this one (25) did not disappoint.
Richly peppery and absolutely loaded with butter, it was the ideal accompaniment to the perfectly rare steak.
Instead of fries, this steak came with a small vessel of pommes mitraille, sweet baby potatoes that had been halved and confited in even more fat. I couldn’t finish them, but I did do a bit of poking around to fish out all of the lusciously caramelized garlic cloves.
We had absolutely no space left for dessert, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to forego these offerings. Apple tart (12) saw a thin pastry base topped with an even thinner layer of perfectly cooked apples. Redolent with butter, this warm base was crowned with a quenelle of calvados ice cream that basically tasted like Norman cider in dessert form.
A homey cassole of rice pudding (10), meanwhile, married perfectly toothsome grains of rice with vanilla, toasted nuts…
…and a warm salted caramel sauce so luscious and rich that even once I’d been defeated by the pudding, I seriously considered dipping my bread into the little white pitcher.
On a Thursday night, this restaurant was relatively calm, with just a handful of tables filled with mainly locals. The service was excellent, from the welcome we received upon arriving a half an hour (!) early for our reservation to the genuine offer to box up the rest of our desserts when we had been defeated to the genial interplay with a neighboring table having a hard time making a choice.
It’s these small details that make all the difference – and that cement my opinion that this spot is one to return to again and again.
Les Petits Parisiens – 49, avenue de Jean Moulin, 75014