Disclaimer: I was a guest of the property for this meal.
I was raised in a no-TV household (with the exception of Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood),but what we lacked in cartoons, we more than made up for in long-forgotten musicals on VHS. One of our favorites was Vincente Minnelli’s 1958 Gigi, an adaptation of the short story by Colette starring Leslie Caron as the eponymous demi-mondaine (aka upscale prostitute) who conquers the heart of Louis Jourdain’s Gaston through her childlike demeanor, all set to music sung, in large part, by Maurice Chevallier.
(They really don’t make ’em like they used to.)
Set at the turn of the 20th century, the film hops around the France of the well-heeled belle époque from Paris to Honfleur and back. One of the most iconic scenes in the French capital is undoubtedly the moment Gigi and Gaston enter Maxim’s to a flurry of gossip – and that makes sense. This restaurant evolved in 1893 from an ice cream parlor to a bistro and finally, in 1899, to a flamboyant Art Nouveau institution tailor-made for playboys who, as Franz Lehar’s song says, bring many women, but never their wives.
At the turn of the century, Maxim’s was ze place to be, as the French would say… and last night, I finally went there for the first time.
I’m not the only long-time Parisian to have elided a visit to this institution in my 16 years here. Despite long attracting famed visitors from Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis to Jane Birkin to Salvador Dali, Maxim’s had fallen off the radar of many locals, including luxury tour guide Anya Firestone, who tells the New York Times that she didn’t even realize it was still a restaurant. After over 30 years of Pierre Cardin’s ownership, hospitality group the Paris Society took over operations in November, and the restaurant seems poised to regain its status as a destination for those looking to see and be seen. Eager to see for myself, I dusted off my fanciest lace dress and made my way over to the 8th.
Maxim’s underwent slight refurbishment last year, thanks to Cordélia de Castellane, the artistic adviser at Paris Society, but it thankfully retains much of its belle époque charm, with stained glass and velvet upholstery. A stage in the middle of the dining room hosts regular music acts – on my visit, an Anglophone band in suits and ties were crooning classic love ballads, while waiters in white jackets moved about the room with the ease of dancers.
We were settled in at one of many tables up against the wall, which would have afforded one of us a great view if not for these cute little lamps, which I admittedly found a bit glaring. (Is that a sign of my age? My sister would certainly say so… but I digress.)
Seeing as I had the choice seat with a view, I was able to observe the room filling up: Nearly empty at 8pm on a Wednesday, by 9 it was teeming with a blend of fashionistas, tourists, and groups of those looking to impress their guests. Fashions have, of course, changed (no more ballgowns), but I was surprised and a bit disappointed to find myself slightly on the overdressed side, for while some men came in jackets and some women came in glittery tops and dresses, many guests turned up in leggings or jeans – and this despite a dress code communicated via email before your arrival.
Our meal began with a plate of gougères delivered almost the moment we’d sat down to peruse the menu. Maxim’s has been recognized for its food on and off over the years, once boasting three Michelin stars. While original announcements of the refurbishment pegged Chef Jean Imbert, former Top Chef winner, as the one to helm the kitchens, his name is no longer attached to the menu of slightly revitalized French classics. (And celebrity pastry chef Yann Couvreur, who had originally designed the pastry menu, quietly made his quick exit at the end of 2023.)
The gougères were in alignment with the promise of revitalized French food. While served cold, they were absolutely delicious, eggy and cheesy and perfectly cooked.
They’re also the perfect pair for the apéritifs here, whether a coupe of Champagne or a signature cocktail, all of which are named after former regulars. The Mistinguett, made with vodka, rose, litchi, Chambord, and Champagne, was light and sweet with an ethereal egg white froth on top.
The bread service soon followed, with mini baguettes and a tasty, treacle-y country bread. Given how quickly the bread came to the table, long before the appetizer, I admit I was a bit surprised to find no butter to accompany it, but the music had begun by then, and I was quickly swept up into the atmosphere.
We opted to share two appetizers to begin, and our server gamely brought sharing plates without our even having to ask. The cheese soufflé was a perfect iteration of the classic, cheesy and perfectly caramelized around the edges.
It was accompanied by a small bowl of frisée dressed lightly with pleasantly tart vinaigrette, the combo of acidity and bitterness the ideal accompaniment for the richness of the soufflé.
We also ordered the “wild” mushroom tart, though the mushrooms used seemed to be of the simple champignon de Paris (button mushroom) variety. Wildness aside, the tart itself was delicious, boasting a crisp pastry base made with layers of phyllo sandwiched with butter topped with a sautéed mushroom duxelles and finished with paper-thin slices of raw mushroom. A buttery sauce infused with what tasted like a mushroom stock completed the dish wonderfully.
Maxim’s, as I hope I’ve made clear thus far, is known above all for a spectacle, so it was a no-brainer to order the sole – not meunière, but rather Albert, which is to say cooked in vermouth. Presented and filleted tableside, the sole was served with a grenobloise topping of capers, lemon, and butter-fried croutons.
This was undoubtedly the best dish we ate all night: perfectly cooked, perfectly seasoned, and perfectly served. It encapsulates what Maxim’s does so well in its adherence to the tenets of classic French cuisine… and to the spectacle of tableside service.
I was hoping a similar stalwart – frog’s legs – would also blow me out of the water. In spite of what stereotypes may have you believe, frogs’ legs are actually fairly rare on Parisian menus these days, and I was excited to give them a try. Our server was more than willing to let me order this appetizer as a main, and it arrived redolent with garlic, which was scattered in crispy chips over the top of the lightly floured legs. Unfortunately, while perfectly cooked and wonderfully aromatic, these legs were totally bland. (I think the kitchen may have plumb forgotten the salt.)
If they were looking for it, they might have found it in this cassolette of spinach and mushrooms, which accompanied the sole and was just this side of overseasoned. At this point, our server had also forgotten about us entirely, so it was impossible to get any more water. (The slow/aloof service is one of the biggest critiques I’ve seen of this restaurant, and it proved a palpable and unfortunate reality.)
The mashed potatoes, which we ordered as an extra side dish, were nevertheless perfect.
For dessert, we decided to order yet another tableside French classic: crêpes suzette.
As someone who’s not the biggest fan of orange-scented desserts, I can still vouch for this as a standout. The boozy orange sauce and orange segments accompanied the pillowy crêpes perfectly.
Of course, you shouldn’t be surprised that I was even more bowled over by the tarte Tatin, with its generous layer of apples and thick, burnished caramel sauce. The oh-so-crispy base was, once more, made from layers of phyllo, and while part of me wondered if this was an indication that there’s no in-house pastry chef, I actually really liked the departure from tradition. And the quenelle on top was unsweetened raw cream, which added just the right lactic twist and balance to the sweet tart.
So what’s my verdict? The short answer is… I’m not sure. I wish the service were a bit more present – not effusive or American, by any means, but just… there. The food, when good, is very, very good. Is it the best meal you’ll ever eat? Not by a long shot. And is it worth the price, at somewhere between 16 and 33 euros for an appetizer and 34 to a whopping 78 for an (unshared) main? (I’m not counting the 26-euro “seasonal veggie” sauté, despite at least being a nod to vegetarians.)
I think that at the end of the day, this is the perfect spot for the see-and-be-seen crowd; a Parisian answer, perhaps, to Tavern on the Green. It’s the place to drink Champagne out of crystal coupes and to watch as experienced servers carve a whole chicken to share right before your very eyes. For as long as Maxim’s considers itself more of a lieu than a restaurant, it’s a fine facsimile of what it always has been – and with that in mind, the renovation of the storied space has restored everything that has long made Maxim’s so beloved by Parisians.
Maxim’s – 3 rue Royale, 75008
as Ppe le pew would say…Ahhh..l’amour!