#cafe-francois

#cafe-francois

"The recipes that you have as a child are very powerful, they are very visceral. They stay with you, too. I remember many recipes, but certainly one of them, when my mother used to go to the garden just before we ate, and unearthed those tiny potatoes we called grenaille in France, which are like a fingerling potato."

Henry Harris describes his experience as the head chef and co-owner of Bouchon Racine as 'my most favourite three years of cooking and restaurant ownership.' He emphasizes the importance of creating a space where guests feel 'loved and valued'.

"I'm certain some wonderful store-bought brands of duck confit may exist, but, in my experience, the homemade product is always more tender and moist."

As a European immigrant in New York City, I remember a time, at least 20 years ago, when American bread and pastries, bagels aside, felt nearly inedible. Sourdough was not a thing. Croissants or any kind of viennoiseries were a punchline. There were regional specialties, sure, but broadly speaking, bread culture in New York was bleak.

Past a sign for a family waterpark, a door opens onto an homage to fin-de-siècle Paris. Chandeliers are reflected in gilt-edged mirrors; there is a chorus line of lobsters and yards of fromage. Every so often, a waiter in a dinner suit flambées a crepe Suzette with a shock of flames, like a big top fire-eater. This is fine dining as buffet.

Styling by Axelle using fashion by Nazarene Amictus, Victoria Amerson Design GmbH, Mossi, and Vintage pieces. The assistant stylist is Evan. The series explores the idea of haste and unintentional disorder in Paris, the moment when you rush downstairs, almost forgetting your trousers, because every minute counts. This sense of urgency, this I don't have time, becomes an aesthetic language. In Paris, style isn't calculated, and yet, nothing is ever left to chance.

I Googled - probably not the wisest thing to Google, even 15 years ago - 'how to get paid to go to Europe.' That's when I found out I could become an au pair. I flew to Madrid in the summer of 2013 and worked as an au pair for four months, and I loved it.

I love a rich chocolate ganache, which is usually a blend of sugar, heavy cream, dark chocolate, and salt. The ganache in this particular cake slice is ganache cream that layers the cake. I like the richness of the cream and the appearance of the chocolate layer on top. The cream is denser and more flavorful in the Ganache Cream than in the two previous cakes, too.

Paris didn't invent shopping (even if it sometimes feels that way), but it arguably invented the specialty shop as we understand it today. Long before concept stores, lifestyle retail, or anything resembling "curation" entered the vocabulary, Paris was already organized around doing one thing extremely well -and it still is. From cheesemongers to winemakers and beyond, specialization remains the point.

Belleville has always been a little bit rowdy, whether it meant to be or not. Long before it was folded into Paris in 1860, it existed as its own working-class wine village perched on a hill, slightly removed from the city both geographically and ideologically. In recent years, as Paris's 10th and 11th arrondissements have slid fully into hipster territory, and even the gritty Barbès neighborhood feels increasingly polished, Belleville has held onto its identity with surprising resolve.

A consistently packed bistro along the Seine in the Marais, Le Petit Célestin delivers reliable French classics in a lively atmosphere that values conviviality over culinary ambition. The menu spans traditional bistro territory - tête de veau, veal kidneys, steak frites - with occasional Italian influences like burrata and linguini with bottarga. The cooking is competent rather than inspired. Razor clams arrive properly garlicky, steak shows good char against rare interior, but some dishes lean too sweet.

The streets around the Louvre have improved considerably as a dining destination. It's still true that the neighborhood rewards those who know where to look - the blocks immediately adjacent to the museum are thick with tourist traps - but a short walk in almost any direction opens up genuinely good options.

Once an independent commune, Montmartre was absorbed into the city limits of Paris in 1860, but the hilltop village has always retained a distinct sense of self. Famed for its religious, artistic, and at times seedy history, the neighborhood has drawn the likes of Picasso, Renoir, and hopelessly devoted Francophiles like myself with its bucolic charm, iconic lampposts, steep steps, and panoramic views.

Suddenly, a strange, loud, rhythmic, prolonged noise, like the dying moan of an organ, then the dying wail of the breeze sighing in the cloisters, struck the indignant ears of the nuns with astonishment. The nuns all turned to stare at Sister Agnès, who in her embarrassment, tripped and let fly a spoonful of her chou pastry dough into a pot of boiling fat, and the doughnut-like pet de nonne, 'nun's fart' was born.

Chef Masa Ikuta brings serious classical training honed under Bruno Verjus at Table and Stephane Jego at L'Ami Jean to his own tasting menu restaurant in the 11th arrondissement. The cooking is confidently French-Japanese, moving from sardine churros with Cantabrian anchovy cream to veal brain tempura styled after shirako to a perfectly grilled lamb rack with smoky harissa.

The cooking is unpretentious and generous—big flavors, careful balance, no tweezers—at prices that feel increasingly rare in Paris. Standout dishes include a pheasant tourte with Morteau sausage and girolles, roasted beets with smoked eel and horseradish cream, and wild duck with a Porto jus and roasted parsnips.

Israeli chef Assaf Granit shifts focus from Mediterranean cooking to Eastern European Jewish cuisine at Boubalé, located in the Grand Mazarin hotel steps from BHV. The menu draws on Ashkenazi traditions - borscht, chicken liver, pastrami, and potato-forward preparations inspired by Granit's Polish grandmother. The vast dining room manages warmth through maximalist touches: doilies, colorful glassware, and grandmother-approved murals. Standout dishes include salmon floating in borscht with pickled turnips, Israeli couscous risotto with spinach, and an exceptional chocolate mousse drizzled with olive oil.

Live-fire cooking defines Robert et Louise, a Marais institution where beef, lamb, and duck sizzle over an open fireplace in the ground-floor dining room. The wood-fired approach delivers generous portions at moderate prices - most mains stay under 30€, with classic French bistro fare like blood sausage, grilled lamb chops, and charred steak. The main floor centers on a crackling brick fireplace where meat cooks directly over flame.