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Restaurants Overview

A few years into the 21st century, the world's greatest food city-in historical terms at least -- has found a new sense of confidence. Paris has struggled in recent decades to live up to its lofty culinary reputation. In a country where nearly every professional cook must endure a grueling apprenticeship that values humility above all else, it hasn't been easy for chefs to choose their own paths. That might explain why iconic chef Alain Senderens of Lucas Carton waited until he was 65 years old to experience the equivalent of a teenage rebellion, transforming the Art Nouveau interior of his landmark restaurant and reinventing himself as a fusion cook. He is just one of many Paris chefs, young and old, who are thumbing their noses at the demanding French system and deciding to simply be themselves, whether that means opening a market-based bistro inspired by their grandmother's roast chicken and riz au lait or redefining haute cuisine.

When this decision comes from the heart, it's almost always a revelation. But it would be naive to think that a desire for self-expression is the only driving force behind the current changes; chefs have also realized that running an haute-cuisine restaurant, however successful, is a far from reliable way to make a living. At the upper echelons of Paris dining, chefs put themselves completely at the mercy of the economy and the guidebooks -- a position that calls for nerves, not just knives, of steel. By opening a bistro (or three) on the side, or by leaving that unforgiving world behind for something more relaxed, they are paving the way for a comfortable retirement. For Parisians and tourists alike, this development can only be good news, since it makes the cooking of geniuses such as Joël Robuchon and Pierre Gagnaire far more accessible than in the past (even if you are unlikely to glimpse these chefs in the kitchens of their lower-priced restaurants).

Like the chefs themselves, Paris diners are breaking away -- albeit cautiously -- from the tyranny of tradition. New restaurants and rapidly multiplying sandwich bars are recognizing that not everyone wants a three-course blow-out every time they go to a restaurant. The predictable entrée-plat-dessert pattern is changing thanks to pioneering chefs such as Robuchon. In his Atelier, the man once voted "chef of the 20th century" encourages dining on small or large portions, according to your appetite. His opening hours even suggest that it's okay to graze outside traditional mealtimes -- une révolution. (His latest restaurant, La Table de Joël Robuchon, retains the "small plates" concept but accepts reservations.) Taking a similar approach are Hélène Darroze, whose modern bistro annex serves tapas-style portions, and Alain Dutournier of Pinxo, who is slowly persuading Parisians to eat with their fingers and steal food off their companions' plates. Less radical are the many bistros offering two-course menus at lunch in an acknowledgment that the two-hour lunch has become a rare luxury.

Chefs are also developing a freer hand with spices, thanks to their experiences abroad and the changing tastes of their followers. And because Parisians themselves are more widely traveled than in the past, many ethnic restaurants -- notably the best North African, Vietnamese/Laotian, Chinese, Spanish, and Japanese spots -- are making fewer concessions to French tastes, resulting in far better food. (It's still not easy to find real ambassadors of Indian or Italian cuisine.)

Even as their palates grow more adventurous, however, the French are re-embracing terroir. Nothing illustrates this better than the purchase of the turn-of-the-century bistros Aux Lyonnais and Benoît by Alain Ducasse, founder of the Spoon, Food & Wine fusion chain. Never one to miss a trend, Ducasse knows that Parisians will always love regional food when it is prepared with care and served in a gorgeous setting.

The bistro boom is so big, in fact, that it has now invaded the haunts of haute cuisine. Even the most luxurious kitchens are getting back to the bedrock of French culinary traditions -- aka The Patrimony. Don't, therefore, be surprised to find grandmère's lamb with white beans on the carte at the superexpensive Le Bristol. Yet something else is going on: chefs, even at the highest level, no longer fear playfulness. Jean-François Piège, chef at Le Crillon, says he is proud to belong to "the first generation that grew up with the Carambar (a chewy caramel candy) and the Tagada (a pink sugar-coated marshmallow)." His wild strawberry-and-rose ice cream comes topped with a whimsical hat of cotton candy.

One trend not worth celebrating is higher prices. Since the French bade farewell to the franc in 2002, the bargain meal has become increasingly elusive. Restaurateurs seized the opportunity to bump up their prices, and today a puny bottle of mineral water can easily set you back five euros, and finding a bottle of wine for under 15 euros can prove extremely challenging. With few exceptions, 30 euros is the minimum price for a three-course dinner, and with side dishes and drinks the bill often climbs over 100 euros for two people. This gives you all the more reason to plan carefully, so as to make the most of your budget. In another civilized development, many establishments will slip an unfinished bottle into a bag for you to take home. (Ask for a "wine bag" rather than a "doggy bag," a term that makes the French cringe.)

If money is no object -- or if you've saved your centimes for a once-in-a-lifetime meal -- it's hard to go wrong at Taillevent, Lucas Carton, or Guy Savoy. If you relish the avant-garde, don't miss the far-flung culinary acrobatics of Pierre Gagnaire, who is half mad scientist, half inspired artist. Budget-wise gourmands know that many of Paris's best restaurants have prix-fixe lunch menus that are dramatically more affordable (but much more limited) than ordering from their regular à la carte menus. You'll probably have to ask for the lunch prix-fixe menu for obvious reasons -- most restaurants would prefer that you order à la carte. So watch out for that chilly look if you do pipe up and ask.

If you've come to Paris looking for a dose of elegance in an increasingly Gap-clad world, the revival of the dining rooms in the city's grande-dame hotels provides an ideal opportunity to show off new Diors and Chanels in truly gilded surroundings. Decor, of course, is not always the key to great food: some of the best bistros in Paris look downright simple, a kind of reverse snobbisme. For regal ambience but no demand to wear jacket and tie, don't forget the restaurants in some of the city museums, notably the Restaurant Musée d'Orsay (a gigantic Second Empire salon swimming in gilt, frescoes, chandeliers, and marble), the café at the Musée Jacquemart-André (where else can you munch on salads beneath a Tiepolo ceiling?), and the Café Marly, set in the main courtyard of the Louvre (go for afternoon tea).

Included in this chapter are a wide range of restaurants and prices. More than half are in the 1er-8e arrondissements, within easy reach of hotels and sights; many others are in the 14e and 16e, also popular visitor areas; and some are in the 11e-20e, outlying, often residential neighborhoods where cheaper rents allow young chefs to strike out on their own. Recognizing that even in Paris you may not want to eat French food at every meal, other cuisines are also included. (One area worth exploring -- especially at lunchtime -- is Paris's Chinatown, in the 13e arrondissement; the main streets are avenue d'Ivry and avenue du Choisy.)