Beurre Noisette, Paris

Ah, the neighbourhood Paris bistro – who doesn’t get dewy-eyed at the memory of menus written in purple ink, champignons à la grecque, chunky, garlicky terrines served straight from the chipped dish, slices of gigot d’agneau with the obligatory flageolets, boeuf bourguignon, gratin dauphinois, loads of people tightly pressed into a small, smoky space that was neither spacious nor gracious, lots of fun and good value for money.

Then something happened. Either it all got a bit jaded, or we all got more sophisticated – probably both. Bistros became boring. Enter la bistronomie, the French equivalent of gastro-pubbery, which has spawned a new generation of grownup bistros with crossover appeal. Often they’re owned by talented young chefs who have worked with the stars, grown weary of the lobster-foie gras-truffle treadmill and decided to go it alone.

Chef Thierry Blanqui at Le Beurre Noisette did just that. After working at chez Ledoyen with his friend and mentor Christian Le Squer, he struck out on his own in 2001 in this tiny, unprepossessing little place in the depths of Paris’s 15th arondissement – to say it’s not far from the Eiffel Tower is kind; in fact it’s perilously close to the Porte de Versailles.

Blanqui describes his food as ‘cuisine classique revisitée’. The dishes chalked up on the blackboard sound vaguely familiar but with a cheeky twist. A pied de porc is coaxed slowly and lovingly to gelatinous perfection, cooled and thinly sliced en carpaccio and comes trotting over a bed of lentils. Succulent, flash-fried jewels of St Jacques are poised on an emerald green lettuce emulsion and served with a crackly tuile studded with sesame seeds. A hunk of tuna that’s had a brief skirmish with a hot pan comes with lentils encore; a soothing, nurseryish brandade of smoked haddock with mashed potatoes, garlic and olive oil is crowned with a perfectly soft-poached egg.

For nibbling on pensively and for mopping up Blanqui’s intensely flavoured sauces there’s criminally good bread from nearby bakery le Grenier de Félix. Summery puddings include a millefeuille of aromatic Gariguette strawberries or a fresh dish of peaches poached in a tarragon-infused syrup. The classic rum baba is a year-round favourite.

There’s a small selection of intriguing rather than show-off wines (a white Côtes-du-Rhône from Domaine de la Vieille Julienne, a nervy Cheverny from Domaine Maison), some served by the glass, others available in half-litre bottles.
Service is good-natured and deft – it needs to be with only two people for the 38 covers in the two tiny dining rooms plus 8 more on the pavement. From their descriptions of today’s specials, you can tell that they’ve tasted them, enjoyed them and would like you to share the fun. In true bistro form you’re cheek by jowl with your fellow diners but – oh joy – since January 1st this year, France has a rigorously enforced smoking ban so you can enjoy your neighbours (mainly French-speaking, some English/American accents heard) without having to endure their secondhand smoke.

Beurre Noisette has a Michelin red bib, indicating aspirational food at accessible prices. At lunch you can assemble your own two-course menu for €22 from the blackboard; three courses will set you back €30. In the evenings there’s a 3-course dinner menu at €32 or a surprise menu at €40. For this, you’re required simply to own up to any allergies and rule out any dislikes, tuck your napkin around your neck, put yourself in Thierry Blanqui’s capable hands and await your fate. There are worse ones.

Le Beurre Noisette
68, rue Vasco de Gama, 75015 Paris
Tel: +33 (0)1 48 56 82 49