By Barbra Austin

The food at Hôtel Amour is perfectly fine, but it’s the leafy terrace in the back that makes my heart sing. On a warm summer day it feels several degrees cooler in this sort of urban secret garden. Here it’s also cooler, with a laid-back right-bank mix of diners tucking into their tartare with gusto.

The menu is conducive to light meals and snacking. Start with a bunch of radishes or make a meal out of a chicken Caesar salad, a salade niçoise, or a plate of melon, mozzarella and Spanish ham. In case you haven’t noticed, the offerings here are less French, more casual-cosmopolitan. But then so is the clientele.

I saw plenty of bountiful salads pass by in the hands of pretty young waitresses, but many hungrier types were skipping the greens and going straight for the burger, with or without bacon and cheese. I have heard very good things about that burger (from a curmudgeonly American, no less), and I suspect those comments have to do at least in part with the honest pile of frites that accompanies it—crisp, golden, freshly fried and served with all the accoutrements from Heinz and Hellmann’s. Now that’s amour!

Roast chicken with fries.

A burger was not in the cards for me on a recent visit. I wanted to try more of the menu. Starters included smoked salmon, an artichoke salad with Parmesan and olive oil, and a tomato soup with basil. I chose a salad of green peas and fava beans, tossed with delicate greens, bacon and chèvre, which was just right.

I got my fix of fries with the roasted chicken. The chicken (a poulet jaune des Landes) was moist and flavorful, comme il faut, and the green salad was fresh and well dressed, competing as well as it could with those fries. Memorable? Not exactly, but satisfying nonetheless. Other main-course options included an entrecôte, grilled bass and grilled saucisses.

The real treat here, though, as I said earlier, is the setting. A brick patio under a glass atrium gives way to a lush garden with more seating among the greenery. There are a couple of tables secluded up a few stone stairs, which would make an excellent spot for clandestine business meetings.

Or a little amour, maybe.

In a nutshell: With a pretty crowd, a prettier space and pretty good food, there’s plenty to love about Hôtel Amour.

Price check: Starters are 6–15 euros; mains, 13–28 euros; desserts 4.50–9 euros.

For similar food with a grander view, visit Café Marly, which looks onto the main courtyard of the Louvre and is priced accordingly.

INFO

Café Marly
93, rue de Rivoli, in the 1st.
01 49 26 06 60. Open daily, all day.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Cochon de lait au foie gras (suckling pig with foie gras).

Chez Grenouille
52, rue Blanche, in the 9th Arrondissement.
01 42 81 34 07. Mon–Fri, lunch and dinner.
Sat, dinner only.

Each of us looks for something different in a restaurant experience. Some people want a great room; some want to witness the latest culinary trends; some like a particular kind of crowd in a cool neighborhood; some just want to go wherever the buzz is; and some will eat anywhere as long as the food is good.

A restaurant that’s been getting a bit of buzz lately is the decidedly unchic, definitely not trendy, and somewhat-located-in-no-man’s-land Chez Grenouille.

My first visit for dinner was, for the most part, satisfying. Scrambled eggs with morels, a house-made terrine with morels, suckling pig with foie gras, a parmentier (shepherd’s pie) of duck with a bright carrot top: it was rich, earthy auberge food served by a waiter whose demeanor was so gentle and sweet that I could not really get too peeved at him for forgetting our bread, and then our wine. On the other hand, this is France. Bread and wine are fundamentals of service.

Parmentier de canard aux carottes.

The chef-owner of Chez Grenouille, Alexis Blanchard, has won prizes for his terrines and other charcuterie, and on his menu he sticks to what he knows best. In other words, vegetarians and those with cholesterol problems should go elsewhere. For carnivores, though, there is plenty that will please. The suckling pig I mentioned was a gorgeous, melt-in-your-mouth morsel of meat surrounded by crisp skin, and it would have been fine without the little piece of seared foie gras on top. The parmentier looked a bit skimpy when it arrived, but underneath the sweet carrot lid was a deeply seasoned stew of duck that turned out to be more than enough. The wine list is on the short side, but a juicy red Burgundy did just fine. After sharing the giant baba au rhum for two, we walked away content.

Lunch was a bit different and a bit disappointing. Again there was a fantastic terrine (the cornichons, however, were notably absent) and a superb saucisse lyonnaise with a flaky puff-pastry crust. But a pavé de romsteck (that’s the rump), though perfectly cooked, seemed lonely. The little potatoes served for the table, skins coated with coarse salt, were certainly tasty; but, as my friend pointed out, a golden gratin would have been fantastic instead of just passable. The potatoes were better with the roast cod, topped with grapefruit and zippy herbs. Too bad the cod itself was almost cold when it got to the table.

Saucisse lyonnaise en croute.

Our lunch reservation was for one o’clock, and so was everyone else’s, it seemed. That—as well as our being seated in the room downstairs, a steep flight of stairs away from the kitchen—is perhaps why the service was slow and the plates not promptly delivered.

I should say more about the rooms, both upstairs and downstairs, because here’s the thing: they are rather sad. The lighting is dim and yellowish. Exposed beams and stone walls, normally charming in old spaces, do nothing here; maybe that’s because the uncamouflaged exposed pipes, plastic ivy and unfinished curtains barely hiding holes in the wall are so distracting. Or maybe because on the lower level, the whole mess of a room is reflected by a floor-to-ceiling mirror.

In a nutshell: The service is a bit haphazard but incredibly friendly. The room is ugly, but the food is generally good and fairly priced. There is definitely much to like about Chez Grenouille, but that means liking it warts and all.

Price check: Lunch menus at 15 euros (plat only), 20 euros (entrée, plat) or 25 euros (entrée, plat, dessert). À la carte, entrées are 7–12 euros, plats are 20–32 euros, desserts 5–7 euros. Affordable wines.

If you like the sound of Chez Grenouille but want an address that will satisfy your carnivorous craving with more charm and panache:

By Barbra Austin of Serve It Forth

Les Pâtes Vivantes
46, rue du Faubourg-Montmartre, in the 9th Arrondissement.
01 45 23 10 21.
22, blvd St.-Germain, in the 5th.
01 40 46 84 33. Lunch and dinner, Mon–Sat.

“You saved our lives,” said a friend in New York, just back from a trip to Paris. “We got sick,” she continued, “and that noodle place was exactly what we needed.”

The noodle place in question? The 9th Arrondissement's Les Pâtes Vivantes.

I had given her some addresses—she and her boyfriend work in restaurants—where I knew they could eat well, but when they got to Paris they found themselves severely under the weather. In case you didn’t know this, a bowl of brothy noodles cures everything.

I first read about Les Pâtes Vivantes on David Lebovitz’s blog (I imagine many people did!) and was excited at the thought of a new noodle joint to replace the less-than-stellar place I frequented on rue Ste. Anne in the 2nd.

Most of the restaurants on that street are, of course, Japanese. Over in the 9th, Les Pâtes Vivantes—though far from the established Chinatowns in the 13th and Belleville—is Chinese, and their specialty is hand-pulled noodles. It’s worth a visit just to watch the noodle cook toss, roll and stretch a piece of dough, transforming it from a shapeless ball into yards of thick cream-colored string.

The noodles (9–12 euros) are served sautéed or in soups, with vegetables, shrimp, chicken or pork. My favorite is the spicy Szechuan beef, with thin pieces of meat floating among the slippery noodles in a slightly piquant broth, garnished with fresh cilantro and scallions. I say “slightly” because this is Paris, after all, and the Parisian palate is not so tolerant of heat. I also like the nouilles à la sauce chajiang—tender pork, bean paste and soybeans in a barbecue-like brown sauce, garnished with celery leaves, carrot and more cilantro.

Spicy Szechuan noodle soup with beef.

At lunch there are formules available at 11 or 12 euros, which include an unremarkable little salad and a choice of appetizer: tempura or jiaozi, a.k.a. “ravioles grillés,” a.k.a. pot stickers. It’s worth it only if you are exceptionally hungry.

A few rice dishes are offered, but after seeing the noodles made right before your eyes, you'd be remiss not to order them, don’t you think?

The two-story space is perpetually crowded with locals on their lunch break and youngsters on a budget. Though minimal, the room (like the food) is a few notches above most noodle shops. The service is quick and friendly enough, and if you find yourself waiting a long time for the check, it’s because the check is actually waiting for you at the cashier’s counter. It’s likely that someone is waiting for your table, too, so be considerate and clear out.

One more thing—the exquisite table skills shown by the French don’t go very far with chopsticks. The way to eat Chinese noodle soup is with two hands: hold the chopsticks in your dominant hand and the spoon in your other. Pick up the noodles with the chopsticks and support the load with the spoon. Lean your head over your bowl to minimize the risk of dropping everything in your lap or splattering, and slurp away. It’s bad luck to break the noodles.

The last thing you want is to have bad luck in Paris.

Price check: If you spend more than 20 euros here, you are doing something wrong.

In a nutshell: This is Chinese food that is a cut above, a perfect spot when you realize that man (er, girl) cannot live on foie gras, butter and cheese alone. Your body and wallet will thank you.

If you like the sound of Les Pâtes Vivantes but want to spend even less:

Happy Nouilles
95, rue Beaubourg, in the 3rd.
01 44 59 31 22.

By Meg Zimbeck

Chocolate tart with bay leaf ice cream.

L’Office
3, rue Richer, in the 9th Arrondissement. 01 47 70 67 31.
Open for lunch Thurs–Fri, and for dinner Tues–Sat.
Closed Sun and Mon.

The area around Grands Boulevards has suddenly (and surprisingly) become cool. This major thoroughfare, not far from two landmark department stores, used to be nothing but chains. In recent years, however, a handful of hype restaurants has put this neighborhood back on the foodie map. Among these, Racines and Passage 53, tucked inside the Passage des Panoramas, are the most well known. But another relative newcomer—named after a place that I try to avoid—has begun to establish a following. I revisited l’Office this week and was reminded of why I loved it the first time around.

To begin, the waiters are adorable. Young and hip—wearing smiles and just enough facial scruff—my friend and I were putty in their hands. Did we want a sparkling Vouvray to begin? Absolutely! Sipping our bubbles, we admired the decor and made plans to transform our own apartments with strategically placed antlers. The taxidermy, when combined with retro lighting, moleskin banquettes and funky wallpaper, created an enviable retro-funky atmosphere.

The menu made for an easy decision—with only two options for each course, we ordered one of everything. Not every plate was perfect, but each one featured some sort of interesting surprise. Unraveling the flavors in every dish became a game. Were those scallops smoked? Did I taste brussels sprouts in the bright green pesto? Was that bay leaf in the ice cream? These dishes were bold (if sometimes a bit unbalanced) and definitely fun to eat.

We reserved for a late dinner and were delighted to look up, sometime after 11 p.m., and notice that the place had become a wine bar. After the tables had emptied out, a group of 10 friends was gathered around an equal number of bottles at the bar. This place is fun.

Price check: entrées are about 8 to 10 euros, with mains from 16 to 19 euros. For three courses at dinner, plan to spend around 35 euros. For wine, you can splash out with a glass of Lassaigne champagne for 10 euros, or play it cheap with a carafe of house wine from 18 to 22 euros. The thick wine list has plenty of other options to suit every budget, including a number of good vins naturels.

In a nutshell: Despite the buttoned-up name, l’Office exudes casual charm. It’s an addition to the restaurant scene around Grands Boulevards, with stylish decor and playful food for a fun-loving thirtysomething crowd.

If you like the sound of L’Office, you might also like:

Frenchie
5, rue du Nil, in the 2nd. 
01 40 39 96 19.