By Barbra Austin

Cherry clafouti with pistachio cream.

Le Grand Pan
20, rue Rosenwald, in the 15th Arrondissement.
01 42 50 02 50. Mon–Fri, noon–2 p.m. and 7:30 p.m.–11 p.m.

In Greek mythology, Pan is the god of nature, reigning over pastures and flocks, and the shepherds who keep them. While there is nothing particularly pastoral about the 15th Arrondissement of Paris, there nature’s bounty is yours for the eating at Le Grand Pan.

This bistro often comes up in conversations about where to find a good steak. While it’s true that the côte de boeuf is superb, the generous use of seasonal vegetables at Le Grand Pan makes it more than just an address for meat and potatoes. A refreshing crab gelée was topped with a pile of tender green beans, a nest for a few sweet and rosy shrimps. An earthy mound of girolles was livened up by a marinade, tangy with vinegar and red peppers, and a salty strip of crisp bacon.

Girolles made another appearance with my main course, underneath a beautiful filet mignon of pork, and enriched with a touch of cream. The pigeon that my friend ordered looked comparatively austere, accompanied only by a red wine sauce, but the flavor of this little crisp-skinned bird was anything but.

The best way to eat at Le Grand Pan, though, might be with someone who likes to share. On the wall is a list of pedigreed meats—pork from Eric Ospital, veal and beef from Mauléon—all meant for two mouths, all served with thick, golden fries and, if you’d like, a salad of delicate greens from vegetable goddess Annie Bertin. 

Filet mignon of pork with girolles.

The wine list is oriented mostly toward the southwest, and includes a number of by-the-glass pours and carafes for under 20 euros. What’s not to like about that?

Keeping with the season, we had a very successful cherry clafouti for dessert, topped with a spoonful of pistachio whipped cream (something I will be trying out at home, for sure). That wasn’t before enjoying some cheese, though, a serve-yourself board of five beauties.

When we walked into the room, the atmosphere was friendly and relaxed. I had the distinct impression that most of the diners were neighborhood regulars, and when we left, I remember thinking that I would be a regular at Le Grand Pan, too, if I lived nearby.

In a nutshell: Le Grand Pan deliciously brings the best of French flora and fauna from the fields to the table.

Price check: First courses, 8–16 euros. Mains, 21–25 euros. Desserts, 7 euros.

If Le Grand Pan sounds good but the location doesn’t, visit La Régalade Saint-Honoré, smack dab in the middle of Paris, for great seasonal bistro cooking:

La Régalade Saint-Honoré
123, rue St.-Honoré, in the 1st.
01 42 21 92 40. Mon–Fri, lunch and dinner.

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

By Barbra Austin

Suckling Pyrenees lamb with stuffed peppers.

Le Timbre
3, rue Ste.-Beuve, in the 6th Arrondissement.
01 45 49 10 40. Tues–Sat, noon–2 p.m. and 7:30 p.m.–10:30 p.m.

I first visited this place with a couple of girlfriends more than three years ago. Our table wasn’t ready, so we waited with a glass of wine at the kitchen counter, where we tried to stay out of the way of the busy serveuse while chatting and watching the chef cook away. I was charmed.

The aptly named Le Timbre is the size of a postage stamp, a single room with a tiny kitchen in the back. Every inch of space is put to use. There is a banquette along each wall, and you’ll need help getting in and out.

The words cuisine traditionnelle are written on the window, but even if they weren’t, it would be obvious. Terrine de campagne with onion jam, hure de cochon (a.k.a. head cheese), white asparagus, fennel soup: like other bistros in this genre, it’s less about creativity than quality. Those white asparagus were served with a mustard-laden vinaigrette and a green herb puree, each bright and well seasoned.

There were a few Basque touches to the main courses: rabbit was served with chorizo, and a falling-apart-tender piece of young Pyrenees lamb sat next to stuffed pimiente peppers, racy red with a hint of heat. A seasonal sensibility is apparent, asparagus popping up again in the main courses alongside girolle mushrooms to accompany duck confit.

Sweet teeth would do well to opt for Le Timbre’s signature mille-feuille, a peach-and-rhubarb crumble or, in my case, Agen prunes (the best prunes in the world, maybe) in white wine and spices. I love these kinds of simple bistro desserts.

The Rhône and Loire valleys are well represented on the wine list, along with the Languedoc and Roussillon, most reasonably priced and most from small biodynamic winemakers.

If I told you that the chef of this near-perfect little French bistro was English, would you be surprised? Maybe, but if you’re a cheese lover you’ll appreciate the single nod he makes to his homeland: a plate of Stilton, that champion of blues that rarely gets its due in France, chauvinist as it is.

Because of Le Timbre’s size, I recommend calling two days in advance for a table. Those 20-some seats fill up quickly with neighborhood locals and visiting foodies staying in the area.

In a nutshell: A meal at the tiny Le Timbre should leave bistro lovers with a big smile.

Price check: First courses, mains and desserts are 8, 17 and 7 euros, respectively, barring the occasional supplement.

If you love the sound of this pocket-sized bistro, you’ll also love the minuscule La Cerisaie, on the other side of the Gare Montparnasse.

La Cerisaie
70, blvd Edgar Quinet, in the 14th.
01 43 20 98 98. Mon–Fri, noon–2 p.m. and 7 p.m.–10 p.m.

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

Sablé aux fraises with mascarpone.

La Régalade Saint-Honoré
123, rue St.-Honoré, in the 1st Arrondissement.
01 42 21 92 40.
Lunch and dinner, Mon–Fri.

The original La Régalade became well known under the ownership of Yves Camdeborde, whose career was one of many ships launched by Christian Constant. Instead of continuing in the galleys of haute cuisine, Camdeborde took his formidable talent to the next-to-last stop on metro line 4 and opened a bistro serving seasonally minded, generous food at gentle prices. He sold it to chef Bruno Doucet in 2004, but La Régalade has never stopped drawing praise, and foodies have never stopped making the pilgrimage to this early bastion of bistronomy.

Now right-bankers have a La Régalade of their own: Doucet just opened on rue St.-Honoré in the 1st—good news for those who want to fill their bellies near the old belly of Paris.

The new space doesn’t quite have the soul of the oddly shaped, slightly cramped location in the 14th, but the food certainly does. Anyone who has ever been to La Régalade will remember the terrine maison and cornichons left at the table for the taking, and I’m happy to say that this is still standard practice. Eat it, but don’t eat too much: a three-course meal is obligatory here, and you’ll want the space.

To start, I considered the scallops marinated in olive oil with basil and Parmesan, but I decided on green asparagus dressed with zippy herbs and mingled with sweet prawns—delicious. Morels, looking more like a side dish at a family dinner than a first course, sat in creamy sauce and demanded another basket of bread. The delicate tart of mackerel, with its verticality and squeeze-bottled sauces, seemed overdressed for this party, but its flavor was as down to earth and satisfying as everything else.

Two different bottles of pinot blanc from Domaine Ostertag, one of my favorite Alsatian producers, washed all of this down nicely.

For the main course, I again thought about seafood: both the daurade with piment d’Espelette and the cod with herbed broth and young spinach sounded good on a warm spring night, but I caved and ordered the braised paleron (chuck) of veal, served well glazed in its own sauce, with Provençal touches of tomato and basil. I could have eaten it with a spoon, it was that tender. A perfectly saignant (rare) entrecôte pleased the men at the table. The star, though, was the poitrine de porc with lentils. I had this dish at my last meal at the original location and was glad to see it on the menu here. Not for the cholesterol conscious, this thick slab of pork belly with beautifully crisp skin was as delicious as I had remembered.

Poitrine de porc with lentils.

I love rice pudding, but riz au lait after so much food is tough to swallow even if it is in the style of someone’s grandmother or mother. A sablé (sugar cookie) with strawberries and mascarpone was excellent, if not much lighter, and seasonal fruit appeared again in a pain perdu with strawberry-rhubarb compote. Dueling pots-de-crème of vanilla and chocolate were a bit precious in their presentation but nonetheless delicious.

These new digs are in a decidedly more fashionable quartier than the original, and there are signs—from some funky-shaped plates to the bright-striped banquette—that La Régalade is trying to fit in with its newer, posher neighborhood. In spite of that, the price of a meal remains low: three courses are just 33 euros, with a few supplements here and there for special items.

That’s a bargain for food this good in any neighborhood.

In a nutshell: La Régalade Saint-Honoré brings its classic neo-bistro fare to the 1st Arrondissement while maintaining 14th Arrondissement value.

Price check: Entrée, plat and dessert for 33 euros, with a wide range of wine prices.

If you like the sound of La Régalade Saint-Honoré but prefer your neo-bistros with a little outer-arrondissement cred:

La Régalade
49, ave Jean-Moulin, in the 14th.
01 45 45 68 58.