So after gulping down another formule (prix-fixe menu) at one of the cute sandwich/salad places on rue de Clichy, I went for a coffee at Wepler.  It was a suitably soggy Thursday, and the view from the covered terrace was suitably gray and Paris-like.  The Place de Clichy is probably as noisy and crowded as it was in the days when Henry Miller hung out there, though the café itself was much more scenic, if the paintings by Bonnard can be trusted for historical accuracy (somewhere along the line it got a boring, modern revamp).  I imagine there were less cars and more people milling around the enormous bronze statue dedicated to Maréchal de Moncey.  This huge trilogy of symbolic figures hovers over the circular square, giving an otherwise average Parisian traffic circle a touch of drama.

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Among new openings, Septime made a big impact on me and on Paris (I made a second reservation before my first visit was over). This new address in the 11th arrondissement, part of the Passardien diaspora (chef Bertrand Grébaut, along with several other noteworthy young talents, worked under Alain Passard at L’Arpège), is, for me, the most satisfying embodiment of what’s happening in Paris now. There are beautiful ingredients and a seamless incorporation of both ultramodern and classic technique that all ends up feeling perfectly natural. Unpretentious, professional service doesn’t hurt.

My other favorite newcomer is Vivant, Pierre Jancou’s latest showcase for his lusty, unfussy cooking of assiduously sourced products and his collection of expressive natural wines. Vivant stands out for another reason: Every contemporary bistro that opened this year seemed to be outfitted with exposed brick and industrial lighting—a cool, if bland, any-city aesthetic—but Jancou sources his locations as carefully as his products, and this onetime bird shop, elaborately tiled in glowing green and yellow, is gorgeous.

There are two old-but-new-to-me addresses that stand out from the past year. First, Chez Casimir, the delightful sibling and neighbor to Chez Michel, with a bustling, old-fashioned room; the happy, mostly neighborhood crowd; and, above all, the generous, blissfully unaffected, seasonal bistro cooking. And there’s the cheese tray. All comes with a price that feels almost retro.

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Next door is the smaller lunch spot, Causse La Fabrique, run by the friendly Mathilde, with the same decor of matte black paint, shiny white metro tiles, and a hint of industrial chic. There’s the same focus on simple, good quality food.
On the menu are a soup of the day (cream of parsnip, white bean), salads, sandwiches (comte cheese, homemade pesto and salad, or ham with mushrooms, €4.90), a dish of the day (chicken, leeks and rice on our visit, €9) and a dessert (an apple dacquoise, €3.50). There are just 15 seats around a large table plus a smaller bar to the side. Take-away is available, too.

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LMDW Fine Spirits is a slick three-level bottle shop run by a knowledgeable team of experts and enthusiasts. With a range of over 1,500 different offerings (including a large selection of bitters), persuasive staff and sampling opportunities, it’s hard to get out of here without dropping a bit of cash.

More than just a high-end boutique, LMDW Fine Spirits actively engages with their clientele through both paid and free tasting events for new or unusual spirits. Their Cocktail Corners – brand-sponsored ephemeral bars – give customers a chance to discover different products and see how they might be used in cocktails.

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Hidden Kitchen closed down in October, just after a friend secured us a reservation. Alas, it was not to be.

So, when I heard about another couple venturing into the world of secret tasting menus, I knew I had to give it a chance. As luck would have it, I was one of Secret Dinner Club’s first diners.

We had an 8-course tasting menu for 35€. We were asked to bring our own bottles of wine. More fun, perhaps, than the food was that we were strangers when we began the meal. (Well, it turns out I knew one of the other diners, but I hadn’t expected that.) There were three Americans, one who was only in town for a few days, one Irish, and one Austrian. We were all women, and the conversation was fun, free and following.

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Following in the footsteps of successful food trucks back in the States with a prominent social media presence, Kristin went straight to Twitter and Facebook in addition to her website to announce truck locations and scheduling changes. That’s part of what got people talking, but full credit goes to the concept and the quality.

The beef is ground fresh each morning, the buns are of the bakery variety and the options on the menu are unlike any this city has seen before. I opted for the Campagne which came topped with aged gruyère, caramelized onions and mushrooms and a side of hand cut, perfectly salted fries.

As I stood outside the truck, my hands numb from the biting cold, I savored each and every bite until hitting that ultimate sense of disappointment when I came to the last morsel. By the time I had finished my melody of ooohs and ahhhs, my fingers were warm and my smile untouchable. “It’s still fast food,” Kristin said as I sang her praises. Call it what you will, Le Camion Qui Fume’s burgers have merited their cushy new spot at the top of my ultimate burger list (and yours). Hopefully their searing success after only 2 weeks on the road is a harbinger for additional trucks and stops in the near future.

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Those who have spent the winter in France may be familiar with Les Pyréneens, a chocolate that appears in the shops only during the Christmas period. But few will be aware of its history. This ghost sign gives us a clue.

The Rozan chocolate brand was launched in 1924 by Maurice Rozan de Mazilly. The company’s headquarters were in Paris at 21 avenue Niel, but production took place at Oloron Sainte-Marie, in the Pyrénées mountains. This information can be read clearly in the ad, but what is not so clear is the company’s graphic identity, which seems to have been some kind of clown holding four bells. Who was Maurice Rozan de Mazilly, and what was so special about his chocolate?
Born in 1893, Rozan de Mazilly did not come to the chocolate business on an easy route, but rather as a way of rebuilding his life. Originally from a working class family in Normandy, he began working at the age of 15 as a sailor, before signing up with the French army at the beginning of the First World War.

Although he survived the conflict, he didn’t escape injury. He received severe injuries to his face, which required a two-year stay at the Hôpital du Val de Grâce in Paris and over twenty operations to repair the damage. Despite the pain and suffering, this period gave him time to reflect, and his first act after leaving hospital was to become a chocolatier.
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Selling nothing but bite-size choux à la crème (which sounds far more elegant than its English translation of cream puff), Popelini provides Paris with an alternative way to eat cake, and features flavours ranging from traditional vanilla and cafe to mouthgasmic salted caramel to romantic rose to raspberry.

But before you start to think this all sounds gimmicky, know that choux à la crème are a traditional part of French pastry making. Invented in Italy in 1540 by pastry chef Popelini (hence the name of the shop), these cream-filled morsels make up the traditional French wedding cake and are also essentially the same as the good old eclair—just rounder, smaller, and cuter. Here, however, cream puffs are brought up to date, lined up like little calorific jewels in the counter of the minimal boutique, all perfectly formed and topped with a colourful slick of icing, tempting you to indulge in the wide range of flavours.

In this unseasonably warm winter, faux snow and Christmas trees add a welcome holiday feel. Within, it’s a white, light, bright winter wonderland. Fake fur throws cover ample sofas and warming rugs are tucked beneath each table in case you need something extra cozy under which to snuggle.

For this type of operation, I appreciate the simplicity of the one and only drinking option: Champagne. There are three choices: Tattinger Brut Reserve (20 euros per glass), Tattinger Rose (21 euros) or Tattinger Brut Millesime (28 euros). For a few euros extra, add on the bulle fraicheur (barsnack in a ball). On my visit the bulle was a bread stick wrapped in a thin slice of duck breast on a generous mound of mascarpone dip.

The bar holds a maximum of 35 guests at a time and has a no-reservations policy. Going at opening (6pm) means you’ll enjoy the place in relative peace. Later it gets livelier with larger groups. The acoustics of the bubble are those of a whispering gallery: every conversation is amplified and sounds moves about the space in strange ways. Friendly doormen carefully monitor entries and exits via the two-door system to make sure one door remains closed at all times. Apparently if both doors are open at once, the dome deflates!

51 rue de Courcelles, 75008

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