The humble crêperie is one of my favorite places in Paris. The food is affordable—usually less than 15 euros for two courses—and the eating is easy. Nothing goes down better after a night of heavy wine “tasting” than a ham-egg-cheese complète. What’s more, the rough decor and the brusque charm of the waitresses remind me of old-time American diners. Despite all this, I don’t often recommend crêperies for traveling foodies. These places, at least the traditional ones, are tricked out in lace and dark wood paneling. They feel like Grandma’s house,
especially if your grand-mère is a sturdy Breton lass with loads of butter at the ready. Crêperies are comforting and cute, but they are most certainly not cool. At least, that used to be the case. The landscape shifted recently when West Country Girl arrived on the east side of Paris a few years ago. I suggested the crêperie for a lunch with a friend, and was relieved to see that the reviews were right: this place is refreshingly cool. Stylishly retro, the banana yellow bar and cherry laminate tables are balanced by muted decorative painting from Olivia Marie-Debackere. There’s a revolver mounted over the stereo, which is piping a mix of Beirut and other indie darlings. Nick Cave, whose song inspired the restaurant name, is undoubtedly in the mix.
6, passage St.-Ambroise, 75011, Tel: 01 47 00 72 54