Willi's Wine Bar, Paris

"Would it help you if I spoke English?" the waiter asked the uniformly surprised and relieved members of our dining table. We had been puzzling over the menu in French, arguing over the terminology of the dishes when our young waiter, who had been a perfect francophone up until then, suddenly sounded like Daniel Radcliffe. Or Madonna in London. We would have been mad to say no.

Willi's Wine Bar, a Parisian institution located near the Bourse (the stock exchange), just north of the Palais Royal, would surprise anyone who has old ideas about what a bar is like. Willi's isn't like any bar that I've been to. The food was brilliant, each dish a shining example of the possibilities that could come out of a thoughtful selection and preparation of the menu. The place is now over 30 years old, but it rivals younger places with its fresh approach. Apparently, it has a reputation for being a hangout for Anglos; no one told us the serveurs could be, as well.

Left: a roasted quail with lardons; right: foie gras medallions.

When is a pomme not an apple? When it's a pomme Roseval, in which case it's pomme de terre (potato). Below, the not-apple with (deja vu!) lardons. The French bacon, though good, is much leaner than the American type; this is where I must say I prefer the smokier and usually crispier pork product of the US. Still, I could never say "Non" to the French.

Below left: Pasta della mama, wild mushrooms, arugula pesto. This was not a trip where I was expecting a lot of pasta, much less good pasta. This, however, was cooked with such delicacy and attention, it was quite the winner at the table. (My dining companions and I, if I haven't told you yet, tend to share all of our plates in almost equal portions.) 

When does bar not mean the bar where you get drinks? When it's sea bass. Right: bar a la plancha with grilled fennel.

One of the things I was really looking forward to was the taste of wild game and fowl, something I couldn't get in my Asian region. This guinea was tasty without overpowering gaminess, just the thing I was looking for. Below: Challans guineafowl, scallops and mushrooms. Look at the cooking style: country, but sophisticated, like Dolly Parton in Dior. It's as good as it looks.

Below, l-r, a trio of simple but memorable desserts: Croquant praline, noisettes, caramelized almonds; Tartelette aux oranges; Reinette apples confite, salted butter.

Dinner was reasonably priced, especially for the quality of cooking: a 500 mL carafe of wine, plus all of the food above was about $70 per person. (I couldn't remember the euro price.) Willi's, it should be noted, also sells posters of the art commissioned for its wine bottles. I called at night for a reservation, as we were leaving one of the museums we were visiting during the trip. I got a table for 9:00 p.m. that same weeknight, just about an hour or two after our museum exit. 

When we got there, there were quite a few tables occupied, most prominent of which were a  large group of casually dressed French (perhaps) and one with a bunch of suits from the nearby financial district. The latter group was still there as we were leaving, enjoying, despite la crise financière, the spirit of Paris—and its spirits—well into the night. And who could blame them? For while Willi's may not be a royal palace, it's the place that could make you take stock of your preconceived notions of lager and beernuts at a bar.

Willi's Wine Bar‎
13 Rue des Petits Champs
75001 Paris, France
01 42 61 05 09


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