dine•o•crat

My first impression of the restaurant  Les Tablettes de Jean-Louis Nomicos‎  was mixed. One the one hand, the place oozed with cool, its basketweave interior an absolutely stunning marvel of modern precision interlaced with hand-craftsmanship. On the other hand, there was a dog at the table next to us. Granted, it was a small dog, quiet and adorable, a companion to the old madam  whose two younger female dining partners looked like they could be the second and third branches of the family tree. Parisian ladies who lunch? The Chanel jackets told as much. My imagination ran wild: in my mind, the two younger women were trying to save their inheritance because somehow, the old lady got involved with a much younger lothario, an opportunistic gigolo who was about to get half of her millions or billions of euros in assets. But les femmes did it all with such warmth and conviviality, all smiles and bonheur . It was even putting the dog to sleep. Welcome to Paris....

It's been said that the long, full-course French lunch is disappearing . For various reasons—among others, health and economic—the French need to eat shorter, hence smaller, lunches. Septime, in the 11th arrondissement of Paris, is still a place for long lunches in a decidedly more casual environment. (The picture of three young women across the street having their lunch on a bench, however, is an apt juxtaposition that represents France's changing lunch economics.) Entering Septime is like walking into a San Francisco or New York hipster restaurant. The waiters all wear white shirts, jeans, sneakers and aprons. The atmosphere is very relaxed and the focus is on the food. The pedigreed chef, Bertrand Grébaut of L'Arpège and L'Agapé, offers in his less formal restaurant a tantalizing and welcoming spareness both in the decor and the food. I sensed that the preparations had this philosophy behind them: the techniques and presentations are mere backdrops for, not the fo...

"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:  ...

"Nicole Kidman is next door, vous l'avez vue ?" asked our waitress after we sat down at Les Bouquinistes. My dining companions and I looked outside, into the inscrutable and slightly drizzly evening. The sudden appearance of a swarm of paparazzi, circling the building like giant fireflies, gave credence to her claim. "Really?" I wanted to ask. "Did she bring her career with her? Because she seems to have left it somewhere equally hard to spot." Besides, we had already found our star that night and it was food. Les Bouquinistes , Ze Kitchen Galerie 's neighbor, is breathtaking at night. The Seine is right in front, lit up and glorious, Notre Dame is in the distance overseeing the night's activities on the Left Bank. It was Fashion Week in Paris, which made the appearance of a celebrity logical, though her appearance in the restaurant next door was a mystery worthy of Poirot. Les Bouquinistes is Guy Savoy's more "affordable" o...