dine•o•crat

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:  ...