out-of-Town: A Paris Itinerary

everything I ate during a week with no plans

Dec 31, 2024

Since getting off the plane from Paris less than 24 hours ago, I have already had an elderly man sit at the open seat at my table to silently enjoy his rice noodles, a stranger’s dog in a wheelchair park itself between my crossed legs, and eaten a spicy half-sour on the Union Square L platform. Being back in Brooklyn feels comforting, and my jet lag has been eased by lots of walking and several trips to more than 4 grocery stores. Just a day apart, though, has left me missing Paris’ cobblestone streets and crowded bistros, 7 euro glasses of wine and a much cleaner metro. I had such a special week, executed nearly perfectly, and I can’t wait to tell you all alllllll about it.

My week in Paris was a long awaited trip— an end cap to a year of changes and transitions that made it increasingly challenging for my family to be in one place at any given time. When the five of us (plus my siblings’ partners) finally convened, it felt a bit like a miracle. Smooth travels from three different cities carefully delivered us to Charles de Gaulle for a week with virtually no plans. Given my typical traveling nature, I, too, was surprised to have approached this trip without any reservations (except a special lunch on our last day). My only real objective was to try as many croissants and baguettes as I could and hit a few key meals, if I could swing the timing. Here is a rundown of everywhere I ate in Paris, with a list of my must-hits upon my next return. I think you’ll see why if you make it through the full itinerary, but Paris might have New York beat for my favorite food city. I’ll tell you why.

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Day 1

I set out each morning to a new bakery, always collecting a croissant (plain, of course), a baguette, and anything a bit more adventurous that looked particularly compelling. I never got sick of walking into a boulangerie before most of Paris had gotten out of bed, nodding and pointing at my selections, and checking out with a total less than 10 euro, even with 3 pastries and 2 baguettes in tow.

My first pastry run was to Utopie, where a small line had formed around the corner of the bakery. I couldn’t tell if that was a really good sign (popular) or a really bad sign (tourist trap). We got plain croissants, a golden raisin snail, and a baguette. It could have been the two hours of sleep but the croissant was soft and airy, and flaky with a distinct sweetness. The baguette was quickly torn to pieces, pastries finished off, and we deemed our first pastry run a success. My mom maintained that Utopie croissant was her favorite all week.

Our travel fatigue was in no way helped by an afternoon spent in what must be the best place in Paris to watch the rain fall. Our table for 7 at BRUTOS could not have been cozier—a restaurant that feels like being wrapped in a blanket, BRUTOS is the kind of sophisticated comforting fare that is all too familiar in Brooklyn. Dressed radicchio and crisp fries with spicy aioli hit every table, along with a stunning full roast chicken covered in herbs. A bowl of the creamiest mashed potatoes I have ever seen is topped with bone marrow, beets are grilled and finished with bordelaise, and the best scallop I have ever had came in a pool of brown butter with trout roe, slices of kumquat, (and an extra bump of caviar if you’re nice). Somewhere between course three and our second glasses of wine, it felt like a true challenge to keep our eyes open in our dimly lit corner. Outside the window, the streets of Paris were dreary and grey. We would have happily stayed all day. Alas, it was 3pm and we had lots of exploring ahead of us.

After a very hearty lunch, we pulled together a beautiful assortment of cheese, ham, smoked salmon, baguette, and vegetables from various stores in the Marais. Can not recommend enough having cheese and bread for dinner as many times as you can, especially if you are running on two hours of sleep and can’t put two and two together for a dinner plan.

We finished the night with a bottle of red at Aux Deux Amis which, on a Saturday night at 11:30pm is wall-to-wall with 30-somethings sharing bottles of wine and cigarettes. If you want a seat, sneak to a table as soon as one opens up, they’ll bus it for you after. If you ask for a re-up of your wine glass, don’t be surprised if they come by with a different bottle. It is all very nonchalant and quite fun.

Day 2

With jet-lag conquered, I was up at 8am en route to two bakeries across the street from one another. The French Bastards felt too hip and modern, a real deviation from the much less trend-aware bakeries that lined Paris’ side streets. They had a lot of charcoal breads and pastries which I found weird, but the croissant was rich and a bit denser than Utopie’s with a serious flake. Graine’s, by contrast, had a distinct savory flavor and was soft and squishy. Neither were outstanding, both were above average. A full day unfolded before we found ourselves in need of a bite, and I dragged my parents to what they thought would just be a glass of wine and a snack—ha!

I have been dreaming of returning to La Buvette since my last visit five years ago. With just 3 tables, the tiny wine bar feels like you’ve walked into a stray kitchen. No music is playing, the lights are on, one server tends to every guest, and the food is prepared no more than 5 feet from any given seat. A menu of bites is written out on a mirror, and is largely the same as it was on my first visit. The highlights, an unbelievably creamy burrata with a mandarin zest and olive oil, a big slice of blue cheese serviced with confit kumquats, saucisson, a pickled jammy egg, and endless bread. If you find yourself in Paris, it is worth visiting La Buvette for one dish, and one dish only, the white beans with olive oil and lemon zest. Supremely simple, Buvette is serving *canned* white beans that taste like no bean you have ever had. Drizzled with olive oil, huge flakes of salt, and a dusting of citrus, they are a perfect lesson in the beauty of a simple dish. We had 4 orders of them <3

You might arrive and be told to “come back later” if the few chairs have already been occupied. I’m telling you, it is worth coming back. Pull up a stool and fill your table with bites, bread, and fabulous French wine.

Even after four helpings of beans, we decided we had one more stop in us. The bistro around the corner from La Buvette, Brasserie Martin, seemed promising. We waited 30 or so minutes (with a bottle of wine, sitting in the freezing cold) and were greeted by a deceptively large restaurant filled with a lot of French and American people. Surprising. No one was blown away by the food, except the Profiteroles. Those were fucking good.

Day 3

Half a block from our Airbnb, Polka would be just as easy to walk by without a second glance. With an unassuming awning and displays of croissants the size of a human baby, Polka’s very sweet team and incredible bread would be foolish to miss. My pointing and nodding was key here, with a team that spoke as little English as I do French. I returned over and over again for brioche, croissants, and 5 baguettes by the end of the week. I felt like I had been let in on a local secret, and I truly couldn’t get enough.

I have no idea what we had for lunch this day, we were too busy shopping. Another bread and cheese and charcuterie dinner this night—it was Christmas eve and we were not in the mood for Chinese.

Day 4

Extra pastries for breakfast, baguette sandwiches with leftover ham for lunch, and a rotisserie chicken with potatoes and salad for dinner. Pretty good for Christmas and the entire city being shut down.

Day 5

With plans to take full advantage of the up-and-running city following the holiday, I set off at 9am for I/O cafe. With one barista and ten seats, I sat and stared at a very quiet street and drank the best cortado I have ever had—not even remotely an exaggeration. If I lived in Paris, I would be here every morning.

I took a nice long walk through the 11th toward Hallie’s apartment, with plans to head to Tapisserie, the boulangerie from the Septime group. Of course, I had a croissant, but we had to get their famous redwood choux, and a quatre quart, a pound cake rolled in brown butter and sugar. The croissant was delicious, and the quatre quart was soft and dense with a nice crunch from the granulated sugar. The choux was everything it is cracked up to be. The signature redwood cream has a slightly complex flavor akin to a tonka and vanilla bean. More mellow and less sweet, and certainly hard to wrap your head around. We had to google the flavor and only understood after we read David Lebovitz’s explanation.

After our Tapisserie appetizer (lol) we continued down the block to Terroirs d’Avenir, which I had been eager to try. The croissant was by far the best of the trip, the sweetest and densest with the most discernible crunch. We tried the kouign aman too, which was absolutely insane—take perfect lamination and wrap it in crunchy sugar… no problem. The best baked item of the week was this olive bread—oily like a focaccia might be and salty from the kalamata olives dispersed throughout the dough, this was one of those bites that left Hallie and I staring at each other wide-eyed. Within the hour we had returned for a second to share with our parents. Without a doubt, this was the best bakery of the trip.

For lunch, we waited in a worthwhile line for Caractère de Cochon, where only one party is allowed in at a time to select the meat, cheese, and toppings for their baguette. A comté sandwich with butter, cornichon, and mustard will never not hit in Paris, and they have an incredible selection of ham, olives, and pates to select from, if that strikes your fancy. Our sandwich ended up with a few mystery marinated artichokes but I am definitely not complaining.

After a very long day with an excessive amount of walking, we threw back some Chablis and a lot of french fries at Auberge Bressane. The old school restaurant is unlike any classic bistros we had visited this trip—formally dressed waiters bring around dishes for tableside presentation in copper pots and souffle dishes, with decor that felt a bit less Parisian and more…Scottish? I was obsessed with the plates and the fact that we got butter in a foil package. My Dad’s vol-au-vent was absolutely insane—the french do chicken pot pie better than we ever could. Crepes suzette are worth the show, and the souffles are obviously necessary—not life-changing but worth the show.

Day 6

Day 6 is when things went from good to exceptional.

I had put myself on a waitlist for one for a lunch at Le Servan, having heard nothing but high praise for the Asian-French fusion restaurant just around the corner from two of my favorite meals of the trip. My notification that a seat had opened for me came the night prior, and I had truly high hopes for the meal, barring any concern for the amount I would actually be able to try/order/eat on my own.

I parked myself at the end of their copper bar and was walked through a menu I barely understood and served a crisp glass of a natural Riesling. After much indecision, I sat and waded through four courses, beginning with a bowl of very small clams in a bath of espelette butter sauce, garnished generously with cilantro. While smaller than the steamed clams I am used to in New England, I spooned the small meaty bites out of a pool of butter I would certainly swim in. I followed with a scallop crudo topped with mustard seed and black walnuts, with a dollop of savagnin creme. THEN! Raviolis with Jersualem artichokes in miso butter with chanterelles. Actual, true heaven. Pillowy pockets with a little bite from the sunchoke…could have eaten 20 more. This was definitely a butter-forward order, but it was light rather than overbearing, and complex enough that no dish felt really tasted buttery, nor was too rich. I did order the lemon meringue and pistachio tartelette because it is my favorite dessert. I am glad I couldn’t resist because I was truly blown away. The tart crust was tender and short, the pistachio not overbearing, the lemon exceptionally tangy, and the meringue just the right thickness and carefully torched.

Once I had recovered from my lunch and walked about 6 additional miles, we headed to Clamato to get in line for the first seating. Sibling of next door Septime which, try as I might, I could not get into, Clamato is the walk-in only seafood forward counterpart. This was the spot I was most eager to work into our schedule, and I am so glad we succeeded. By the restaurant’s open at 7pm, there were enough people in line to flat seat the restaurant, with a handful pushed to the second seating of the night. By 7:30, they had filled their list for the night. We drank mezcal micheladas out of paper straws, ate the creamiest Utah Beach oysters, fawned over the pizza with bonito and caramelized onions, and fought over the fried scallops in lettuce cups with gochujang and pickled vegetables. The trout was perfectly tender, with a skin made of fried bread, sitting in a sauce made of chicken stock, fish stock, and Port. A salad with monkfish dressing and peanuts was a sleeper hit, and the cabbage with ajo blanco was exceptional.

We finished the meal with a divine labne and orange blossom gelato topped with pistachio butter and confit clementines, and Tapisserie’s famous maple tart topped with fresh whipped cream.

Clamato embodies what I loved most about eating in Paris this week. There are popular restaurants and beloved chefs. There are boulangeries worth traveling to and sandwiches even the locals will wait 45 minutes for. Getting a table can be difficult, but it is not a city-wide epidemic. The thing that sets these Paris spots apart is that the old and new feel equal, the oldest bistro in the city is just as desirable as the newest wine bar. Everything feels a bit more timeless there, less keen on trend and virality, with an obvious focus on seasonality, warm hospitality, and consistency. These are kitchens standing the test of time, whether for 3 years or 30, and are begging to be returned to again and again. There isn’t a single place I went to this trip that I wouldn’t be thrilled to go back to.

Day 7

We wrapped the trip with a very special meal at Le Doyenné, which needs its own write up. That will come very soon, this one has already gone on too long.

Here is where I will be prioritizing my next trip to Paris which I hope will be very soon:

Happy new year, thank you for being here!! Til next time…