For the first-time visitor of Montmartre there is generally only one way to the top: the steep way. It’s either the behold-the-basilica honey-beeline from the Anvers metro station or a bumblebee line from the Abbesses station (with a stop at the Love Wall), unless you’re a lazy bee who, after arising from either station, takes the joyless funicular toward the summit of the Mount of the Martyrs.

But there are many ways down, whether you’re a first time visitor or not. Rue Lepic, for example, a Napoleon-era path that takes the long and gently winding way past two windmills, a view toward the Invalides, and Theo Van Gogh’s apartment (#54), eventually reaching the hub of its lower neighborhood on the final stretch toward the Moulin Rouge and the Blanche metro station.

Recently, during a stroll down rue Lepic, I found myself confronted with an essential dining question: Chicken or beef? Le Coq Rico, Antoine Westermann’s “poultryhouse” near the top of the hill, or Les Fines Lames, a beef restaurant run by a three entrepreneurial friends towards the bottom?

Chicken (and other poultry): Le Coq Rico

Since 2012, Antoine Westermann has been on a mission in Montmartre to see to it that diners at his “poultryhouse” Le Coq Rico appreciate and understand that birds can provide noble meat. His “bistro of beautiful birds,” is now seven years old, making it a very mature establishment if he is sincere in believing that “the lifetime of a restaurant should not expand beyond ten years.”

Heritage poultry with exacting sourcing and precise culinary care naturally carries a heartier price tag then the free-range chickens rotating on a spit outside of a butcher’s shop on the basse cour end of rue Lepic or served in a café on rue des Abbesses. Count 30-40€ per person for the poultry portion of the meal, before appetizer, dessert and/or beverages.

Is that too much for a main course of rotisserie poultry? Coming from the land of frozen Butterballs and baked Perdues, we may be more easily sold on the added value of well-sourced beef than well-raised guinea fowl and 120-day Bresse chicken. Westermann has said that “If animals are offered the life they deserve, it will show in the quality of their meat.” Leaving aside “the life they deserve,” dine here if in search of that quality, not to impress followers on your Instagram account—because it doesn’t necessarily look much different on the plate than the poulet-frites served in a café.

The 24€ quarter of a challan chicken that serves as the entry-level main-course bird on the menu arrived at the table resembles too much its café cousin to make me feel that I’ve arrived in the dining room of a poultry specialist. I imagine that, compared with its cousin, it led a more comfortable, well-fed life before being slaughtered and eventually slow-cooked in a broth then roasted. Still, I recommend looking further along the menu for a choicer, whole bird, despite the additional cost.

With all due respect to the friend with whom I had a tête-à-tête dinner and that quarter of a challan at a side table, I have founder memories of sharing a whole bird and several different side dishes with four others at the long table in the back. In fact, Le Coq Rico is at its best when you’re a party of three or more dining in a Thanksgiving-like spirit, starting with appetizers (15-24€) that further present a passion for poultry (eggs, poultry livers, cream of poultry soup, an offal platter, foie gras) before the whole bird is presented at the table then sliced by the staff. (There’s no poultry in the desserts, 14-16€, take it or leave it.)

In addition to the flock of heritage breeds of chicken, turkey, duck, goose, quail and guinea fowl that regularly appear on the menu, Westermann has been making a fine-feathered tour de France this year, giving a different bird place of honor of the menu each month: July honors the rustic “naked neck of Forez,” September brings in a buckwheat-fed, 200-day-old bird from Sarthe, October’s pick is a pigeon from the foothills of the Alps. As to November, that’s time to prepare for a traditional American Thanksgiving (with French turkey) since Le Coq Rico is a Turkey Day hot spot.

Westermann’s personal enjoyment of American Thanksgiving comes from his time in New York, where he and a partner opened an American wing of Le Coq Rico in 2016. The partnership split up in 2018 with the partner now holding the New York wing and Westermann retaining the Paris wing, nevertheless he has not fully flown the New York coop. He was headed there to celebrate Thanksgiving when I sat with him last year to talk turkey. Thanksgiving, he said, is “necessary for my body.”

Le Coq & Fils, 98 rue Lepic, 18th arr. Tel. 01 42 59 82 89. Open daily noon–2:30PM, 7–11PM.
For dinner count 60-70€ per person, before beverages, if selecting 3 courses. For lunch there’s a 27€ 3-course menu. The daily lunch specials are evidence of the restaurant’s (American) family-friendly leanings: Monday: mac and cheese with poultry morsels; Wednesday: poultry burger; Thursday: grilled poultry sausage.

Beef: Les Fines Lames

Calling Les Fines Lames (meaning The Sharp Blades) a steakhouse would be to attribute it an ambition that it doesn’t have. True, this restaurant primarily serves steak, decent steak at that, but no cause to talk about marbling, aging and pampered cows. Furthermore, the trio of thirty-something entrepreneurs and longtime friends—Guillaume Levevre, Thibault Tierelin and Vivien Chauveau— who opened the restaurant in 2018 are upfront about it being their service and managerial skills that led them to open Les Fines Lames rather than butcher pedigree. Beef, why not?, they like beef, many people still like beef, beef it is.

So Les Fines Lames is not a steakhouse. It is not the steak equivalent of the Westermann’s poultryhouse. It’s a 34-seat house serving steak on tables with sharp knives planted in them and within a décor of framed butcher’s tools, a display of wine bottles and a ceiling of cut wine barrels. It’s as straightforward as that. Steak—decent, tender steak—costs 28-32€ for filets and entrecotes, with a side dish (4€ per extra side dish), 59-69€ for two for a large slab of rib steak or for a trilogy of cuts. There are also 180 gram (6.3 oz.) smaller or lesser cuts, as well as hamburgers and tartare, at 16€, making for a reasonable lunch choice.

Add to those a straightforward selection of appetizers at 7-9€ (gazpacho, bone marrow, charcuterie, burratina…), an equally straightforward selection of desserts (molten chocolate cake, French bread, sorbet…) at 8€, and a selection of wines from independent winegrowers covering the French essentials, as well as a few beers, and you’ve got the kind of place you’d go to if you were a beefeater and lived in the neighborhood and didn’t want to a steakhouse—or if you were a visitor descending from the top of Montmartre and chose beef.

Les Fines Lames, 35 rue Lepic, 18th arr. Tel. 01 42 55 95 95. Open daily noon-2PM and 7-10:30PM. While seating isn’t tight, the 34-seat restaurant can be loud when full.

Additional fare on Rue Lepic

If unable to agree with your dining companion(s) on the question of poultry or beef but nevertheless wishing to eat on rue Lepic, consider Jeanne B, at #61, where you’re sure to find a well-prepared bit of everything (much of it pre-prepared), and La Rughetta, at #41, a nonchalant Italian restaurant owned by the three guys of Les Fines Lames.

© 2019, Gary Lee Kraut

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by Ellen Lebelle

When it’s cold and gray in Paris, Montmartre is a bit colder and grayer than the rest of the city. When it’s cold and gray in December, you just grin and bear it and say to yourself that it’s winter, so stop complaining. But when it’s that way at the very end of March, you bear it without the grin. However, you can’t dictate the weather when you travel. It’s always either too cold or too hot or raining….

This, however, is not about the weather. This is about the shuffle. If you’ve been to a big exhibit—Monet, Matisse, Hopper, Dali—you’ve experienced it. You shuffle from one painting to the next. You try to get closer to the tiny card that identifies the piece, too low down for your aching back and in any case too badly lit. The crowd pushes you from behind and you shuffle along. You can’t get any distance from the painting either, otherwise you’ll lose your place and won’t see anything because the others are crowded so close to the wall.

This is the price of seeing art. It is also the price of major tourist attractions.

Montmartre is a major tourist attraction. When you get out of the metro at Abbesses and you see that everyone is exiting at the same station you figure you are not alone on this pilgrimage. You start the shuffle straight away.

You can’t cross the street because of the pedestrian traffic coming at you, crossing in front of you. Cars rarely venture onto these streets. There is a long line for the funicular and you’re squashed like sardines, but you make it to the top, where there is a bit of a jam trying to get out and over to the steps with a view of the white fog over Paris. You can’t see any major monuments, though, on such a gray day, and it’s hard to stay out of the way of people taking pictures of their loved ones on the steps.

The human statues are always amusing; you wonder if anyone leaves them money—you don’t. There is a harpist playing in the cold and then, further up, a violinist played classic French hits. With all this entertainment, you have to keep counting off your own group: six adults and two small children who kept changing places among the grown-ups.

You get into line to enter Sacré Coeur; only one gate is open for both ingoing and outgoing traffic, which causes another traffic jam. The basilica is cold and dark—19th century neo-Romanesque architecture, none of that light, airy Gothic of Notre-Dame. From afar it looks like a meringue topping on the hill, but up close it’s too big to take in. There are so many people you shuffle along, down the left side and back up the right, without much time to notice anything of particular interest or beauty, leaving you with the impression there isn’t any. There are very clear signs asking tourists to respect the place (no photos) and the people who might be praying (silence), but it’s clear that most visitors ignore the signs; even when a staff person puts his hand in front of someone’s camera to stop him from taking a picture, it only works until the staffer goes onto the next person. Once your little group had collected itself together to leave, it takes another few minutes to negotiate the exit traffic jam and cross through the line waiting to go in.

Between the basilica and the Place du Tertre, you may need to stop to eat. First, there is a big traffic jam of people watching the organ lady grind her mechanical organ and sing à la Piaf. You can hear her but not see her—too many people. You have lunch where everyone has lunch, which has satisfied your appetite but not your aching back, and by the time you leave it has started to snow. So now under snowfall you continue the shuffle through the pedestrian traffic to the Place du Tertre to admire the artists hard at work. You are impressed by some, but not to the point of sitting for a portrait; it’s too cold and there were too many people milling about. So you duck into a gallery to get warm and to figure out the rest of the day. You make a plan: two of the adults will take the kids home while the others go to the Flea Market at St. Ouen, a place you wouldn’t venture to in winter, even when it’s officially spring.

Then you work your way down the hill of Montmartre, again with the shuffle. It’s the same shuffle in museums, at Mont St. Michel, at Notre-Dame, in Rome, in Florence, in New Hope and along the Great Wall of China. The same shuffle, but as you get older, it only gets worse.

© 2013, Ellen Lebelle

Ellen Lebelle is an American who has lived in France for a long, long time. She is a wife and mother of four enjoyable adults. A former technical writer and English teacher, she is now retired.

Also see The Cranky Parent, The Cranky Urbanist, The Cranky Foreign Resident and The Cranky Pedestrian.

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As all businesses in this part of Montmartre, these three attract both residents and tourists. That’s a good sign seeing that from the plateau at top of the hill, where everything is devoted to tourism, you wouldn’t think that anyone actually lives in Montmartre. Montmartre is, in fact, a large, dense residential zone bordered by Boulevard de Clichy, Boulevard de Rochechouart, Boulevard Barbès, Rue Custine and Rue Caulaincourt.

This short list of notable brunch places concerns only the western part of that zone. Outside of brunch-time, you need only witness the buzz in the cafes on Rue des Abbesses or on Rue Caulaincourt in winter to understand how residential Montmartre truly is and what sociable characters inhabit this part of the 18th arrondissement.

Le Café Qui Parle, 24 rue Caulaincourt, 18th arr. Metro Abbesses or Blanche. Tel. 01 46 06 06 88. Serving brunch on 10am-4pm Saturday, Sunday and holidays. Reservations not taken. Otherwise a café and a restaurant. Closed Sun. evening.

A bountiful buffet and tableside service for beverage, all at a few euros less than most brunches in Paris, makes this one of the top choices anywhere in Montmartre. That explains the line that forms outside by noon, or even by 11:30am. Come before 11:30 or after 2 to avoid a long line.

If no seats are available you can always pick up some good sweet or savory offerings at the excellent Goutran Cherrier bakery across the street at 22 rue Caulaincourt.

After brunch, consider a stroll nearby in the atmospheric Montmartre Cemetery, final resting place to Degas, Berlioz, Offenbach, Nijinsky, Truffaut, Stendhal, Zola, Dalida and 22,000 others.

Coquelicot, 24 rue des Abbesses, 18th arr. Metro Abbesses or Pigalle. Tel. 01 46 06 18 77.

Coquelicot, meaning poppy (you will see red poppy flowers everywhere), is primarily a bakery though it also acts as a café. The high quality bread at Coquelicot is a good reason to stop here. Since it’s primarily a bakery it is, of the three places noted here, the least attractive for a lengthy sit. Unlike the other two on this list, however, there’s an easy way to beat the weekend brunch crowds: come for brunch during the week. You can reserve or just stop by. Coquelicot also serves a various types of simple breakfast, a wise choice for the weekday traveler.

In addition to the tables outside and on the ground floor there’s plenty of (tight) seating upstairs.

This reputable moderately-priced restaurant, otherwise serving a range of Paris classics, proposes a pleasing Sunday brunch. Decent though not exceptional as far as brunches go, but the place is appealing for a long brunch sit, without the constant bustle of the two mentioned above. And on the approach to this restaurant Rue Tholozé has a great uphill views toward the windmill of the Moulin de la Galette, the open-air dance bar subject of Renoir’s famous “Bal du Moulin de la Galette” in the Orsay Museum.

Kudos to owner Ludovic Janssens for being such a friendly and accommodating owner when I brunched here. He was willing to remake the pancake batter when I told him the pancakes were too thin, which he quickly saw was true. Most owners in Paris would have simply invited me to pay the bill and leave. Pancakes are typically served as part of the dessert portion of brunch in Paris and, even at their best, tend to be less fluffy and contain less flour than their American counterparts.

Prices
A typical brunch in Paris runs 17-26 euros and naturally much more in luxury hotels and fashion-conscious restaurants. Le Café Qui Parle and Coquelicot are in the lower end of that range. Le Petit Parisien, which is a restaurant, is mid-range.

© 2011, Gary Lee Kraut

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The cusp of spring is prime time for skytrees, and the images below, taken in the third weeks of March, are prime examples of skytrees in Paris: Arc de Triomphe, Notre-Dame, Saint Sulpice and Montmartre/Sacré Coeur by nightfall.

My favorite early spring skytrees were noticed during a recent evening while wandering around Montmartre before meeting friends for dinner.

Dinner too was a treat. We dined at Le Grand 8, a highly recommendable moderately-priced restaurant just downhill from Sacré Coeur on its lesser visited eastern side. There, Kamel Tabti and Stéphane Tomeï and their staff amiably serve simply and well-prepared dishes and natural/organic wines. It’s at once urbane, rustic and homey.

Le Grand 8. 8 rue Lamarck, 18th arrondissement. Tel. 01 42 55 04 55. Metro Anvers. Open for lunch Sat. and Sun. noon-3pm, for dinner Wed-Sun. 7-11:30pm. Reservations are advisable. www.legrand8.fr

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-The attack may be frustration at having gotten lost, relief at having arrived, apology for having gotten laid up, and irritation at having been led so far off track.
-The evolution is hopefully good humor, copious servings, conviviality, kind service, a meal well earned.
-The finish is satisfaction, amusement, a sense that at least there’s a story to tell (the best way to savor a meal), and any apprehension of the journey home tempered by a general sense of well-being.

In the case of the suburban adventures for this article, those dinners also have the taste of samosa, badji, dall, curry, tikka, kormas, vindaloo, tandoori, nan, massala, biryani, lassi, and other Indian offerings for which I claim no expertise, only appetite.

The expertise I left to Fabien Nègre, the gastronomic philosopher and all-round loquacious bon vivant whom I frequently turn to regarding restaurant-related matters. Fabien recently suggested that I join him at two Indian restaurants, the first in Paris’s southern suburb of Le Plessis Robinson, the second in the northern suburb of Asnières. Visitors to Paris are unlikely to have heard of either suburb because they have no known sights or notable riots there.

If seeking Indian adventures within the city limits, skip directly to the second part of this article since the first part concerns restaurants that require some logistical effort if journeying from the center of Paris.

Part I: Suburban Adventures

Rajasthan

I don’t want to discourage anyone from enjoying a decent lamb tikka massala, but it took me 90 minutes by public transportation (metro, suburban train, bus) from the center of Paris to get to Rajasthan in the southern suburb of Le Plessis Robinson. Furthermore, I was late getting started (well, Fabien had told me he’d be in the area all evening and could show up at any time).

Admittedly, there was a limited bus schedule that evening; it should be possible to arrive in less than an hour with good connections. Still, the attack had a distinct taste of “this better be good.” Fabien greeted me with an “I’ve been here since 7” (it was now 10) to which I responded, “We only have an hour before the last bus.”

Having got out of the way, Fabien then introduced me to Chaudhary Maqsood, the owner, whose warm welcome is the kind that one always hopes for after a long journey.

Rather than take the time to survey the menu Fabien and I simply ordered everything and instructed the waiter to keep it coming. For 55 minutes he did. I think that some of it was quite good and some of it was more ordinary and that we were kindly served in a comfortable setting of suburban ease, and I have vaguely fond memories of a lamb tikka massala, or was it a biryani (possibly both), but I was so focused on trying a dozen dishes in record time while listening to Fabien describe the difference between Indian regional cuisine and the state of contemporary French cuisine that I didn’t bother to take notes. Occasionally I had to warn Fabien to cut down on the commentary of the whos and whats the kitchen so that he would eat and we could get out in time.

The fact that our meal was one hour too short is no reflection on the restaurant itself, and in retrospect we could have had an additional 20 minutes if the bus schedule had been correct. I nevertheless include waiting on the street as part of the attraction of this restaurant adventure since it gave us a chance to learn about the origins and Fancilian life of the members of the kitchen staff who were also waiting for the last bus. To hear Fabien discuss Delhi with the dishwasher you’d think they actually grew up in the same neighborhood, but I don’t know if Fabien has ever been further east than Venice.

In short, if you have a long-distance desire for honorable Indian food, a hankering for a glimpse of a relatively peaceable southern suburb, and a good book to read (or Fabien to listen to) on the train, then put Rajasthan on the list.

Rajasthan, 11 Grande Rue, 92350 Le Plessis Robinson. Tel. 01 40 83 09 51. www.restorajasthan.com. Open daily. Take RER B to Robinson then Bus 179, 195, 390 or 395 to the Coeur de Ville stop. The restaurant is then 100 yards away. With waiting time for RER and bus the trip will ideally take about 1 hour from the center of Paris.

Kaveri

Kaveri, named for a river in western India, sits across the highway from a northern whip of the Seine in the working-class suburb of Asnières. The restaurant’s immediate surroundings are actually more given over to middle-class apartments with a view of the Seine, and Loreal has offices nearby. Nevertheless, one doesn’t typically go to Asnières for quality, other than to go to the well-reputed Théâtre de Gennevilliers, which one passes when walking from the metro to the restaurant. Nevertheless, Kaveri is a more polished and slightly pricier restaurant than Rajasthan. It isn’t a high-end restaurant but its spacious, purified décor, relatively devoid of Indian clichés, does lend itself to business lunches and genteel dinners.

Reaching Kaveri by public transportation from the center of Paris should take less than 45 minutes. It’s a straight if bifurcated shot on metro line 13, direction Asnières-Gennevilliers, to the Gabriel Péri stop. The restaurant is then a 15-minute walk (1/2 mile) from the station (have GPS or a map).

Those 45 minutes don’t take into account the haphazard schedule of northbound line 13, whose infamous delays and crowding have led users to accuse the subway system of ignoring their plight in favor of lines servicing wealthier suburbs. (Plans are underway to gradually improve service on the line beginning in 2011.) Once again it took me 90 minutes to get there—again no fault of the restaurant.

This time I hooked up with Fabien while we were both waiting for the metro at Place de Clichy. It was a long, crowded, annoying wait of about 30 minutes, after which we let a few packed trains go by before stepping on, but there is never dead air with Fabien. By the time we arrived at the restaurant I knew a thousand fascinating and forgettable facts about the River Kaveri, the history of line 13, and the life of Didier Gobardhan, the French-Indian owner of the restaurant we were going to test, along with a few things about Younis Mohammad, the Pakistani chef.

Once arrived, Fabien and I again ordered everything on the menu but this time settled in for the long run. All and all it was very good and well spiced though slightly uneven meal (some dishes overcooked). As a starter, the bara kabab (lamb) won out over the tandoori quail, with chicken tikki winning the bronze. For a main course, the butter chicken and the eggplant with prawn were both excellent, and the dal sag added good spinach-and-lentil variety to the meal. I enjoyed a mango lassi and appreciated getting to know Grover Vineyards’ ripe Bordeaux-leaning Indian cabernet sauvignon La Reserve (not that I’m planning on ordering a case).

In short, location, location, location Kaveri has not, but if looking to venture into an unknown suburb with the promise of good butter chicken at the end of the road then it’s well worth considering.

Kaveri, 3-5 quai Aulagnier, 92600 Asnières. Tel. 01 40 86 10 11. www.kaveri.fr. Open daily. Take line 13, direction Asnières-Gennevilliers, to the Gabriel Péri stop. The restaurant is then a 15-minute walk (1/2 mile) from the station (have GPS or a map). Kaveri opened in 2009.

Part II: Urban adventures

Passage Brady, Rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis, La Chapelle

There are two main areas for Indian restaurants in Paris. They’re in separate neighborhoods in the 10th arrondissement but are actually connected as you’ll see below. The more central of the two is Passage Brady, a covered alley that goes from Rue du Faubourg Saint-Martin to Boulevard de Strasbourg and then more picturesquely from Boulevard de Strasbourg to Rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis. Metro stop Strasbourg-Saint-Denis is the point of entry to explore this neighborhood.

I’ve no particular recommendation for Indian restaurants in the passage, which is a polite way of saying that none of them is noteworthy, or as the friend whose office is nearby said when I asked him to he recommended one so that we could have lunch there, “They’re all the same, let’s go somewhere else.”

That shouldn’t deter you from visiting this area because the area surrounding Passage Brady on Rue du Fbg St-Denis is truly one of the most remarkable food streets in Paris. Every return traveler curious about food or ethnic mixes or neighborhood life should put it on his list under the itinerary heading “6:30pm-7:30pm: Wander in unknown neighborhood to work up appetite.”

Here, Indian shops and restaurants coexist in ethnic vibrancy with Black African and North African and otherwise Parisian shops. Easy directions: Start at the arch at the beginning of Rue du Fbg St-Denis and walk north.

The heart of Indian/Pakistani/Sri Lankan commerce in Paris is a 15-minute walk beyond Passage Brady on Fbg St-Denis toward the La Chapelle metro stop, which is why I say that the two Indian areas are actually connected. If out to explore Indian Paris and have a meal, I suggest—for the full rewards of this urban ethnic adventure—visiting Passage Brady and Faubourg St-Denis then walking north, passing scenes of street life (e.g. men gathering by ethnicity outside telephone businesses) and the Gare du Nord train station along the way to the La Chapelle quarter.

The intense subcontinentness of the La Chapelle quarter begins right behind the train station at about #180 rue du Faubourg St-Denis and continues on neighboring Rue Cail, Rue Perdonnet, and Rue Louis Blanc. Somewhat surprisingly there’s a very pretty very French bakery at the corner where Cail meets Louis Blanc, a clear sign that one neighborhood ends and another begins.

The La Chapelle is chock full of inexpensive Indian restaurants, “Indian” being shorthand for Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, and/or Sri Lankan. For what it’s worth, I note that when I asked a Sri Lankan friend (living in the aforementioned suburb of Asnières) to have lunch with me in the area at the restaurant of his choice, he suggested the Sri Lankan restaurant Bharath, and I trust his choice in the matter because I know that his Sri Lankan wife is a very good cook.

Bharath, 51 rue Louis Blanc, 75010 Paris. Tel. 01 42 09 35 84. Metro La Chapelle. At #67 on the same street there’s also a Café Bharath, which is also a restaurant, where I’ve never eaten.

Elsewhere in Paris

Maharaja is a kindly Indian/Sri Lankan find in the Batignolles quarter of the 17th arrondissement. Batignollesis an old-fashion middle-class neighborhood of special attraction to the curious traveler.

Maharaja, 48 rue La Condamine, 17th arr. Tel. 01 43 87 08 22. Metro Place de Clichy, La Fourche, or Rome.www.maharaja-restaurant.com. Open daily.

More bourgeois settings for Indian cuisine are naturally found in upscale areas such as the two following selections on the Left Bank near the river:

New Jawad, 12 avenue Rapp, 7th arr. Tel. 01 47 05 91 37. Metro/RER Pont de l’Alma. Open daily.

Yugaraj, 14 rue Dauphine, 6th arr. Tel. 01 43 26 44 91. Metro Pont Neuf. Closed Mon. all day and Thurs. lunch.

Both are nice, easily accessible, and spiced for French and international taste bud. Where’s the adventure in that?

© 2010, Gary Lee Kraut

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