📍 Added in March: I was wandering through the largest Asian neighborhood in Paris, between Place d'Italie and Porte de Choisy, looking for a bite to eat, when I stumbled upon this Thai dessert shop. Here was my chance to explore the Thai dessert universe beyond mango sticky rice, and indeed, I made two discoveries: mooncakes filled with salted eggs and, even more of a stand-out, pandan balls in a shallow pool of salted coconut milk.

📍 Added in March: Fauna is a gathering spot for fashionistas, a coffee mecca, and as close as you can get to Stockholm without leaving Paris. The minimalist décor—light wood, forest-green paint—transports you to Scandinavia, and the soft cardamom rolls confirm your arrival. At lunchtime, it's all about simple home cooking, like the halloumi on dark rye served with rémoulade. Above all, you’re here for the coffee, roasted by the Swedish roaster Koppi and the Danish roaster Coffee Collective.

📍 Added in March: Gibeom Joung, a food writer, and Sookhyun Kim, a self-taught chef, had the excellent idea of opening Ma-shi-ta, a place dedicated to championing Korean cuisine in Paris. Everything here is impeccable. From the sourcing of ingredients to the cooking, it’s all done with heart and soul. The bibimbap is made with love, and the rest of the menu follows suit. I’d make a detour here just for the japchae (sweet potato noodles) and the wine list. That’s how much I love this place.

📍 Added in March: If you’ve found your way to this pastry shop, I’m guessing you were tipped off by a local. Tucked beneath an imposing building, Ginko isn’t what you’d expect to find. At first glance, Sayo Yamagata and Othman El Ouraoui’s cookies and cakes steal the show. But the real stars here are the pastries: The Paris-Tokyo choux with hazelnut and soy, the yuzu tart, and the orange blossom mousse cake meet somewhere between the United States, Morocco, and Japan.

📍 Added in March: I've always been impressed by the work of Marine Gora, the chef and restaurateur. Following the success of Grammes, her famous coffeeshop, she completely revamped it to create Coyote, a queer and lesbian saloon. During the day, the cozy space is perfect for lunch or snacks. In the evening, the lights dim, inviting you to order cocktails and shared plates, like a beautifully seasoned labneh dip topped with Brussels sprouts and kumquats.

This simple, warm, family-run brasserie is one of my favorite spots. Here, the art of service is passed down from mother to son. The same goes for the love of wine: Just take a look at their extensive, well-crafted wine list, which accompanies classic French dishes such as andouillette (a rustic sausage) or bulots (whelks) mayo. Add the ambience and decor of an old Parisian brasserie, and you too will feel right at home.

Few Parisian restaurants stay as true to tradition as this one. The hearty workers’ lunch menu, available every day, could satisfy even the most devoted meat lover. Expect French classics done right: homemade Kintoa pork terrine, an andouillette balanced with tangy sauerkraut, or juicy veal sweetbreads. The wine list is just as solid. One tip? Be punctual—this place is best enjoyed unrushed.

I had come to Arnaud Nicolas on a rainy day for its specialty, pâtés en croûte, when the flan pâtissier caught my eye. Custard tarts and I have a long love story—I’ve been on a long quest to find the best one. That day, I stumbled upon it: the best flan pâtissier I had ever tasted: a creamy, melt-in-your-mouth custard, just the right amount of vanilla bean, and a light puff-pastry crust to hold it all together.

Until the arrival of Sarah Chougnet-Strudel, Au Trou Gascon was an institution gathering dust on the Parisian culinary scene. This chef from Marseille has given it a new lease on life. Today you can expect lively lunchtime set menus, with dishes like cauliflower schnitzel with tartar sauce. Meanwhile, the evening is tradition’s time to shine, with beef tongue, pike dumplings, and cuttlefish vol-au-vent, every dish rounded off with the chef’s personal touch.

Of all the restaurants in Belleville, this well-kept secret is my favorite. Hailing from Zhejiang in China, Beilei and Beilei, the couple who run the place, take diners on a tour of the region, while dabbling in Sichuan cuisine. The menu is long, yet I always order the same thing: shouci baocai—hand-torn Chinese cabbage stir-fried in a wok and served in a Sichuan peppercorn sauce—along with their delicious fried tofu.

A ravenous appetite and a powerful thirst guide me back to Becquetance, time and again. I’m there for two things: the wine list, brimming with exciting discoveries, and the sausage-and-mash served at lunch—a must. However, I’m now drawn back for a third reason: dinner! Owners Vincent Bielhy and Anastasia Rohaut host an impressive roster of chefs-in-residence. Their latest collaborator, Valentin Burteaux, is a master of spice and indulgence.

Best Tofu is the well-kept secret of Belleville locals. People meet here to dig into a Zhejiang-style breakfast: glutinous rice buns stuffed with pork; seaweed soup; steamed stuffed bread; tofu pudding…all washed down with hot soy milk. For those with a sweet tooth, sesame balls filled with azuki bean paste await. Before you leave, don’t forget to buy some tofu to take away—Best Tofu lives up to its name, fermenting its own bean curd on-site.

There are two camps: those who know Hong Kong food, and those who don’t. Bing Sut, a Hong Kong–style coffee shop, speaks to both. On the plates, in the drinks, even on the walls—the culture is everywhere. Order the pineapple buns stuffed with cheese or caramelized pork, egg tarts, Hong Kong lemon tea, and fresh daily specials like noodles with green asparagus, peas, and wild garlic. It’s a beautiful way to travel (without leaving Paris).

I’d been hearing about Bonne Aventure for years, and now I’m cursing myself for not getting here sooner. Nestled in the heart of the Saint-Ouen flea market, this place lives up to its reputation. It’s a joyful place, where the team, led by Alcidia Vulbeau, has been given total creative freedom. The day I visited, the inspiration was Vietnamese—chicken bánh cuốn and a comforting pot-au-phô—and Spanish too, with exceptional churros. I’ll be back soon.

It began with Brigat’, the pastry shop run by two Italian brothers. Four years later came Brigat’gelato, a gelateria that honors Italian tradition with dense churns and top-shelf ingredients. The pistachio speaks volumes. The best part: You can get your scoop in a cone or cup or tucked in Sicilian brioche. I always go for the yogurt gelato. €4.40 for a small cup.

Brion has all the trappings of an ideal business-lunch spot: comfy seats, quiet atmosphere, and impeccable service. A touch of classicism lingers in the air, a legacy from chef Geoffrey Lengagne’s extensive time in Michelin-starred kitchens. At Brion, he turns each dish into a triumph, thanks in large part to glossy, flavorful, comforting sauces that elevate every plate. It’s proof that the classics stay so for a reason.

Between Gare du Nord and Gare de l’Est, Les Deux Gares welcomes all types of travelers: those on a coffee break, busy lunchtime workers, and gourmands who come to soak up the spacious terrace. But it’s the cuisine that truly leaves an impression. It appears simple, crafted from a few ingredients, yet chef Jonathan Schweizer always hits the mark. What stands out most are the flavors and freshness of the vegetarian plates, often with a hint of sea breeze.

To get to this canteen, you enter not on the high street but by walking across an interior courtyard. There, you’ll discover a menu that is part Armenian—with burek (a delicious cheese pastry) and stuffed vine leaves—and part Georgian—with khinkali, the famous Georgian dumplings. People flock here for the atmosphere and the friendly owner. If you want my advice, order lots to share with a group, and let yourself be carried away on a culinary journey!

Adeline and Viet, a French-Vietnamese couple and business partners, are breathing fresh energy into Vietnamese café fare, championing exceptional ingredients at every turn. With Caphette, a Vietnamese coffee shop, they serve up carefully sourced coffee and a selection of savory breakfasts. Look no further than the jaw-dropping Xoi, a bowl of sticky rice, dried pork, and crunchy pickles. To top it all off, Adeline’s sweets showcase her exceptional talents as a pastry chef.

There’s nowhere else in Paris quite like Cendrillon. It’s a unicorn of sorts, with a new menu each week, plenty of barbecue, spice galore, and just as much mezcal. A few menu standbys still hold court, like the Los Passagios World Famous Pig Sando, a pork sandwich worth the trip on its own. You come here as much for the food as for the madness of the place—the wild atmosphere—which can be credited to its four fearless founders: internationals who are afraid of nothing.

There are sandwiches, and then there are sandwiches at Chez Aline. Here, French classics—like chicken pot-au-feu or herring-and-potato salad—get tucked into a baguette. Even the classic jambon beurre stands out, thanks to the high-quality ingredients. Come early to choose from the dozen or so sandwiches chalked up on the board. And while you’re at it, soak in the charm of this former horse-butcher shop, still rich with character.

Carrie Solomon, born in Michigan but based in Paris for the last 20 years, always dreamed of having her own restaurant. An author and chef, she cooked for others before opening a place of her own, called (naturally) Chez Carrie. The restaurant is just like her: understated, elegant, wholesome, joyful, and comforting. Just taste her carrot cake ice cream or scallop tacos to get a sense of the bridge her cooking builds between both sides of the Atlantic.

It can be hard to know where to start if you’re new to La Chapelle, the Indian and Sri Lankan neighborhood of Paris. There are the well-known local classics, such as Muniyandis Vilas, and then there are the more hidden spots, like Chutney Bites. Known for its pani puri (airy fried puffs filled with potatoes, onions, and chickpeas), this Indian restaurant also serves up fantastic thalis, with six delicate curries and a dessert. Go for the vegetarian, my personal favorite.

At Clamato, obviously, you’ll be able to try the namesake tomato-juice-and-clam cocktail, but most importantly, you’ll get a serious iodine boost. Seafood is presented in either its purest form or delicately crafted, like that black mullet with kimchi and pear, or the cockles in vin jaune. This seafood annex of the Michelin-starred Septime is open seven days a week, no reservations needed. Just a heads-up: The bill can climb pretty fast. But trust me, it’s totally worth it!

The restaurant world of Paris is always in flux: Chefs and sommeliers dart in and out, opening their own ventures. In the minimalist decor and the soulful plates at Dandelion, you’ll find echoes of the places where Morgane Souris and Antoine Villard honed their skills. Souris’ carefully curated wine list perfectly complements Villard’s French cuisine. My favorite dish: the veal sweetbreads in tonnato sauce.

In this cozy alcove, the service is warm and personal, and the food is brilliant. Chefs Manon Fleury and Laurene Barjhoux capture, with precision, the fleeting seasonality of their ingredients. First came a delicate flan paired with late-season corn broth, then the showstopper: buttered radishes reimagined with seaweed and pear consommé. I’ve never seen a Michelin-starred restaurant take plant-based cooking to this level.

When you leave Montparnasse train station, you have two options: hop on the Metro or wander the neighboring streets. Opt for the second choice, and before you know it, you’ll come across Claire Damon’s chic patisserie. Dive right in to her seasonal desserts, featuring the fruits of the moment (pears in autumn, citrus in winter). A recent favorite: the Corsican lime tart, which hides a delicious meringue beneath its fondant.

Heads-up to hurried travelers: The Café Les Deux Gares now has a little sibling. The food here is simpler, but the décor is not; this is one of the most beautiful terraces in Paris. Here, I’m torn between the made-to-order sandwiches, the croque monsieur, and the museau ravigote salad. You can linger with a pastry in the afternoon, but come evening, head next door to continue the festivities.

The Belleville neighborhood is buzzing with activity these days, and it’s my favorite place to go for a bánh mì—those Vietnamese sandwiches on baguettes, a legacy from the French colonial era. I’ve sampled all the bánh mì spots there; the best one? Panda Belleville’s vegetarian version, featuring marinated mushrooms, crispy tofu, and mayo. For hearty appetites, go for the large size, and if you’re a spice aficionado, don’t forget to ask for that extra kick of chili.

Paris has become a stronghold for Neapolitan pizzas with that delightfully plump and pillowy crust—you know the type. You’ll find just that at Drogheria Italiana, a cozy little joint with only eight tables. (Get there early, or make a reservation!) They serve up affordable classics, like a margherita, renamed the Drogherita, for €10, alongside thoughtfully crafted creations. With perfectly risen dough and locally sourced ingredients, it’s easily one of my favorite pizza spots!

The top of the “caviar” tin here reads: “No sturgeon, just mermaid.” Like the entire menu, this dish is 100% plant-based. They may look like sturgeon eggs, but they are in fact seaweed from Brittany that has been gelled into tiny pearls. As I dipped potatoes—sometimes dauphine (puffs), sometimes thick-cut fries—into the picture-perfect “caviar,” I marveled at how Faubourg Daimant had so cleverly subverted all the rules.

A place serving natural wine and ice cream sounded a bit too “concept” for my liking, but I ended up eating my words: The Folderol team (also behind Michelin-starred Le Rigmarole) makes the combo work. The wine selection is first-rate, and the ice creams are just amazing—dense and rich in the American style, but made with exceptionally sourced products and topped with a pinch of salt to enhance each flavor. My favorites so far are peanut, cold brew, and sesame.

I’m always on the lookout for new spots; this recommendation came from a winemaker. No sooner said than done—I went three days after picking up the tip. Here, you step onto Taiwanese ground: elegant décor, a fine tea list, and dishes that straddle Taiwan and China. To stay firmly in Taiwan, go for lu rou fan (braised pork over rice) or niu rou mian (beef noodle soup). Wontons, dim sum, and gua bao are also on offer.

I used to come here for the well-crafted cocktails and the atmosphere. After all, Fréquence is one of the leading audiophile bars in Paris, complete with a cutting-edge sound system, one hell of a vinyl collection, and weekend DJ sets. But recently, I’ve also been coming for the Japanese-inspired small plates packed with rich, fried goodness. What could be more comforting than sipping a Negroni while enjoying hash browns with Sriracha mayonnaise and listening to disco hits?

There are two Galernas: the lunchtime one, for workers in a rush (and those who aren’t) looking for a fresh and cheerful midday menu; and the evening one, for those who want to let time fly by while indulging in a smorgasbord of classics from the Spanish canon as well as a few modern twists. You choose how to do things, but for me it’s a no-brainer: I’ve switched to Spanish time, late in the evening. Oh, and the homemade ice creams are also worth the trip.

When you see the noodle-making machine in this small shop, you know you are in for a treat. At Ghido Ramen, not only are the wheat noodles homemade, but the broth is too. Special mention goes to the tonkotsu mayu, the house ramen, with its melting pork belly and fatty, opulent broth made from pork bones simmered for 10 hours. The finishing touch of black garlic oil is just the best. For spice lovers, options like the tonkotsu choyu are also worth a try.

On the advice of the sommelier at Datil, I popped into Gilou, a newcomer to the neighborhood. With its black tables and red-checkered paper tablecloths, Gilou has the appearance of a bistro through and through. Its hearty dishes—calf’s tongue with beans, braised beef with porcini mushrooms, trout with horseradish—confirm it. A special shout-out for the lovely wine list and the hidden terrace that I can’t wait to visit when the weather warms up.

Nestled near Buttes-Chaumont, Glaster opened quietly. From the first bite—okay, first lick, to be precise—I was hooked. This is one of the few places using real fruit (not purée), yielding sorbets that are lush and vibrant, with an irresistibly creamy texture. My go-to: the refreshing hibiscus sorbet. €3.50 a scoop.

Henri Guittet was one of the first pastry chefs to go rogue with ice-cream flavors, balancing acid, fat, and funk like a fine-dining chef. At Glazed, you’ll find signatures, like his Dirty Berry (raspberry, lemon, and sumac), along with some absolute wild cards, like blood sausage with mustard seeds. (We're dealing with a bit of an ice-cream mad scientist here!) My favorite is a classic with a twist: vanilla with hemp seed. €3.90 a scoop.

With its repurposed office-building look, JJ Hings could easily go unnoticed. But the line of happy customers will definitely show you the way to this unusual ice cream parlor. The menu is short and changes often. This summer, I’ve enjoyed nectarine sorbet, milk tea ice cream, and a malt chocolate-and-miso tribute to that industrially produced specialty: the ice cream sandwich. Just imagine how good it is with every component made in-house.

I’ve been following William Ledeuil for years through his cookbooks (Bouillons being my personal favorite). I can’t always make it to Ze Kitchen Gallery, his Michelin-starred restaurant, but Kitchen Terre is a brilliant alternative. Here, his signature cooking shines: bright, citrus-driven, and packed with aromatic herbs and Southeast Asian inspiration. Kitchen Terre provides a lighter, refreshing way to taste his cuisine—you’ll want to come back often.

In Paris, sushi usually falls into two categories. The first: flavorless imitations of what’s done in Japan. The second: top-tier sushi crafted strictly by the book—and painfully hard on the wallet. In between, there are a few hidden gems, one of which is Kokoya. The sushi and sashimi here are worth every penny, whether it’s tuna, marinated mackerel, cuttlefish, and beyond… To truly understand Kokoya’s talents, order the special sashimi menu.

Step into the courtyard of the former Spring Court shoe factory, and the city noise fades instantly. It’s a calm, cozy, hidden pocket of peace in the 11th arrondissement. The food matches the mood: thoughtful, plant-forward, beautifully delicate. For lunch, try the pillow-like homemade ravioli with peas and smoked ricotta or the Fontainebleau apricot ice cream. Come evening, the menu stretches out, and so will your night; it’s hard to leave.

Behind the scenes in the kitchens of the French capital, Tamil staff can often be found washing dishes or working as line cooks. They rarely get the spotlight. But things have changed with La Joie, where Florent Ciccoli has joined forces with Minod Withana Arachchige to launch their very own Sri Lankan restaurant, which champions the finesse and freshness of the cuisine. The egg hopper, a popular Sri Lankan dish, is a banger.

Blink and you might walk past Maison Pourpre: There’s no flashy sign, no elaborate decor. Here, the real star is the food. Expect Chinese hot pots and seafood worth crossing town for. Don’t miss the Hong Kong–style cockles: plump, briny, and coated in a soy and chile dressing that surprises and delights. Here, what’s on the plate is what really matters.

Alexandre Souksavanh grew up in the kitchen of his parents’ Belleville institution, Lao Siam. Now, alongside his brothers, he keeps the family’s Laotian cooking alive with a couple of familiar dishes like crispy rice salad with pork and, my personal fave, raw shrimp with chilli. Thai classics also make their way to the menu, with dishes like tom kha soup infused with galangal. Staying true to their style, the brothers have also introduced a natural wine selection.

It’s not easy finding couscous that’s worth crossing Paris for. But guess what? I’ve finally found it! L’étoile Berbère’s version of this North African delicacy is generous but above all delicious, with a rich broth, airy grains, tender vegetables, and succulent meats. And it’s not just the couscous that’s worth the trip—the sardines, served on Fridays and Saturdays, bring diners from near and far, drawn in by the tempting scent of orange blossom–perfumed harissa.

I admit I need a real reason to get to the 18th arrondissement, on the other side of the Butte Montmartre. But if it means eating at Le Boréal, I’m there. It’s called a bistro, but Le Boréal has all the qualities of a fine-dining restaurant, with its refined and delicate cuisine. I still think about my last visit, devouring sea urchin in vin jaune sauce by the spoonful. It’s a memory I’ve had to sigh over, as the menu changes regularly, much to my delight.

This lively place is buzzing from 8 a.m. to midnight. Brother and sister Louis-Marie and Léa Fleuriot wanted to open a neighborhood restaurant with a bistro-style menu and a top-notch wine list—and they succeeded, hands down. You can enjoy a coffee in the morning, a beer any time, a simple lunch, or a late dinner. Come in the evening to enjoy the atmosphere and the dishes to their fullest: cockles with chili, scotch egg, braised beef with pommes dauphine…. It’s all here.

Theater restaurants are rarely a sure bet. Meant to satisfy hungry theatergoers after a show, they seldom draw applause. That was before Le Canard Sauvage came along. Adjacent to Théâtre Antoine, this restaurant has the air of an English pub but borrows equally from French and British traditions. Credit goes to the English chef Jack Bosco Baker, who pays homage to the great culinary classics like no one else—starting with a superb meat pie.

Behind the red storefront of a Chinese restaurant lies Le Cheval d’Or, an essential spot for Asian fusion cuisine. Here, you’ll hear a mix of languages: Cape Verdean Portuguese, English, and French. On the plate, France and China take center stage with dishes like foie gras wontons in broth or a chile-laden riff on barbajuan. At Cheval d’Or, anything goes, like the Melon Surprise, a nostalgic dessert from the ’80s. To try the duck, be sure to arrive early!

With its scratch cards, ’70s-style bar, and pinball machine, Le Cornichon has all the makings of a neighborhood dive. But I mainly go there for the specials from the kitchen. Every day, you can expect a bistro classic featured on the board: steak with mashed potatoes one day, sausage and cabbage stew the next, fish and chips on Fridays. I much prefer the daytime vibe rather than the evenings; the sunny terrace makes you want to solve all the world’s problems over lunch.

Cyrano is a journey back in time to fin-du-siècle Paris. Everything is there, minus the bordellos: paintings depicting a performance of Cyrano de Bergerac, mercury mirrors, mosaics, and so on. It could easily have become a tourist trap—but it’s not at all. This is a true neighborhood restaurant, open from morning to night. On the plate, as in the glass, the quality is irrefutable, with market-driven cooking that’s fresh and intuitive.

In this charming riverside restaurant, everything is delightfully authentic. First, the ambience: think red Formica tables, faux-leather banquettes, vintage mirrors, and a wooden bar that whispers of bygone eras. And then there’s the menu, a parade of French classics: egg mayo, beef bourguignon, kidneys with mustard sauce, île flottante (floating island), and tarte tatin. And if they are gone from the menu, they’ll be back soon. Authentic too: the wine list, full of classics and hidden gems.

With its fragrant sourdough loaves and perfectly flaky pain au chocolat, Petit Grain has all the charm of a classic neighbourhood bakery—but it’s so much more than that. While you’ll always find the signature kouign-amann and cinnamon rolls, the real gems are the limited-edition creations. These change monthly, and some never return, so don’t miss out! Think matcha flan, buckwheat cream puffs, or the utterly indulgent "cruffin."

Feeling blue? Head to Le Servan. Feeling great? Head to Le Servan. Whatever my mood is, I know I can rely on attentive service and cuisine full of character—always exactly the kind of food I love to eat. The Levha sisters artfully blend traditional French cooking with Asian influences. Nowhere is this more palpable than in the signature dish: wontons stuffed with boudin noir, which alone merit a visit.

Right now in Paris, coffee shops are popping up left and right. While they take their coffee seriously, the same can’t often be said for their food. Les Fanés is an exception. To see for yourself, just bite into the pulled pork roll, perfectly accentuated by pickled onions and housemade ketchup, all tucked into a pillowy brioche bun. If you still have doubts, sip one of their juices, and you’ll be won over.

I’m not much of a meat eater—veggies are my real love. But Lissit won me over, with guinea fowl neck sausage, beef-and-carrot terrine, and pork-stuffed cabbage. They took a bold bet: making meat the star when everyone’s going plant-based. But they do it with finesse—maybe a broth that awakens a dish, or an herb that brightens it up. Special shout-out to the cassoulet, a forgotten classic due for a comeback.

Here, the stars of the show are the famous Korean dumplings known as mandoo and the tartares. The menu is small but does the trick, like the place itself. At the long counter, the chefs prepare everything to order, mincing beef or blowtorching mackerel. Their rhythm is interrupted only to place steaming baskets of dumplings in front of you, including my personal favorite: the kimchi mandoo with fermented cabbage, tofu, and pork.

Full disclosure: Marnes Bleues is my latest baby, joining Soif, my wine shop. I’ve put everything I love into it: a carefully curated selection of natural wines; simple cooking that goes straight to the heart, like a devilishly good polenta with squash and marinated pork; a team of badass women in the dining room and the kitchen; and a warm space where everything was sourced secondhand. It’s my refuge.

A vegan restaurant inside a hotel and spa? I’ll admit, I wasn’t convinced on paper. But one visit changed everything. Here, the drinks are fresh and lively, and the plant-based cooking is vibrant, satisfying, and designed to win over everyone at the table. Think white bean stew with pistachio gremolata, or tacos stuffed with breaded tofu and a punchy salsa. I was tempted to book a return visit straight away.

Getting your hands on the best cookies in Paris, at Mokonuts, wasn’t easy. Sensing the struggle, the Lebanese-Japanese owners, Moko and Omar, opened Mokochaya a few doors down from their bite-sized restaurant. In this elegant café, open from breakfast until le goûter (France’s afternoon snack), Japanese aesthetics reign supreme—from the shelves to the bento, and from lunch to sweet treats, including, of course, my favorite: the addictive, melt-in-your-mouth miso cookie.

The bar is the centerpiece of this narrow space, housing both a large wine selection and turntables. Here, the wine list is as precise as the music that you’ll hear. Théo and Louis, the two founders and avid music lovers, have gone all out with an audiophile sound system—Klipsch speakers, a McIntosh amp—plus a cutting-edge DJ lineup. It’s a great spot to drink, dance, and eat.

A Thai restaurant run by French owners? I was skeptical. Then I took a bite—and was blown away. Every flavor is on point. The chef, a true Thai food lover, respects tradition and doesn't compromise. The classic som tam—green papaya, carrots, peanuts, just the right amount of heat—playfully challenges European palates, while the tom kha kai—chicken, coconut milk, galangal—gently soothes them. It's flawless.

Across from the Gare de Lyon, Olga is a lunchtime lifesaver. (Gone are the days of soggy sandwiches on the train!) Located in a former candy store, the menu here is short but enticing. The baguettes are layered with cheese, vegetables, and herbs; the one I had on a recent visit featured flower-infused tomme cheese, apple, and quince paste. I always pop in before I catch the train, leaving myself an extra ten minutes to grab a coffee, too.

The moment you step through the door, you’ll see that this isn’t your traditional pizzeria. Here, the pizza is all decked out, dressed up with red onions, or perhaps (sometimes ?) sweet corn. Heresy, you say? A single bite dissolves any skepticism. It starts to all make sense, in large part thanks to the sourdough crust, fermented for 36 hours. These gourmet pies may cost more than a classic pizza, but they’re undeniably worth it.

At the helm of this restaurant stands Sicilian chef Fabrizio Ferrara, an emblem of Italian cooking in Paris. Having honed his skills in fine-dining establishments, he now channels his passion into crafting simple yet generous dishes reminiscent of an authentic Italian trattoria. In his elegant osteria, you’ll find perfectly cooked clam pasta, delicate fresh ravioli, and zucchini blossoms stuffed with cuttlefish. It’s a place where the atmosphere and the food make you feel right at home.

After years juggling Italian and French cooking, Alessandro Candido and Camille Guillaud have made the call: Italian it is. The menu here ranges from cucina povera—like polpette cacio e uova, meatball-like mounds of cheese served with a sweet-and-sour tomato sauce—to more bourgeois fare like linguine with crab bisque and shrimp. The pasta alone is reason enough to return, almost as much as the unforgettable tiramisu, the best I’ve ever eaten on either side of the Alps.

Panorama is a restaurant-bakery whose ethos boils down to: “Bread is life, and so are our ingredients!” Expect sourdough—baked on-site and made with heritage flours—featured across the menu. It encases pan-fried mushrooms and Tomme des Alpes in the grilled cheese and is sprinkled as breadcrumbs over a comforting onion soup. It also sometimes shares the limelight with focaccia or other breads, which, unsurprisingly, have been crafted with just as much love and skill.

With its turntables and neon lights, Pantobaguette gives off a dance-y bar vibe, even though most patrons come here for the Japanese izakaya–inspired cuisine. In dishes like takoyaki (octopus balls) with mirin-infused mayonnaise and white tuna sashimi with kombu, Chef Antonin Girard draws inspiration from Japanese techniques to elevate locally sourced ingredients. It’s the perfect spot for sharing. Friendly advice: If you’re on a date, opt for a seat at the counter!

Parcelles’ wine list is renowned throughout Paris and beyond. Crafted with care and well stocked, it perfectly complements their flavorful and generous French cuisine. Indulge in a pâté de tête with parsley, a delicately breaded flounder, or sage-infused rolled lamb. The ambience? Utterly charming, from the service to the vintage decor that transports you to another era of Paris. This place is busy, so reserve a month ahead for lunch or two weeks in advance for dinner.

Paris has all kinds of pastry shops: the flashy, the gloomy, and the ones where you can tell right away they know what they’re doing. Mélilot falls into the last category. This pastry shop doesn’t rely on its decor, which is very simple: an open kitchen and a counter. Here, it’s all about the ingredients. From cream puffs to opera cake to the signature Mélilot flan, everything has an addictive, not-too-sweet quality that will leave you craving more.

During a fall lunch at Paulownia, time seemed to pause. Perhaps it was the sunlight streaming through the bay windows, or the laidback warmth of the staff, or the flawless homages to French gastronomy. Or maybe it was simply the pigeon, perfectly roasted, paired with a rich jus and crispy offal. Every dish hit with emotion and finesse—a masterclass in flavor that I’ll be thinking about for a long time.

Plaq is renowned for its bean-to-bar chocolate, crafted on-site. Inside this workshop in the 2nd arrondissement, cocoa beans are roasted, crushed, and ground into bars. That chocolate is then transformed into pistachio-chocolate spread, pralines, and...ice cream. My favorite is the dark chocolate sorbet. €8 a cup.

Nestled in a cobbled, pedestrian area, Ploc has the feel of a village restaurant miles from Paris. Its no-frills bistro fare is so comforting. You can indulge in perfectly cooked whelks, aioli with the ideal garlic kick, Béarnaise sauce generously drizzled over steak frites, and a crème caramel with a mirror-like finish. In other words, it’s hearty, unpretentious cuisine—exactly what I want to eat when I’m looking for comfort and coziness.

In 2010, the restaurant-quality burger became a trend in France. Places opened, closed, opened again, closed again. Through it all, the hamburger endured. A few places became untouchable classics; PNY—short for Paris New York—is one of them. Founded in 2012, it now counts close to fifteen locations across France, without sacrificing quality. The bestseller, the Return of the Cowboy, deserves a shout-out: a juicy beef patty, onion ring, and a truly memorable barbecue sauce.

Everything about this Thai wine bar feels cozy: the dark-wood interiors, the warm lighting, the generous welcome—oh, and May Li’s cooking. The Bangkok-born chef delights with dishes like pork-stuffed dumplings in fragrant tom yum broth and a fiery, flavor-packed spicy pork-neck salad. The short but carefully curated wine list completes the experience. This small spot fills up fast, so book ahead.

There was a time when good ice cream in Paris was rare. There were the old-school shops, the chains, and a few hidden gems. One day, a friend whispered to me: “Pozzetto.” For 20 years now, their pistachio flavor—intense, pure, deeply roasted—has been my weakness. I visit them year-round, winter included. €4 a scoop.

Long the domain of caterers, vol-au-vent had lost some of its luster. The proudly meat-forward Quedubon restores this classic to its former glory. They don’t make ’em like this anymore: a cylinder of housemade puff pastry, juicy black trumpet mushrooms, generous chunks of bacon and guinea hen, and an exemplary jus to brighten it all up.

Since my trip to Georgia, I hadn’t tasted anything that captured the same flavors. Then I stumbled upon Qvevri, a Georgian spot full of Georgians—always a good sign. And it had it all: lobio, that rich bean stew; pkhali, a mix of nuts, herbs, spices, veggies, and house-baked bread; and the megruli khachapuri, a cheesy, decadent bread. One forkful, and the memories came right back.

I have a confession to make: I’ve never been to New York. I only know Italian-American cuisine through books. Yet once at Red Sauce, a champion of its namesake cuisine, I recognized all the hallmarks: a diner-style dining room with red everywhere, right down to the plates, where tomato sauce reigns supreme. Here, the U.S. and Italy shake hands in every dish—Caesar salad, irresistibly soft Detroit-style pizza, meatballs, garlic bread, and so on.

Cuisine will make you lose your sense of time and space. The plates act as bridges between France and Japan, like the signature dish of decadent, deep-fried karaage-style pigeon or the delicate monkfish liver soaked in the house ponzu sauce. It’s all so refined—just like the setting. You become immersed in a timeless, intimate ambience, and the wine list only adds to the effect.

It had been several years since we last heard from Esu Lee, the Korean chef from the sorely missed CAM. He’s now back with Jip, a pocket-sized restaurant where diners eat shoulder to shoulder, practically inside the kitchen. And what a kitchen! I loved the rich, intense chicken-and-ham-hock stock served with noodles and peppercorn sauce and the sweet-potato-and-mushroom mandu (dumplings) drenched in béarnaise sauce. This is French-Korean fusion at its finest.

The kitchen at Mieux pulsates with energy, and the dining room buzzes right alongside it. With every bite, you can tell the very best has been brought out of each ingredient. It’s no surprise, considering the care with which they were selected, directly from farmers. Extra props are in order for the astounding red tuna crudo with clementines, yuzu, and fermented chilies, as well as for the side dishes—like mashed potatoes or glazed veg—that often steal the show.

Paris might be overflowing with Neapolitan pizza, but Roman-style— thin, crisp, light—was still waiting for its moment. Rory finally gives it a stage, with a playful nod to American pizza culture: big slices, casual bites, recipes that don’t always stick to tradition. My top pick? The potato pie, topped with scamorza, mozzarella, and tender spuds. It’s perfect to share on the spot or grab to go.

A great sandwich is no simple feat. It takes a certain talent to achieve the synthesis of fat, crunch, and pillowy chew. Well, Sandwichette: Mission accomplished! A bite of their best-selling tuna melt—with spring onions, gherkins, tuna, just the right amount of cheddar, and a hit of chili—and I was a believer. Don’t miss their creations of the moment, like a vegetarian sandwich with crispy rice.

The term hole-in-the-wall could have been invented for this place. In this discreet restaurant—despite its garish colors—you’ll find nothing less than some of the best Vietnamese cooking in Paris. To be convinced, try the bò lá lốt, grilled beef wrapped in lolot leaves, or the bánh cuốn tôm, steamed rice crêpes filled with shrimp and mushrooms. Sao Mai is starting, rightly so, to get noticed—don’t hesitate to book.

Alsace is renowned for its rich, hearty cuisine, with one dish standing out among the rest: the tarte flambée. All over France, people try to call it by its Alsatian name, flammekueche, but in Alsace, they simply say tarte flambée. Good to know if you want to order it at Chez Schmoutz, where this is the only dish on the menu! It’s prepared in classic form: pastry base, crème fraîche, Muenster cheese, bacon, and onions, always baked in a wood-fired oven.

Former palace hotel chefs—from Shangri-La and Imperial Treasure—have ventured into the buzzing 11th arrondissement to open SENsation. They follow the rules of Chinese cuisine to the letter, meaning that the Peking duck is cooked to perfection while the siu mai (pork and shrimp dumplings from Guangdong) are like soft pillows. The prices, although lower than in luxury hotel restaurants, are still high, befitting a gourmet Chinese restaurant.

Soces is the antidote to the Sunday blues. Its dining room, caught between two eras—the Belleville of yesteryear and today—can’t help but restore your spirits. The plates, for their part, nourish the body. Soces has it all: well-executed cuisine, like Paimpol beans (fresh white beans from Brittany) with beurre blanc; thoughtfully crafted cocktails, my favorite being the spicy margarita shot served with an oyster; and even an oyster bar for a lunch of the daily catch.

After years of crisscrossing France, mingling with winemakers, and setting up natural wine bars at music festivals, we opened our very own wine haven. And when I say “we,” it’s because this cellar was born from the creative minds of yours truly and my business partner, Vincent Ribault. Wine is served from the tap or in bottles, along with small plates and artisanal cheeses. Keep your eyes peeled—you might just bump into a local winemaker or taste the cuisine of a visiting chef!

There aren’t many places in Paris where you can eat truly great seafood. Sur Mer is in my top three and has quickly become a Sunday staple. It’s worth a visit for the seafood platter and wine list alone, but the best part is chef Olive Davoux’s cooking, which transforms these sublime little marine jewels. Go for the raw sea bream with lemon purée or the imperial prawns with sweet-and-sour rhubarb sauce.

Paris may be full of Bretons, but a good galette (savory crêpe) is still hard to come by. The best names are whispered like secrets; Tanguy is one of them. You’ll come for the space, an old bakery that’s kept its charm, but mostly for the amazing crêpes, served just like back home: crispy, buttery, and paired with a solid cider selection. What makes Tanguy stand out are the ingredients, like the traditional sausage andouille de Guéméné, which are carefully sourced.

Tapisserie is part of the new French pâtisserie scene, where less sugar doesn’t mean sacrificing indulgence. Here, you’ll find classics, like flan or cream puffs infused with sweetgrass, alongside seasonal creations, like a citrus tart in winter or a raspberry Fontainebleau in summer. The modestly stocked display window changes often, hinting at another trend in pastry: seasonality.

When I was a student in the 5th arrondissement, I was always looking for a cheap lunch, too often at the expense of quality. The neighborhood hasn’t changed; hungry students are still there. But over time, some good eateries have sprouted up. Among them is TRAM Café, which offers a top-notch croque monsieur all day long: lots of cheese, good sandwich bread, quality ham, and a pinch of truffle salt. The pastries, meanwhile, are not to be outdone.

In Paris, finding good sushi isn’t easy. You have to know where to look, and it can be a journey. If you’re lucky, your search might come to an end on Rue des Ciseaux, at Tsukizi. Here, behind a long, narrow sushi bar, three chefs work diligently, crafting each piece of sushi to perfection. One piece of advice, or rather two: Come for lunch, as the midday special is easier on the wallet than dinner, and skip the mains, going all in on the sushi.

At Tunis-Tunis, in the Tunisian Jewish quarter of Belleville, the real magic happens on the plate, not in the decor. Traditional Tunisian dishes take center stage: brick à l’oeuf (an egg-filled pastry), hearty chorba soup, and a vibrant Mechouia salad meant to be sopped up with soft brioche. Let’s not forget the fricassé, a Tunisian sandwich (also available to-go) that’s a crispy, fried delight, filled with tuna, hard-boiled eggs, potatoes, black olives, capers, and a fiery kick of harissa.

At Ukiyo Ramen, Céline Li and Guillaume Lam are shaking up tradition. Their cooking borders on fusion cuisine—or a Japanese cuisine that’s done a lot of traveling. You’ll see it in the nori and rice chips to dip into toum, a Lebanese garlic cream, or the Golden Shoyu Ramen: a broth with a curry-and-yuzu-infused oil, topped with pata negra pork. There’s a lot of (brilliant) madness in these dishes.

If not for the accents sported by the chefs and the servers, you’d be forgiven for thinking this was a garden-variety French restaurant. Yet the menu reveals an Alpine love story through dishes like tagliatelle with wild boar ragu and skillfully crafted vitello tonnato, the tender veal playing off the creamy tuna-anchovy sauce. And don’t forget the Italian-leaning wine list, a treasure trove for connoisseurs and newbies alike.