A memorable meal in Paris

By Frank Whitman

“This more than met my expectations,” I said, with an expression so satisfied that Marsha wanted to take my picture.  The experience?  Dinner at Chez Fred in the charming residential 17th arrondissement.  It was the first stop on a long-planned, much-anticipated visit to Paris.

No Michelin stars, no influencer hype, no gilded decor or unbeatable view, the bistro was on a side street near our hotel.  It caught my attention online with its nearby location and a history that went back to 1945. Something good must be going on.

Indeed it was. 

The L-shaped dining room was divided by the corner entrance. Our table by the window was on the shorter side facing Boulevard Periere where red-checked curtains shielded us from the sidewalk. The longer side ran along Rue Guersant.  Our table shared the space with the bar and the kitchen door, a smaller area (most likely relegated to tourists) that was just right for us. 

Restaurants of this type don’t open for dinner until 7:00. Our 7:15 booking placed us among the earliest patrons, but by the time we left, every table was taken. 

The traditional space with venerable architectural details, a tile floor, culinary art and artifacts, and ceiling lights with frilly glass shades was dominated by the marble-topped bar and colorful bottles behind it.

Our tiny table was dressed with a paper topper emblazoned with the restaurant’s name. Glasses for water and wine were set in a straight line across the middle.  The pattern of our slightly mismatched silver was blurry from years of polishing. A silver ring secured the crisp white napkin. 

Our waiter, a professional (as they are in France), set up the blackboard listing the specials of the day as he took our aperitif orders.

The menu, written only in French (a good sign), listed the usual bistro offerings and a few that went deeper into French culinary traditions.  

Frisée Salad Lyonnaise

Carpaccio, Terrine de Campagne, Escargot and Foie Gras were starters  you would expect to see, while Fillets de Hareng fumé was not. Marsha went for the Frisée Salad Lyonnaise with hearty chunks of tender lard paysan (bacon), a runny poached egg and a tart vinaigrette. Oeuf Mayonnaise (labeled “traditional” in this case) appears on menus across the dining spectrum in France. Recognizable as a Gallic cousin to deviled eggs, they vary widely in the details. Chez Fred’s version included slightly jammy halves of hard-cooked eggs with an egg-mayonnaise mixture piped on top and more mayonnaise below (for flavor and to hold them in place.)  A delicious starter washed down with a glass of Mâcon Blanc.

The French have a “nose to tail” approach to eating, so I was delighted, but not surprised, to see calves liver on the menu.  The Foie de Veau was prepared with raspberry vinaigrette and served with puréed

Oeufs

potatoes “Crémeuse.”  Served in a rich brown sauce, the tender, pink-in-the-center steak benefited from the fruity snap of the vinegar. A remarkable dish that celebrated my return to liver after a long hiatus. 

At our waiter’s suggestion, I enjoyed a glass of Bordeaux, Les Fiefs de Lagrange from the premier commune of Saint-Julien, a delicious cabernet-based red that complimented the dish.

The French also celebrate local, fresh, seasonal ingredients. Marsha chose Turbot, a coastal European fish, from the blackboard menu. Accompanied by spring asparagus and lemon butter, the firm, white fish (not unlike halibut,) was perfectly cooked – easily separating from the bone.

Turbot

Chez Fred is known for its extensive cheese board. A savory course in France, cheese is offered in restaurants across the spectrum after the main course, before dessert.  The selection was tempting, but it was an either-or with dessert, and the sweets won out. 

Marsha had been eyeing the Baba au Rhum since we arrived. The Chez Fred presentation was something else. Rather than soaking the cake in rum right out of the oven, the slices of tender cake came with a swirl of whipped cream and a bottle of Martinique rum.  Soak your own, which we did.

When our waiter came to clear the dessert, he eyed the bottle and our empty plate.  Then, with a grin and a flourish, he tipped a few swallows of rum in our empty wine glasses.  We felt that we had passed muster, moving out of the tourist category into something approaching a regular.

Sadly, like many restaurants, Chez Fred is closed on Saturday and Sunday. Good for them, but those were our only available days for another dinner. If a return visit had been possible, we would have been back.

Food in Paris is legendary.  An afternoon food tour took us to sweet crêpes, chocolates, croque monsieur, escargot, and cheese.  Even so, we barely scratched the surface, especially boulangerie and patisserie, nor did we get to any of the fancy, big-name restaurants. But we’re delighted to have had the memorable experience at Chez Fred.  It was the real deal.