Save this story Save Story Save this story Choosing the best Paris restaurants is a fool’s errand. It depends on your mood, what you’re craving, and how a particular spot on a particular night lines up. Even for a Paris-based food journalist who lives and breathes the restaurant scene, keeping up with new openings while making time to revisit the institutions feels like a marathon with no finish line. Paris is insatiable.
That’s part of what makes Paris the dynamic city it is today, bursting at the périph with creative energy. Classics continue to reinvent themselves. Neo-bistros sprout like springtime wisteria on both banks, no longer clustered in the 11th. Chefs pop up and collaborate. They champion one another. They cook with joy and often seem as excited about the scene as the diners who sustain it. The city’s non-classic French cuisines, having arrived through colonization, immigration, or a mix of both, form the fabric of Paris and have only grown more versatile.
Some of the most delightful experiences are found in the surprising and the unexpected: the restaurant on an unremarkable street in the 20th arrondissement with wood-paneled walls and cooking that rivals the technique and care of heavy-tablecloth spots in the Golden Triangle; the intimate, Scandinavian-sleek counter in the 4th arrondissement, where the fresh-faced chef decorates your plate with a thumb-sized, barely dressed bundle of herbs picked earlier that day from the restaurant’s garden in Montreuil. They’re also found in the soul-warming comfort of consistency: the reliably tingly green curry at Belleville’s favorite Thai-Laotian restaurant; the peppery bite of the silky sauce on the petit filet mignon at the cult-worthy bistro that is worth the hype.
There are countless great restaurants in Paris worth trying. But when it comes to the best, these are the ones that make you want to return.
Opened in 2025 in the Parmentier neighborhood of the 11th, Lissit is a restaurant for gourmands. Behind the petite spot that quickly became a Paris scene is Claire Grumellon, previously of Vaillant, who forms part of the rising tide of young chefs reviving the art of charcuterie, alongside Alexis Lissitzky, formerly of Soces, who oversees the dining room and the carefully sourced wine list, which spans from classic and biodynamic to natural and funky—from a Domaine Pierre Prieur Sancerre to Domaine Grain par Grain by winemaker Caroline Ledédenté.
There are plenty of dishes for the faint of heart, like the excellent oeufs mayo with a sliver of pickled herring, and line-caught Vendée mackerel with pepper sauce. But the true joy of Lissit is for the bold eaters, unafraid to dig into quail’s neck sausage (excellent, surprisingly un-gamey) and their famed tarte Tatin boudin poire —a mashup of the classic dessert, swapping apples for pears, and layered with blood sausage. Per Alexis, even the PFW set can’t resist this dish that hits all the sweet and savory and buttery notes.
Photo: Hemis / Alamy Stock Photo Le Bistrot Paul Bert has become a modern-day institution, alongside spots like Le Baratin and Septime. (Gift Shop, unsurprisingly, teamed up with them to offer a signature line of swag .) Opened in 1997 by Bertrand Auboyneau and partner Gwénaëlle Cadoret, it’s the always bustling 11th arrondissement destination for well-executed classics like steak au poivre , a blushing filet mignon with glossy pepper sauce, a nest of crispy fries on the side, and Dover sole meunière with buttery new potatoes. Desserts can be as simple and satisfying as field-grown strawberries with a tuft of raw cream. Reservations are recommended, though sometimes tricky to come by. Next door, La Cave Paul Bert, which features a rotating cast of pop-up chefs, is a solid walk-in only alternative, with an excellent wine selection.
Ask a native Parisian about the must-try dishes in their city, and, if they know their stuff, you can bet they’ll name-check the saucisse purée at Les Arlots in the 10th arrondissement. The signature dish, which Chef Thomas Brachet tweaks every year or so, is a beautifully browned, crispy-skinned sausage, packed with herbs like sage and rosemary, topped with chopped chives and served on a pillowy bed of whipped, mashed potatoes made with AOP Pamplie butter, pooling with deeply savory homemade jus . Aside from the famed sausage, Chef Brachet’s menu changes regularly, and the dishes are always a bit lusty: tender scallop tartare topped with toasted hazelnuts and dainty wildflowers; a well-confit’d duck leg served with potatoes sautéed with wild garlic. For dessert, don’t skip the chocolate mousse, a blend of three fine chocolates enriched by farm-fresh eggs, no cream.
As reservations can be tricky, their next-door sister cave à manger, Billili, is a solid alternative for an apéro—wine (mostly natural) and thinly sliced saucisson or generously mayo’d oeufs mayo —or a succession of small, shareable plates like a crisp green bean salad and Réunionese steamed dumplings stuffed with umami-rich pork. Walk-ins are welcomed by the smiley servers, but arrive early (before 7 p.m.) to score a seat.
Photo: Courtesy of Le Baratin On a narrow street off the rue de Belleville hill, Le Baratin is the OG bistro that influenced a generation of chefs, including Iñaki Aizpitarte (of the mythic Chateaubriand). Opened in 1987, Argentine chef Raquel Carena has led the kitchen since day one, preparing honest, hearty bistro cuisine.
The two snug dining rooms feel homey, decorated with books (like La Vie de Léon Tolstoï ) and a portrait of Samuel Beckett. The daily menu, written in cursive on a blackboard, makes the rounds of the dining rooms, with starters like head cheese and pig’s foot terrine; mains like oxtail parmentier, sweetbreads with new potatoes and Swiss chard, and cuttlefish ragout in tomato sauce. Wines are scrawled on a separate board next to the bar, with a selection that leans French, starting at €7 a glass, while most bottles are priced in the mid-€40s.
The hill that slopes from lower to upper Belleville is lined with laidback bars and restaurants. But only one has a line winding out the door and up the hill most evenings—Lao Siam. The family-owned, second-generation Thai-Laotian restaurant, opened by the Souksavanhs in 1985, is a favorite among locals and Paris chefs—always a sign worth following. It’s a relatively sprawling (and kid-friendly) space, where the service is speedy, and the cooking always hits.
The secret ingredient here is consistency. For over four decades, the menu has remained unchanged—nicely spiced papaya salad, crispy fried chicken with chili sauce and pickles, green curry with shrimp, pineapple stuffed with shrimp, sausage and dried pork, and much more. It’s a comfort food spot that works equally well for a celebratory meal or a quiet Sunday night dinner.
Photo: Courtesy of Chez L’Ami Jean In 2002, Stéphane Jégo took over a humble Basque tavern in the 7th arrondissement and breathed new life into it, turning L’Ami Jean into one of Paris’s iconic bistronomy spots. The idea here is to keep the focus on the cuisine, not the space, which nonetheless charms with its red leather banquettes and tiled floors. The chef’s style is rustic and French at heart, with winks at the location’s Basque roots—dishes like roasted octopus with smoked paprika, tomato salad with Bayonne chili and burrata, the chef’s dad’s country terrine , roasted pigeon with thyme, and butter-roasted sweetbreads. Carnivores have plenty of dishes to taste and the true challenge is finishing them—portions are generous. The wine list traipses around l’hexagon , with carefully selected French bottles and glasses, from Burgundy and Loire whites to characterful reds from Saint-Émilion, Savigny-lès-Beaune, and beyond. Rice pudding might be giving nana’s favorite dessert, but this one, with roasted nuts and homemade caramel sauce, receives rave reviews from serious eaters across the board.
Photo: Dan Pearson There are many pizza places in Paris, and there are many pizza places that claim to be the best in Paris—and there are some pizza places that inexplicably have hour-long waits for mediocre pies. Oobatz, opened in 2024 by the team behind Le Rigmarole, isn’t particularly loud on the media side. And they don’t have to be. With chef and co-owner Dan Pearson in the kitchen, they quietly churn out some of the tastiest pizzas, on sourdough crusts, in the French capital. I don’t know anyone who’s ever had a subpar meal at Oobatz.
It starts with the crust—thin but sturdy enough to support toppings, a subtle but noticeable hint of salt. And those toppings—always changing, always seasonal in that particular French way (asparagus and new potatoes with lemon confit in the spring, beautiful, barely sweet garden-fresh squash in the summer), leave you wanting to return to try more. The drink menu, with well-chosen IPAs, lagers, and lambics, and natural wines by the glass or pichet , feels on brand for this straightforward, delicious pizzeria.
Photo: Léo Kharfan As a New York native who's lived a few years in Spain, my heart yearns for a well-stirred dirty martini and a proper Spanish tortilla—both surprisingly hard to track down in Paris. Winona, a new cocktail bar and restaurant in the 11th, helps right these wrongs. Open since July, it’s already a scene. The space is a sexy take on the Parisian bistro, with a horseshoe-shaped bar topped with Bordeaux-hued marble, a lacquered ceiling, and finished concrete walls, white with dabs in a deep red hue that calls to mind pata negra.
A recent dinner began with the Winona dirty martini—petite and properly briny. My dinner mate ordered the Piparita Margarita, and while Yves Carlier's cocktail menu is thoughtful and precise, they weren't sticklers, happy to sub in mezcal as requested. The tortilla rivaled some of the best I've tasted in Bilbao's Casco Viejo: firm outside, barely set inside, begging you to mojar el pan—soak it up with a hunk of sourdough. Smaller dishes like warm, pickled figs with funky Roquefort are easy crowd-pleasers. Mains like the impressive red tuna belly felt like a refined version of a menú del día in Madrid—a hefty, bone-in fillet served with thin-sliced fried potatoes splashed in vinegar and crisp garlic. Chef Cecilia Munguira, the Madrid-born, Gijón-raised young chef, makes a strong case for showing more love to France's neighbor to the south.
Photo: Timothée Chambovet / Courtesy of 19 Saint Roch Chef Pierre Touitou made a name for himself at the vibey 10th arrondissement spots Vivant and Déviant, which drew chic crowds for their great cooking, excellent wine, and hip-hop playlists. 19 Saint Roch is Touitou’s latest project and feels like a coming of age of sorts. In the 1st arrondissement, it’s just a few skips from the Tuileries Gardens. It may be a bit more buttoned-up, but the fresh, seasonal, technically on-point cooking remains. It’s also a welcome addition to a central Paris neighborhood that’s a bit short on great restaurants you’d want to become a regular.
The succinct menu features amuse-bouches like Touitou’s take on the Cantonese lo bak go , or turnip cake; sophisticated entrées like poached veal brain with tomato confit and a Basque pilpil sauce; and mains like a delicate steamed skate wing with Sichuan spices, rounded off with a few well-chosen cheeses and seasonal sweet creations. At a recent lunch, I was taken with the presentation, served at an unhurried pace on vintage-looking porcelain with floral edges. When Paris visitors ask me where to book, 19 Saint Roch has become one of the spots I always recommend.
Photo: Courtesy of Bittikesu Arriving an hour before your reservation is usually a faux pas , especially when you’re dining solo, but the first time I ate at Bittikesu, Jules St. Cyr’s new restaurant in a quiet pocket of the 4th arrondissement, it turned out to be a happy accident. My embarrassment vanished like the pét-nat in my glass as I chatted with the Montreal-born chef about his time cooking in Copenhagen (at Noma, among other restaurants) and his travels throughout China. The earthy, Nordic influence appears throughout the space, mixed with Chinese touches: a smooth Burgundy oak counter that seats 14 diners, stone worktops in the kitchen, restored wooden ceiling beams fitted with paper lantern-esque light fixtures, and a single bouquet of bay leaves hanging above a sleek wooden bench near the entrance.
The tasting menu progressed through a succession of small bites on handmade ceramic plates, from a bundle of herbs from Bittikesu’s garden in Montreuil—essentially the Brooklyn of Paris—to “tear” peas with silken tofu and a perfect fillet of mackerel topped with chrysanthemum. The entire experience feels intimate, like a dinner party at a design-savvy friend’s place. You might walk in as a solo diner and find yourself chatting all night with newfound friends.
Photo: Paul Lombard / Courtesy of Paulownia If one spot can be considered the rage in Paris right now, it’s Paulownia. Co-owners Tess Duteil and Geoffrey Belin, sommelier and chef, respectively, met during their time at L’Arpège. At Paulownia, which opened in 2023, they bring the precision and thoughtfulness of a Michelin-starred temple to a sleepy street in the 20th arrondissement, formerly home to a lovely paulownia , or foxglove, tree—hence the restaurant’s name.
At Paulownia, the daily lunch and dinner menus depend on the day’s deliveries from regional producers. They source meat mostly from Normandy and work with a trusted fishmonger in Le Guilvinec, Brittany, for impeccably fresh seafood. Seated at the counter before the open kitchen, watching the team work quietly like a four-person ballet, we feasted on lightly grilled turbot with a Savagnin-kissed beurre blanc and roasted Burgaud duck with tender, stewed prunes. The mille-feuille dessert, layered with creamy almond-hazelnut cream, was ethereally light—as it should be. Tess, a former caviste, regularly visits their winegrowers and brings the same thoughtfulness to Paulownia’s wine list.
Photo: Courtesy of Waly Fay At Waly Fay, a West African bistro in the 11th arrondissement dating back to the early aughts, I had one of the most delightful lunches in recent memory. An open kitchen is the heart of the spacious dining room, with exposed brick walls, vintage Gispen chairs, and industrial tables set with wax paper.
It’s tricky to choose what to order from the expansive menu, a collaboration between Cameroonian chef Jeannie Tientcheu and Senegalese chef Dalla Sankare. Starters include golden cod fritters and Ivorian alloco , or fried plantains, an excellent sucre-salé way to start a meal. For mains, you’ll find Nigerian jumbo shrimp in a Creole sauce scented with fresh ginger and Senegalese chicken yassa—fall-apart-tender chicken stewed with caramelized onions, lime, and green olives, all served with sticky broken rice. If you’re not sufficiently stuffed, there are several sides to add on, including attiéké , a cassava-based couscous, and chikwangue , cassava cakes wrapped and steamed in banana leaves.
The dishes are unfussy and comforting but nail all the details: my maffé had just the right touch of spice and the texture of organic peanut butter; ribbons of steamed carrot and a sprinkling of freshly chopped parsley brought it to the next level.
Photo: Vincent Leroux A meal at a “Palace” hotel—the highest luxury designation doled out by the French government—rarely disappoints. But my meals at Cheval Blanc Paris have consistently been exceptional. Hakuba, the brainchild of chefs Takuya Watanabe and Arnaud Donckele (the sauce master behind Plénitude as well), along with pastry chef Maxime Frédéric, is a standout in Paris’s growing Japanese culinary scene.
On the hotel’s ground floor, the restaurant is designed to feel organic and soothing—a tsukubai stone and bamboo fountain trickles near the entrance, while black walnut walls evoke the forest. With glassware from Kyoto and ceramics from southern Japan, the Omakase menu combines the finest French and Atlantic coast ingredients. It’s a decadent experience—the “Yume” menu will set you back €420, and if you’re feeling particularly indulgent, there’s an optional sea urchin temaki for €30 and fresh truffle for €95.
Photo: 11h45 / Courtesy of Maison Sota Maison Sota is one of those restaurants that Paris chefs consistently name as one of their favorites. The space alone is unlike most anything you’ll find in Paris—down a narrow 11th arrondissement alley, an airy maison with exposed wooden beams, peach-toned terracotta floor and wall tiles, and an open kitchen with the wood-fired oven on display. A 26-foot-long wooden table sits at the heart of the restaurant, though counter seats offer a front-row view of Chef Sota Atsumi’s cooking. The menu (five courses for lunch, seven for dinner) showcases the chef’s honed French techniques with Japanese touches—dishes like wood-fire grilled peas with brown shrimp, a pea jus , kombu butter, and rich egg yolk; sweets like their golden “blown sugar dessert” with lychee foam, green kiwi, pomelo, candied kumquat, and bergamot oil.
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Source: Lifestyle
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