French cuisine has been marked by a number of different movements throughout its long history, one of the most recent of which has been bistronomy. This portemanteau of bistro and gastronomy was coined by coined by journalist Sébastien Demorand in 2004 to describe a wave of fine dining chefs revitalizing then-tired bistros with more precision, better ingredients, and a few aesthetic touches from their mostly Michelin-starred backgrounds.
The sign of a true culinary movement is that it’s not a flash in the pan. But while bistronomy is definitely still all the rage more than two decades hence, the term has lost a bit of its original verve. These days, the vast majority of upper-mid-range restaurants in France categorize themselves as “bistronomic,” and I’d argue that few actually deserve the moniker. These days, the term has become so widespread as to have lost a bit of its original interest, but if you want to sample that original marriage of bistro flavors and fine dining flourishes, you’re in luck. Bistronomy, after all, got its start thanks to Chef Yves Camdebore, who instigated the trend here, at La Régalade.
Well, kind of.
Camdeborde’s original Régalade was located in the 14th arrondissement, in a space now occupied by Les Petits Parisiens, which is still doing a phenomenal job of delivering on the bistronomic promise. He sold that restaurant to Bruno Doucet in 2005, who sustained its bistronomic heritage and opened a second outpost of the restaurant just steps from the Louvre in 2010. Today, he still runs La Régalade Saint-Honoré according to the principles of bistronomy: serving generous, bistro-inspired cuisine with heaps of fine dining flair.
The dining room itself is perhaps your first hint at what’s in store, blending rustic exposed beams and a sober black-and-red palate complete with a velvet curtain to keep out the winter chill. The menu, too, is definitely a departure from the more classic bistro in both presentation and price, with an imposed three-course sequence at 59 euros encompassing a range of appetizers, mains, and desserts. This offering is joined by a range of seasonal “coups de coeur” available at a significant upcharge, like roasted Brittany scallops with seasonal truffle (+24) or wild duck with mushrooms and vegetables (+18).
Things start strong with a complementary slate of house terrine, which is laced with liver and a fairly floral pepper or perhaps a touch of mace. It’s exactly the consistency I hope for with terrine, and the jar full of cornichons is a welcome touch to balance its delectable richness.
The only ding wasn’t actually the terrine itself but the bread that accompanied it, which could have been way better, especially given the state of sourdough in Paris these days…
Appetizers effortlessly dip into the bistro annals for inspiration, with options like escargots, here roasted in potato shells and served with an herb cream, mushrooms, and poached egg. Tartare isn’t beef but veal, seasoned with lime, watercress, and aged mimolette.
My dining companion opted for the creamy leek and watercress soup, which was poured tableside over croutons and cubed Comté and Paris ham: a lovely fine dining flourish. Creamy and rich, the soup was perhaps wanting for a touch of salt but otherwise lovely.
I was a bit less impressed by the celery root “carbonara,” with parmesan, organic egg yolk, and crispy bacon. The dish wanted for acidity – or even a generous grind of black pepper – for some relief from the richness, and the foam felt out-of-step with current trends in fine dining.
The beef bourguignon is one of the house signatures for good reason. Here, the hearty stew is made with beef paleron, which is slow-cooked in a beef stock reduction just barely kissed with wine. The result is a play on bourguignon that’s devoid of the acidity you’ll find in most versions of this dish, instead managing to deliver flavors that are deeply beefy and aromatic.
I loved the service in the Staub cookpot, especially seeing as it hid, at the outset, the intricate assembly of the dish itself. A carrot purée lining the bottom lent a touch of sweetness to the fork-tender beef, and the lardons, carrots, and mushrooms were cooked separately for a harmonious addition.
Mains on the menu may also feature pepper-roasted duck with stuffed mushrooms, seared tuna with pommes Anna and artichoke purée, or cod with Paimpol beans and chorizo. Vegetarians get a touch of lip service with ever-present gnocchi or couscous, which seem to me to lack creativity.
On our visit, the star dish was undoubtedly the Basque slow-cooked pork belly, which married crispy and tender textures to perfection. It was served on a bed of Puy green lentils cooked with smoky Morteau sausage, and a small, crunchy salad on top lent exactly the sort of freshness such a rich, hearty dish requires.
For dessert, expect options like rice pudding with caramel, Grand Marnier soufflé, seasonal fruit tart, or chocolate mousse revisited like a Snickers. I made a slightly unfortunate choice in picking the chestnut cream tartlet, whose inborn stodginess wasn’t balanced as much as I’d hoped by the promised clementine marmalade. Unfortunately, it didn’t counter the starchy character of the chestnut quite enough to make this an enjoyable way to finish what had already been a fairly hearty meal.
The profiterole was a far better choice, combining a trio of not-too-sweet, technically perfect components – chou, vanilla ice cream, and dark chocolate sauce – with the surprise underdog. The crispy caramelized hazelnuts hit this dessert out of the park.
Fine dining came back to call once more at the end of the meal with a complimentary mignardise: two generous madeleines. I loved the barely-sweetened play on this traveling cake, which ate more like northern American cornbread than a madeleine, though my dining companion found it off-putting for the very same reason.
Either way, we were in agreement that this restaurant has stood the test of time – and still showcases what bistronomy can be at its very best.
La Régalade – 106 Rue Saint Honore, 75001