We had been sitting at our table for an hour and 39 minutes, and we were getting very hungry. To pass the time, we began tabulating all of the things that had already gone wrong over the course of our meal at Le Coyote: the forgotten carafe of water, the dish that arrived unfinished on our table. The wrong wine poured, the chair knocked into. And then the cornbread arrived… and everything was forgotten.
Le Coyote is a bustling spot in the Marais branding itself as a “queer saloon,” and from the fringe on the lamps to the swinging doors leading to the bar surrounded by all manner of mostly femme-presenting folks, it delivers. The menu features slightly American-accented specialties like pork ribs and cornbread, and the 12-euro cocktails are also a major draw, featuring mainly classics done right like whisky sours, old fashioneds, and micheladas.
As a non-imbiber, I was very pleasantly surprised to see a 6-euro tomato juice with tajin, which was absolutely delicious, as well as a good selection of mocktails. The drinks are rounded out by several natural wines by the glass (8) and even Cherry Coke.
Food-wise, there are a few bar snacks on offer, like planches (12 to 20), olives (6), or a snacking plate (25) featuring a mix of anchovies, the cheese of the day, olives, vegetables, dip, and crackers. Jusqu’ici, Le Coyote seems like a bar.
And yet.
A recent Instagram post from owner Marina Gora defined Le Coyote as a restaurant (and imploring those who reserved to keep this in mind when considering the quantity of food they ordered). And Le Coyote does indeed function this way in some respects. Not only are tables reservable, but food coming out of this tiny open kitchen is incredibly accomplished.
There’s both a permanent menu and a blackboard list of daily specials; together, they feature no shortage of creative dishes that are, in a word, exquisite.
We dithered over the seasonal creations like bruléed zucchini with flat beans, stracciatella, and poutargue (15) or asparagus with cucumber, umami broth, poached egg, trout, and shiso (15) before finally opting for the burnt eggplant dip (14), which was meant to be served with ricotta, a prune-olive condiment, roasted padron peppers, and crackers.
When it arrived, it was a thing of absolute beauty, garnished with a verdant herb-infused oil. While it was delicious as it was, I quickly noticed that the promised prune-olive condiment was missing. But seeing as there’s no server except for the owner, whose attention proved almost impossible to attract, I approached the chef directly. She gave me the forgotten topping in a small ramekin, and when we spooned it over, it elevated the dish to absolute perfection, the briny saltiness of the olives and sweetness of the prunes adding a whole new dimension to the dip.
It was accompanied, as promised, with crackers – and not just any crackers. Cheesy and studded with pumpkin seeds, these were incredible, managing even to overshadow the award-winning baguette from Tout Autour du Pain that I love so much.
When it finally arrived, the famous cornbread (17) left us gobsmacked. Two thick wedges were charred to perfection and served with a spiced butter. They had been nestled atop a base of sweet-and-spicy cherry-chili jam redolent with umami-rich roasted garlic. A few fresh flat beans and barely-cooked fava beans added some seasonal freshness, and a bit of crisp sage added some depth as well.
We would have ordered a third plate, but we had been waiting for our second so long that our appetites for savory had evaporated. Instead, we ordered dessert, digging happily into a Basque cheesecake (10) with the density of a New York-style, a base of speculoos, and a barely-there sweetness. It was garnished generously with elderflower-cherry compote and was absolutely divine.
I cannot fault any of the food we tried, and yet I have a hard time recommending Le Coyote as a restaurant. That the food is exceptional is clear, and the vibe is very fun. Still, the service leaves much to be desired, and the owner seems to spend most of her time swanning, gravitating towards regulars and ignoring everyone else.
For me, this is a question, not of eschewing Le Coyote but merely rebranding it. Consider it a restaurant, and you’ll be disappointed by the lack of attentiveness. But consider it a bar with truly excellent food, and you’ll be blown away.
Le Coyote – 86, rue des Archives, 75003 Paris