The wine bar and small plate model hit its fever pitch in Paris a few years ago; these days, it has settled slightly, with bars falling into two major camps.
The first category includes those for whom food is unapologetically secondary to the wine. These wine bars tend to focus on the quilles, offering a short list of accompaniments that are peu transformé (barely transformed): think expertly sourced charcuterie, seasonal radishes with a dollop of salted butter to drag them through, or perhaps an egg-mayo. These plates are typically reasonably priced, and those who visit these spaces usually know that they’re going to have to venture elsewhere for dinner. Great members of this category include Septime’s wine bar, Buvette in the 9th, and Barav‘ in the Marais.
The other approach champions creativity, with culinary innovation or even audacity supporting the wine list. You could easily make a meal of the plates at Paloma, Le Grand Bain, Trouble, L’Orillon, or Soces. Recoin, for me, ends up with a foot in this category and another foot in the realm of actual restaurant – and it works.
The wine bar side of things dominates the vibes here, complete with a well-deserved, cooler-than-you ambiance. What I love, however, is that it runs like a restaurant, complete with reservations, servers who know what they’re doing, and tables big enough to hold cutlery, bread, and the delicious, creative plates.
The menu here is ever-changing in a way that I can get on board with: Alongside seasonal variation, there are a few regularly recurring recipes or themes. Appetizers typically number six, mains and desserts three each. Among the starters, a few “things on a plate” like cecina (12) or oysters (11 for three) are joined, typically, by some iteration of a toast (shrimp, lobster, lamb tartare…), a savory tart (Comté-and-truffle, crab-and-trout-roe), and a few fish-driven dishes, of which one is likely to be a crudo or a tartare. Mains usually include one meat, one fish, and one pasta. But within this format, seasonality reigns.
On the recommendation of my friend, who’s a regular, we opted for the shrimp toast (17) with marsh shrimp sandwiched between slices of buttery pain de mie. The sandwich sat in a puddle of super-reduced stock and was draped with thin slices of lardo. The entire thing was a study in richness with little reprieve, save the diminutive portion size. Make no mistake: This is not a dig. The two tiny halves were just the right amount of this flavorful, fatty delight.
The Dieppe scallops (17) were far more delicate in flavor, balancing a crisp exterior and tender, milky interior. They were served in a dashi broth alongside plump shiitake mushrooms seasoned liberally with sesame seeds and topped with passion fruit and kumquat, for a dish that ultimately was the ideal autumn tableau. My only complaint is that I wish they’d come to the table first, seeing as their delicacy was a bit overshadowed by the toast.
The mains included pigeon (33) and pollack (30), but we both gravitated towards the house-made pasta. On the night of our visit, cavatelli cacio e pepe (28) was revisited with a crispy pangrattato topping, a generous shower of chives, a few plump chanterelles, and an egg yolk designed to be tossed through the cheesy pasta. The noodles themselves were al dente in the way that pasta often is in Italy, which is to say, undercooked for my personal preference, but the flavors were positively perfect.
Dessert-wise, from among Saint-Nectaire (9) and Mont Blanc (12), we chose the more creative lemon-bergamot tart (12). The caramelized, buttery base held alternating blobs of bright curd with a barely-there sweetness and fire-kissed meringue, each tangoing with extremity when it comes to sweetness and bitter acidity. When combined for the perfect forkful, it was sheer bliss.
All this to say, Recoin is merely masquerading as a wine bar. In reality, it’s a restaurant, the kind of place you could very easily cross Paris for and one that locals of the 11th are lucky to call a neighborhood joint.
Recoin – 60 Rue Saint-Sabin, 75011