Le Bon Georges is a picturesque bistro that’s the very image of curated kitsch. Opened in 2014, it boasts a more-is-more décor that makes it feel steeped in time, its tables crammed into three dining rooms whose walls heave with antique signs advertising all manner of apéritifs. It has been steadily rising in my esteem since my first ho-hum visit in May 2022 – something I put down almost entirely, not to the restaurant itself, but to my improved ordering. After all, on my first visit, I ignored the counsel of my server, who did indeed warn me that the steak tartare, made with “hibernated” beef from celebrity butcher Alexandre Polmard, would be completely unseasoned. The move, ostensibly so that you can reap the fullest flavor of the beef itself, ultimately gives you a bland meal, which, given the prices here (the tartare, at 29 euros, is one of the cheapest things on the menu) is tough to swallow.
On my second visit in 2024, I was better able to appreciate not just the local, top-notch sourcing the restaurant is known for but also Chef Loïc Loubet’s prowess in the kitchen. We dined on a warm lentil salad seasoned with a beautiful walnut oil vinaigrette, loads of fairly lean slices of smoky bacon, and a pile of thinly shaved endive, followed by a potato-heavy oxtail parmentier and a stellar wild boar tenderloin served alongside a crépinette filled with boar offal and a study in parsnips, and we forewent the imposing chocolate mousse in favor of a play on ile flottante as delicious as it was creative.
I recently returned to this restaurant with my mother while researching spots for my guide to the best steak-frites in Paris, and I ended up just as pleased as at my second visit, if not more so.
We started things off with a fairly exceptional egg-mayo – as well it should be for 9 euros for three egg halves. The mayonnaise itself was full-flavored, and the yolks were perfectly jammy. I also really enjoyed the green salad, a blend of frisée and oak leaf lettuce.
The leek-vinaigrette (22) was more technical, perhaps, but ultimately fell a bit flat. The leeks were perfectly cooked, but the leek cream and Roquefort ended up a bit muddled by the foam-on-foam textures, and the pear, which wasn’t really yet in season (I visited in October) was crunchy and flavorless. The walnuts offered a touch of nice crunch, but I would have preferred the Roquefort be crumbled rather than reduced to a foam, which might have kept it from being so muddied in the dish.
While the Norman beef tenderloin au poivre is really meant for one person, we opted to share the steak, which made the 74-euro price tag slightly easier to swallow. Given my preference for rare meat, and my mother’s for medium, we asked for a “saignant plus” cuisson and were rewarded with this perfectly rosy interior. Honestly, there is nothing to fault with this steak, which is crusted in just enough black peppercorns, cuts like butter, and is served in a pool of the most intensely beef jus-flavored pepper cream sauce.
But is it worth nearly double the price of the one, say, at Le Bistrot Paul Bert?
I definitely prefer it here, notably the richness of the sauce, which seems less cream-enhanced and benefits from a long, slow cook. It’s better… but I’m not sure it’s 74 euros better.
The fries do, however, push the steak into must-order territory. These crispy, flavorful frites are some of the best in Paris, perhaps because (I believe) they’re triple fried in beef tallow. I’m not typically a fry girlie (or, really, much of a potato girlie), but I adored each and every mouthful.
We added another portion of salad (10 euro), which is, as I mentioned, delicious – and also kind of necessary to cut through all that fat.
For dessert, as on my previous visit, we forewent the more imposing shareable mousse in favor of a lighter plated dessert from the masterful hands of pastry chef Kevin Zeziola – and once more, we were pleasantly surprised at his novel approach to classics of French pastry.
This play on a lemon-meringue tart (14) saw a rich shortbread base topped with a super zingy lemon curd and a veritable mound of meringue. It came with a side of homemade verbena ice cream, which was light enough to almost be a sorbet. It was the ideal way to finish a fairly rich meal.
There are, however, a few hiccoughs here that remain irksome. First, the prices, which are nearly prohibitive. And second, the service. This is the second time that servers have sighed at me when I shared my allergy to buckwheat and proven themselves ill-informed and dismissive, something that, especially in a restaurant ostensibly so wedded to the origins of its products, I find strange and off-putting.
Ultimately, however, Le Bon Georges delivers on old-school Parisian vibes and ambiance with just enough modernity to add interest and flair to old-school specialties.
Le Bon Georges – 45, rue Saint-Georges, 75009