When I first moved to Paris, I discovered a wealth of new-to-me options in the world of international food. While thanks to my parents (and my New York upbringing), I was no stranger to Japanese, Chinese, Indian, and Thai food, Paris gave me the gift of familiarity with Vietnamese, Lebanese, and Tunisian cuisines, and local specialists gave me a love and appreciation for them. More recently, I’ve been enthusiastically venturing into West African restaurants to discover an entire range of flavors and cooking techniques that were little-known to me… until now.
On a quiet side street in Montmartre, Loyo showcases the cuisine of Côte d’Ivoire and Réunion in a dining room that somewhat oddly feels a bit like a club (in the discothèque sense…), but don’t let that deter you. I recently visited with two foodie friends, one of whom (the lovely Tanisha Townsend) quipped that the conviviality between the proprietors and the mostly-regular diners made it felt like walking into someone’s living room. And it’s true. The service here is equal parts friendly and leisurely, but somehow, I didn’t mind the more languorous pace when the flavors are this big and bold.
I started with a bissap-ginger juice (8), which is made in-house (as, by the way, are all of their rhums arrangés, a popular choice among imbibers). This mocktail was refreshing and just sweet enough, which runs counter to some of the ginger juices I’ve had at other West African restaurants, which tend to have an intense and even overbearing sweetness.
We started things off by sharing two appetizers. Dough-forward accras were fresh and crispy on the outside with an ethereal fluffiness within. The fish was present but subtle, bowing instead to a pleasantly prominent note of fresh chili sure to bring tears to the eyes of those with a more French palate for heat. They were paired with a chili sauce that lent more sweetness than spice, and the combination was extremely tasty and very moreish, especially, the ladies told me, with a beer.
We also shared an order of the pickled vegetable achards (8), which were seasoned generously with turmeric and had a slight sweetness to them as well. We were surprised at the unanimity with which we proclaimed them our favorite (by a hair!) of the two starters.
Other appetizers on offer include samossas (6.50) and shrimp nems (6.50). For 14 euro, you can get an assortment plate with a bit of everything, and if you’re with a group, this seems like it would definitely be the move, given how delicious our choices were.
When it comes to mains, specialties like ten-spice goat massalé (23) or smoked sausage rougail (20) coexist with the house specialty: “braised” chicken or fish. My scare quotes stem from the ambiguity of the word braisé in this context: Here, it’s actually a reference to braises, aka charcoal embers. This style of cooking sees chicken or fish, not braised, but char-grilled over an open flame.
I chose the dish the menu boasted as the house specialty: poulet braisé (20) smothered in the house sauce. The two drumsticks and a thigh on the plate were extremely flavorful, in part thanks to the cooking method but also in part thanks to a reliance on Maggi seasoning. The ensemble was smothered in a copious salad of tomato, cucumber, and onion slightly marinated in a mayo-based dressing, rendering it slightly tender but still crisp and fresh.
The poisson braisé (30), however, proved even tastier. The whole fish boasted a hearty coal-grilled flavor and a far fresher topping that was unapologetically heavy on the onions.
Sides ranged from perfectly cooked rice – which my other dining companion, Allison Zinder, quipped was “what rice should taste like,” – to sticky fried aloccos (plantains) or soupy, garlicky red beans. And the house hot sauce more than delivered on the promise of heat.
All in all, this was a great place to discover a cuisine I’m not quite so familiar with in a setting that felt relaxed and welcoming but still a bit more buttoned up than some of the takeaways I’ve also been frequenting to sample these foods. On a return trip, I’d be curious to try the goat, but I must admit that fish is the dish that’s still calling my name.
Loyo – 18, rue Bachelet, 75018