Disclosure: I was a guest of the property for this meal.
Rue des Gravillers is hopping these days: It seems like you can’t take a step along this narrow street cutting through a formerly quiet corner of the Marais before hitting a hip spot, from Datil to Mischief to Finka. Terra is one spot drawing crowds since 2021 – and since then, they’ve also added a wine bar and pizza restaurant to their résumé. I stopped by to test the original, which, as seems to be trendy in Paris these days (see: Ardent, Didon…) specializes in large cuts of meat to share.
You enter the restaurant by way of a nearly clubby entrance, which introduces you into a far more welcoming dining room set in a gorgeous atrium. It’s a real pleasure to sit in this natural light, something that was the case on my April visit and will still be possible for a few more weeks.
The wine list is varied, and many of the bottles are showcased in the restaurant itself. You’ll find selections from a wide range of producers, most of whom skew well-made natural. There’s also a particularly robust selection by the glass, with both “exceptional” offerings and more run-of-the-mill but still great options. (The former may include Christine Vernay’s Condrieu at 35 euros a glass; the latter always includes the house Champagne, a collaboration with Amis de Beauregard, at 14 euros a glass.)
The food weds French tradition with astutely chosen international touches. In April, veal tartare showcased seasonal white asparagus with taramatasalata and buckwheat (18), while salt cod accras were paired with jalapeño pickles and dandan sauce (15). Now that we’re in August (apologies for the tardiness in my review), you’ll see grilled octopus with pomegranate, watermelon, raw cream, and rayu sauce (20) or heirloom tomato soup with trout eggs and lovage (15).
My dining companion opted for the seasonal green Loire Valley asparagus (17), which were grilled until perfectly caramelized and tender and paired with a wonderfully vinegary ravigote sauce laced with anchovy and crispy sage. My only qualm with this dish was that three asparagus is a pretty paltry portion for 17 euros, but we enjoyed every pricey morsel.
My appetizer was similarly delicious: croaker sashimi (20) was coated in a rich confit egg yolk and paired with crisp radish, a snowfall of dried ricotta, and just the barest hint of kaffir lime oil. The price felt a bit more reasonable for the portion size, and I liked how thickly the fish was cut, for a lovely bit of chew.
Mains, as I mentioned, are designed to share – and I’ve got to admit that I am not a fan of this new trend. Especially when there’s just two people at the table, you need to choose your dining companion carefully, knowing that there’s another palate that has a voice in what you eat.
Luckily, I had, and we overlooked the vegetarian option – stuffed cabbage with spelt risotto, nettle sauce, and yuzu kosho (68) – to focus on the meatier options for which the restaurant is known. While the Black Angus chuck flap (95) with pepper sauce, smashed potatoes, and ras el hanout certainly tempted us, we ultimately opted for the milk-fed Basque lamb (84), which is slow-cooked for seven hours.
The lamb was served with sauce paloise, the second old-school sauce to appear on the menu – and one that, unlike ravigote, I had never even heard of before. Our server sold it to us as a mint-scented béarnaise, though it actually ate more like a mint hollandaise, which was not unwelcome, seeing as the lamb itself was so rich. The accompanying roasted golden turnips and carrots were lovely, and the portion copious enough that we had to leave a bit behind in order to save room for dessert.
There were just two choices: a rum baba with vanilla cream and kumquat (12) and chocolate mousse (11). We opted for the latter – the restaurant’s signature. We found it quite tasty, but it was richer than a true chocolate mousse really should be, seeing as it relied so heavily on cream. The sprinkle of smoked Maldon salt and drizzle of olive oil were very welcome to add a touch more balance.
The coffee (3.50) was the only true low point: Despite top-notch sourcing from Terre de Café, it tasted of precisely nothing. The two little squares of almost brownie-like cake that accompanied it were, nevertheless, phenomenal.
While I enjoyed most of what I ate at Terra – and there’s clearly care and passion on offer here – I have slight reservations when it comes to recommending it. The least expensive non-vegetarian main hovers at around 80 euros, and 40 euros is on the higher end of what I’d typically pay for a dish like this. Coupled with the nearly-as-steep appetizers and the fact that you’re beholden to your dining companion to ensure you actually get to eat what you wanted, it’s a sticker shock I can’t quite overcome. But if you’re dining with a large group and are happy to shell out slightly more than the norm for expertly cooked food, this is a great option.