As the sun dipped below the Parisian horizon, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets, Sarah and Thomas found themselves at a quaint night cafe on Rue des Martyrs. The air was crisp with a hint of autumn, carrying the tantalizing smells of fresh baguettes from the boulangerie next door and the rich aroma of coffee brewing. They chose a small table nestled against the cafe’s window, providing an unobstructed view of the bustling street life.
The waiter, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a knowing smile, approached with the confidence of someone who had served Parisians for decades. He greeted them with a warm “Bonsoir,” his eyes twinkling as he recommended the house wine, a crisp Sauvignon Blanc from the Loire Valley. The wine arrived first, its pale golden hue catching the last of the evening light, and as Thomas poured, the scent of flint and gooseberry filled their space, promising the perfect pairing for the evening ahead.
As they sipped their wine, the first courses arrived: a charcuterie board adorned with slices of saucisson, pâté de campagne, and a selection of cheeses ranging from the creamy Brie de Meaux to the pungent Roquefort. Each cheese was presented with its own knife, a sign of respect for the diversity of France’s dairy heritage. The waiter detailed each variety with pride, suggesting they start with the mildest and end with the strongest, a tradition he assured was the way to truly appreciate the cheeses.
The soul of a Parisian night cafe
Around them, sitting in the night cafe, the city moved in a dance as old as time. Street musicians played accordion tunes that floated through the air, mingling with the chatter of passersby. Couples strolled hand in hand, while artists set up easels to capture the ephemeral beauty of Paris at twilight. The couple observed an older man feeding pigeons near a lamp post, his act a small but cherished ritual of the city’s daily life, unnoticed by the tourists at the night cafe but integral to the soul of Paris.
Sarah and Thomas, engrossed in their surroundings, barely noticed when their main courses arrived. Thomas, opting for the traditional Coq au Vin, was greeted by the rich, comforting smell of wine-braised chicken with mushrooms and bacon, a dish that spoke of hearty French countryside cooking. Sarah chose the Duck Confit, its crisp skin giving way to tender, flavorful meat that melted in her mouth, the accompanying pommes de terre sarladaises offering a perfect crunch. Each bite was a journey through French culinary history, made intimate by the setting of their chosen night cafe.
Their meal concluded with a floating island, Île flottante, a dessert as light as the mood had become. The meringue islands floated in a sea of crème anglaise, each spoonful a blend of sweetness and memory. As they finished, the waiter, now more friend than server, wished them “Bonne soirée,” and they stepped out into the night. Paris, with its lights now fully awake, embraced them, the city’s heartbeat synchronizing with theirs, marking the beginning of many more nights to come, exploring the Parisian night cafe.
Miss the little restaurant in Surf City where we fell in love with French cuisine, simply the best never disappointed. We will be calling Chef Francis soon to plan a private dinner. We also love Barbara!!