In Search of the Quintessential Paris Brasserie

Brasserie Lipp — a favorite of Ernest Hemingway — still serves cold beer and French fare to locals and tourists alike. (Photo: Patrick Escudero/Hemis/Corbis)

“It was a quick walk to Lipp’s…the beer was very cold and wonderful to drink. The pommes de l‘huile were firm and marinated and the olive oil delicious. I ground black pepper over the potatoes and moistened the bread in the olive oil.” So wrote Ernest Hemingway of Paris’ Brasserie Lipp in A Moveable Feast, a memoir of his time in Paris in the 1920s.

The book is filled with references to the brasseries and cafes Hemingway frequented and, as much as anyone, made iconic for generations of Americans yearning for a little taste of Parisian bohemia. Recently, I made my way around the classic spots on the Left Bank — and a few farther afield — in search of the quintessential Parisian brasserie.

Most of these places Hemingway knew and loved; as often as not, he sat in the lovely garden of the Closerie des Lilas to write, or stopped in at La Rotonde and Le Select, where his friends hung out.

Paul Fort, known as the “prince of the poets” (right), in the terrace of Closerie des Lilas, in 1920. (Photo: Branger/Roger Viollet/Getty Images)

The last time I was in Paris I lunched on herring with boiled potatoes at Lipp as a sort of homage to the young (and often hungry) Hemingway. By the 1950s, Lipp was a hang-out for Chagall, Camus, Jean Genet, Simone Signoret, and Yves Montand.

In the 1920s, Gertrude Stein called Hemingway and his pals, including F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Lost Generation.” The myth and the reality lasted for probably half a century more, though even now I know people who go to Paris hoping for a whiff of it.

And why not? These writers and artists — who included Ford Maddox Ford, Ezra Pound, John Dos Passos, and Isadora Duncan — had, one way or the other, survived the horrors of World War 1. They were young, glamorous, talented, always drunk, always in love, ready for adventures and danger. Hemingway chronicled the life in The Sun Also Rises, of course. In recent years, no one has evoked it better with wit, affection, and a bit of sweet satirical bite than Woody Allen in his delicious Midnight in Paris.

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Simone de Beauvoir, seen writing at Les Deux Magots in 1944. (Photo: Robert Doisneau/Gamma-Rapho/Getty Images)

As a student, decades back, I went to Paris invested in the myth myself. Once, I spotted Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir at Les Deux Magots across from Lipp. Sartre, instead of talking philosophy, was eating a huge ice cream sundae. More often, friends and I walked up to La Coupole to eat jambon beurre, the sandwich (crusty bread, plenty of butter, thin slice of pink ham) that is practically my favorite French lunch. For sure La Coupole is mostly a tourist spot now, and the food isn’t great. But have a drink on the terrace or in the Bar Americain and lose yourself in this Art Deco Temple, with its stunning marble pillars.

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La Rotonde still buzzes with activity and the spirit of old Paris. (Photo: David Harmantas/Flickr)

For better food, and 1911 décor, try La Rotonde across from La Coupole. It’s more local, feels winningly shabby and serves very good steak and escargots.

Sure there are brasseries all over Paris, some old, some new, but the essence is always good, hearty food and drink — and good times. You go to a brasserie to have fun, see your friends, write a novel. (On napkins, please; writing on that Mac does not for great nostalgia make.)

The Choucroute Royale at the Bofinger — a traditional Alsatian dish of sausage, sauerkraut, and other cuts of pork. (Photo: TripAdvisor)

Bofinger took off in the 1870s. After the Franco-Prussian War, when Germans occupied the province of Alsace, many of its citizens fled to Paris bringing with them their talent for making beer. Brasserie is the French word for brewery. With the beer, the Alsatians brought dishes like Choucroute Garni, the heavy and tasty piles of sauerkraut, sausages and other yummy pig parts. Brasserie food should be simple and good — roast chicken, steak frites, onion soup, escargots in garlic butter you mop up with crusty bread.

Bofinger, still thriving after 150 years, has a brasserie atmosphere, absolutely gorgeous Art Noveau décor. The oysters, another brasserie staple, are good, and so is the red wine.

Brasserie Julien is full of Art Nouveau charm – from the mosaic floors to the intricately painted walls and the stained glass skylights. (Photo: TripAdvisor)

Another beauty is the Art Nouveau Julien, with its painted walls and mahogany bar. Some places — like Brasserie Flo — have vintage brasserie looks, but with a modern menu. But most gorgeous of all the brasseries is Le Dome Café.

Once a place where “les Domiers,” the literati gathered to argue and drink, it opened in 1898. Not just writers went, but painters, poets, art dealers, photographers, among them Picasso and Gauguin, Henry Miller and Vladimir Lenin. It was also known as the gathering place for the American literary gang in the 1920s and after. For a buck you could get a plate of mashed potatoes and a sausage. No more. The Dome, as it’s called, is now a ravishingly pretty period restaurant and also very expensive.

On a Friday evening, as the crowd assembled, it seemed to consist of well-heeled Parisian business men and well-dressed ladies. The famous Dover sole was pretty good. The oysters were fine. The service, unusually for Paris, was terrific — courteous, attentive, un-snotty.

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The bouillabaisse at Terminus Nord is the perfect way to fill your stomach before leaving Paris by train. (Photo: TripAdvisor)

Whenever I leave Paris by train, usually on the Eurostar for London, I stop in at the Terminus Nord, opposite the Gare du Nord, where you get the train. I can warm up on a bouillabaisse or, in a hurry settle for some crepes suzettes or profiteroles, the great desert standbys. under the high ceilings and Art Deco chandeliers. It’s not a bad place to say au revoir to Paris. See you soon. À bientôt.

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