This week, I met David, our longtime foreign correspondent, for lunch at the legendary Le Procope restaurant in Paris. It was a chance for us to catch up in person, as David travels frequently and too many of our conversations are conducted by email rather than face to face.
The last time I patronized the establishment, a group of friends were visiting from the states. We reserved a private room for 12 and enjoyed an afternoon of delightful food, drink, and conviviality. The food and service were excellent, and I was hoping time had not changed anything. I should not have been concerned.
Gentlemen that we are, David and I were content to dine in the spacious upstairs salon with mere mortals, who sat at other tables, while the portraits of historical legends looked down upon us from Le Procope’s walls. It was simultaneously a very democratic and humbling experience. (Wink, nod.)
Opened in 1686, the landmark restaurant has fed and refreshed the great and the good, and not just those of France. Of course, rivals Voltaire and Rousseau dined here, at different tables I’m sure, and more likely at different times). Thomas Jefferson stopped in for nourishment and consolation during his frequent diplomatic visits to Paris. Napoleon left the owners one of his famous bicorn hats, allegedly as collateral for an unpaid dinner tab, which now sits under glass at the top of the stairs. It’s still there, so, you know, apparently, he didn’t get back around to actually coming back and paying his bill.
Note: the thing most patrons don’t do, that I have done, is to walk around the restaurant after enjoying a meal (sit inside, not on the terrace in the alley) and investigate. Take in the portraits, the historical artifacts, and the ambiance. The walls literally drip with history. If you wish, you can book a reservation for 1:30 or 2pm. (They serve continuously.) Most of the lunch crowd will have gone, and perhaps, if you ask nicely, one of the staff might walk you through for a brief, impromptu tour. (No guarantees. And don’t ask during the busy lunch or dinner hours.)
The day we dined, the crowd was a mix of locals and tourists who were, I’m pleased to say, generally dressed appropriately. David and I held up the side in blue blazers, dress shirts, and slacks. Not a baseball cap nor pair of cargo shorts was seen anywhere.
While Le Procope does not have an enforced ‘dress code’ that I’m aware of, there is an unspoken but very real expectation of appropriate dress and behavior when you enter. The male staff are dressed in suits and ties. The female staff in smart pantsuits or business suits. It’s that no-nonsense French elegance combined with their professional, brisk demeanor that communicates a sense of decorum. Be punctual. Be dressed. Behave. they seem to say.
That’s not to say it’s stuffy or pretentious. The day David and I were there, a table near us was celebrating a birthday. Several staff members arrived with a cake and candle and sang Bon Anniversaire, extolling the other patrons to join in. Everyone did, concluding with a joyful round of applause that filled the salon with laughter.
What’s more, Le Procope, is not just sliding by on its reputation. The house wine was excellent. My onion soup was the best I’ve had in Paris. And my salad was tasty and fresh. David’s starter of eggs and main of gnocchi seemed to hit the spot. We declined a dessert and opted for espressos, each of which came with a delicious madeleine cookie. The service was top shelf from start to finish.
The bill, hovering at about 50 euros per person, was not unreasonable. I’ve paid much more and enjoyed much less here.
I’ll be back soon.
Le Procope. https://www.procope.com/en/
Reservations strongly recommended.
- BGT