A Culinary Odyssey in Paris: From Buttery Delights to Wagyu Wonders
Armed with an insatiable appetite, a forgiving waistband, and a pack of indigestion tablets, I plunged headfirst into a two-day, two-night culinary expedition in Paris. While the city is globally renowned as a premier food capital, celebrated for its iconic bakeries, pâtisseries, and brasseries, I was determined to uncover the lesser-known treasures that lie beyond the obvious tourist trails.
Saturday: Arrival and Initial Indulgences
6am: An early Eurostar departure necessitated a dawn awakening, a time when eating feels almost premature. However, the Premier Lounge offered pastries, fruit, tea, and coffee, tempting early risers. I resisted, having heard glowing reviews of the onboard breakfast, and my patience was richly rewarded. After starting with yoghurt and a croissant, a full cooked breakfast arrived: herby sausage, beans, mushrooms, a bread roll, and Estate Dairy butter. Take note of that butter – in France, it is never merely butter; it is an experience unto itself.
10.30am: Arriving in Paris under rainy skies lacked romance, but all grievances dissolved upon entering the Shangri-La Paris. This serene and cocooning hotel serves as a tranquil sanctuary mere steps from the bustling Eiffel Tower. Any residual travel weariness vanished in my superior room, where a breathtaking view, freshly baked madeleines, a miniature chocolate Eiffel Tower, and a bowl of clementines awaited. Still satiated from breakfast, I mentally reserved the madeleines for later, knowing they deserved undivided attention.
1.30pm: A brief stroll led to Le Stella, a cherished local brasserie in the 16th arrondissement. The vibrant upstairs dining room was clearly a haunt for Parisians: families enjoying leisurely lunches, adult children reconnecting with parents, and one table adorned with fascinators fresh from the races. We commenced with snails bathed in vivid green garlic butter and oysters, naturally accompanied by bread and thick slabs of Beurre d’Isigny. For mains, delicate St Jacques scallops arrived in a light broth with impeccably cooked buttery rice. Dessert was beyond capacity, but the promise of hotel-madeleines provided sweet anticipation.
4.40pm: The madeleines did not disappoint: light, soft, and profoundly buttery, finished with a sweet glaze and a touch of edible gold leaf. Decadent, yet entirely justified.
6pm: Chinese cuisine might seem an unconventional choice in Paris, but it emerged as a weekend highlight. Chef Tony Xu, who joined the Shangri-La in 2011, brings technical mastery and a clear culinary vision. Before dinner, we enjoyed a dumpling-making class. Watching the chef deftly craft perfectly pleated dumplings was both inspiring and humbling, as my own attempts felt clumsy and uncoordinated.
Dinner featured a seven-course tasting menu at Shang Palace, served family-style on a central rotating turntable. It began unforgettably with Mongolian ice salad – crisp, chilled leaves dressed in a creamy, nutty sesame sauce that lingers in memory. Chef Xu, hailing from Sichuan, intentionally narrates a story through food, balancing richness and freshness so each course feels distinct and never overwhelming.
Standouts included crispy minced duck served with lettuce leaves, melt-in-the-mouth wagyu beef fillet with king oyster mushrooms, and savoury, buttery fried rice. A tea pairing proved inspired: delicate floral teas complemented lighter courses, while deeper, earthier brews accompanied richer dishes. The meal concluded brightly with a fresh mango and coconut pudding – light, fragrant, and deeply satisfying.
Sunday: Farm Visits and Final Feasts
9am: After a blissfully cosy night’s sleep, breakfast unfolded in La Bauhinia. Soft florals and a calm, airy atmosphere set a leisurely tone. I opted for avocado on toast with two perfectly poached eggs, followed – because this is Paris – by small sugary pastries: crisp choux bites studded with sugar crystals, ideal with strong coffee.
1.30pm: Wagyu beef requires little explanation, and after the previous night’s fillet, a visit to its source felt inevitable. We journeyed to Normandy to tour the wagyu farm supplying many of Paris’s top restaurants.
Set in tranquil countryside, the farm spans acres where younger cows play in hay and older ones graze contentedly. Learning about the meticulous care, attention, and passion behind the rearing process was as impressive as witnessing it firsthand.
Lunch was arranged in a secluded garden: a long table adorned with flowers, mismatched vintage crockery, and shared bottles of wine. We began with beef charcuterie crafted from farm offcuts, followed by grilled wagyu sirloin and ribeye, new potatoes cooked in beef fat, grilled aubergine, courgette, and peppers – and, of course, bread and butter.
The beef was astonishingly tender, rich yet delicate, almost indecently good. A heart-shaped Neufchâtel cheese followed, traditionally gifted as a token of love to soldiers. Conversation inevitably returned to butter, with Beurre Bordier declared the undisputed champion. Every prior culinary experience suddenly felt like a mere warm-up act.
8.30pm: Our final dinner was at La Bauhinia, where Executive Chef Simon Havage artfully blends French classics with Asian-inspired flair.
We commenced with sea bream ceviche with mango, coriander, and black lime, and crispy rice tuna with lime – fresh, vibrant, and dangerously moreish. For mains, I selected pike-perch fillet, served with coconut cream, curry, and seasonal vegetables. Each bite offered delightful variation, making it a genuine pleasure. Dessert was Chef Maxence Barbot’s famous profiterole, finished with a deeply satisfying crack of caramel.
11pm: After such extensive dining, lingering felt essential. Le Bar Botaniste, with ornate chandeliers and plush sofas inspired by Napoleon’s tents, provided the perfect ambiance. Sipping a Beshkan – rose pisco with pistachio orgeat – I reflected on how abundantly Paris had delivered on its culinary promises.
Monday: The Journey Home
9am: The weekend was undeniably a culinary whirlwind, and I chose not to tally my butter consumption. Just when I believed my eating concluded, I was presented with Jeremy Chan of Ikoyi’s bold, vibrant new breakfast menu on the Eurostar back to London. Well – it would have been impolite to decline.
