It's on every prix fixe menu in France, but which restaurant serves up the best incarnation in the capital? I stomped and chomped my way across the city to find out.
I once ate seven bowls of ragù bolognese over the course of a single weekend. I was in Bologna, to be fair, and on a mission – to get to the bottom of spag bol (yes, I know it should be served with tagliatelle). A few years earlier, I did something similar with a Polish stew called bigos (a sort of hunter's stew). I wanted to learn about its variations, its nuances, and I wondered what you could find out about a place if you dived into one dish in particular. In the case of bigos, I gleaned that the Polish are prepared to wait a long time for things to be done.
My friend Tom suffers from a similar obsession (just last month he dropped a dozen scotch eggs on a bank holiday Monday) and so when he said he was heading to Paris to eat multiple steak frites, I wasn't exactly surprised. He wasn't just going for a laugh, mind you: Tom runs a pub in London called the Carlton Tavern, and had come to the opinion that his steak and chips could do with a bit of zhooshing up. Hence the recce in Paris. But a man travelling all that way to examine meat and potatoes cannot do so alone, so I volunteered my services.
A staple of French brasserie cuisine, steak frites came to prominence during the 19th century, when Paris was filling up with a new, urban working class who wanted, well, filling up. It's now a standard on any prix fixe menu alongside coq au vin, duck confit and beef bourguignon.
Despite its simplicity, the dish hasn't avoided philosophical attention. In his essay collection Mythologies, the heavyweight thinker Roland Barthes gave steak frites a proper considering. Just as a cup of tea is traditionally regarded as the remedy to all varieties of strife in some parts of the world (“Lost your job? I'll stick the kettle on …”), it seemed to Barthes that steak frites was imbued with special significance. For the philosopher, the juicy beef was a sign of vitality and brio, and when paired with the humble chip, the result was practically a dialectic on a plate. Simply put, steak frites is more than the sum of its parts.
Taking advantage of the Eurostar Snap service, which allows you to select the day of travel but not the exact time, I bag myself a discounted return for just £90. And so, within three hours of leaving London, we find ourselves tucking into our first steak.
