Le Petit Bistro. The name speaks for itself: it is really small, really French and really matches the definition of a classy bistro.
The adorable Provence styled place is the kind of spot that makes you ask the question: “Why the hell haven’t I been here before?” One possible reason is that you are stuck in the catchment area of the seventh district (named one of the most hipsterous places on Earth recently), the other is that Le Petit is really that tiny that it can host only a few people at once.
And the latter one is also part of the magic: sitting right next to the sidewalk grabbing an amazing “2222” ale beer and eating one of the city’s most delightful pancakes in a rather abandoned street makes you feel a winner.
The Chinatowny interior is also an integral part of the story, embarrassing and charming at the same time. On 20 quadratmetres you find yourself in your grandmother’s kitchen, in a bakery and a flower shop simultaneously. The extremely “petit” toilet is also worth a check.
I have to mention the warm welcome of the staff as well. It is the kind of supernatural welcome from which you feel a short, bittersweet blackout, when you can’t decide for a second whether you see an old friend…
Two tips: make sure you carry cash and take the trouble to reserve a table before you go there.