Chez Michel

Thierry Breton, of Chez Michel, wants people to taste the food of Bretagne (Brittany). Yes, he's from Bretagne and his name is Breton. His menu at Chez Michel is rustic and doggedly regional. With haute cuisine, much of the regional subtleties in France had been lost to a sort of codified general French cuisine. However, though France may not be as geographically diverse as the US, there are very distinct differences between regions. France has mountains, valleys, vineyards, ocean fronts, sea fronts, Germanic ancestry, and several colonies to draw from. The food in each region has its own strong identity, as does the culture in general.

If I have regional affiliations, they are to Bretagne and the Rhone-Alpes regions, where my grandparents are from. I have a particular affinity for Brittany as it is where I spent most of my childhood summers, and where my grandma draws inspiration for much of her cooking. Since she is one of my greatest inspirations in cooking (she taught me how to properly season food, for one), it's no wonder I feel drawn to the food of Brittany. It's also probably why I've never been able to stand any crepes made in this country.

Thierry Breton opened Chez Michel not long after Yves Camdeborde opened La Regalade, no doubt inspired by his friend's success. They are both products of top Parisian kitchens, including the legendary Tour d'Argent. However, while Camdeborde retained a bit cosmopolitanism in his cuisine de terroir, Breton went for an all-terroir approach. Stepping into Chez Michel, you feel transported to a countryside restaurant room. Not an ounce of urban touches. Same goes for his menu.

Choosing Chez Michel as one of my dining destinations was done several years ago, and wasn't really my doing. I was reading Jeffrey Steingarten's article on these 'gastro-bistros' in The Man Who Ate Everything (one of my favorite food writing collections) and saw Breton's name mentioned. A few days later, I was speaking with my mom, who had just returned from Paris, and she mentioned that she had eaten at a great restaurant fitting the description of Chez Michel. I asked her if that was it, and she said yes, informing me that Breton was actually the cousin of a good family friend. One thing led to another, and I almost went to work for him, though I eventually chose California. Still, small world.

Breton wasn't there on the night in question (even chefs take vacations at normal times in France), but we still ate damn well. Chez Michel is in the 10th arrondissement, near a strip I would have avoided as a kid, but which has found popularity lately with its cheap rents and the canal St-Martin. As I mentioned before, everything about the restaurant is rustic, and the tables are packed in to every tight and inaccessible corner of the room, making service quite hilarious.

They start you off with a plate of bigorneaux, or periwinkles in English. My great aunt used to eat these by ton in my childhood summers, but I've never really taken a liking to them. Still, better than crackers. Comes with an excellent mayonnaise.

Then comes the house-made bread and Breton butter. I probably would have been content eating just that. The butter had that deep yellow and crumbly quality that many celtic butters have (the Bretons are celts, after all).

The menu at Chez Michel is composed of two parts. There is a roughly permanent printed menu, with three courses for 30 euros, highlighting the very traditional Breton dishes that form the core of Breton's arsenal. Then, the table is also presented with an ardoise displaying the day's specials, which are quite numerous, and which all have a surcharge. For our visit, the blackboard menu was very game-heavy, but we mostly stuck to the classics.

We ordered a pre-appetizer of foie gras and shaved truffles on a warm tartine with a sprinkling of fleur de sel. It was truffle season after all, and ended up being comped. Though it's hard to credit the kitchen for this, it was about as decadent and perfect as food gets. The slight heat from the bread softened the foie and released the scent of the truffle while maintaining its raw texture. The truffle was of a very high quality, maybe one of the best I've ever tasted raw.

Like at Le Comptoir, most of the appetizers require very little line work in the kitchen. There are the obligatory soups, but instead of charcuterie, Breton offers different raw-ish fish preparations, more in line with his coastal home region. These come to the table in little canning jars, with a simple green salad. My sardines, which had been quickly preserved with tomato 'tartare', salt and lemon, were a revelation. I've never tasted sardines this good. Our family friend Carole (also our gracious host) had a salmon that was also extremely fresh, but less interesting. My brother, the soup fiend, had a very typical soupe de poisson, which was also excellent. While the food at Chez Michel may be rustic, you can see Thierry Breton's skills in the flawless executions. I also loved that many of the dishes are served in a kind of 'family style' way, emphasizing the intended rusticity: for example, my brother's soup was served from a large pitcher which was left on the table to refill his bowl at will.


My main course was where the kitchen really showed its skills. I had a beautiful piece of cod, roasted and served on top of a ragout of chard legs, sauteed chard leaves and carrots. The skin was crispy yet tender. The dish was put over the top by the accompanying broth: veal feet had been braised in shellfish stock, giving the broth a meaty flavor and a consistency and mouthfeel almost like liquid gelatin. This made every piece of fish have a luscious texture. Carole had a sort of Breton-style bouillabaisse, whose Breton name escapes me. Though it looked like a bouillabaisse, the flavors were entirely different. The seafood was excellent, including four exquisite razor clams placed on top. I also loved the cast iron pot it was served in. The only low note of the night was my brother's dish, a daily special that was reminiscent of blanquette de veau. The veal chunks were dry and sparse, and the broth was underseasoned and watery.



Just as with everything else, desserts are homey and comforting classics. Chez Michel is supposed to have one of the best renditions of the Paris-Brest, that old French standard of choux with whipped cream of varying flavors. However, we went for different offerings that night. I had a kouign ammann, a layered pastry with tons of caramel and butter that I loved as a kid. It's one of the richest desserts out there, and Breton's is sublime, served warm on a wooden cutting board. Carole had the riz au lait, a traditional rice pudding which was again served family style in a large bowl to eat at will. Again, this was delicious and comforting. My brother, never really much of a sweet tooth, had the cheese platter, which was also all-you-can-eat. Like a home-cooked meal.



I must also mention the wine, which was robust and perfect for a cold winter night. The bourgueil from Pierre Breton (no relation) is one of those small-production organic wines championed by both Thierry Breton and Yves Camdeborde.



Looking around the other tables and listening in, we realized that a good portion of the guests at Chez Michel that night were foreigners. Since this isn't a neighborhood you'd go to as a tourist, it is clear that Thierry Breton's food has earned a worldwide reputation. I suspect that some of the out-of-towners might have been a little disappointed at the utter lack of daintiness in the food (at least the Americans behind us were). This is robust, rustic, country food, and a cuisine that may be lost if not the work of people like Thierry Breton. It also happens to be pretty damn delicious, and it helps to keep alive one of the roots of haute cuisine, which has to be France's greatest gift to the world.

If you're traveling to Paris and are looking for something a bit different, book a table at Chez Michel.

Chez Michel
10, rue de Belzunce
75010 Paris