Here and There #3

A preview of our Paris issue! Plus food writer Rebekah Peppler’s favorites for petit déjeuner & apéro hour, sandals that channel St. Tropez, and a French restaurant decoder

Greetings from Rome, where I’m almost done writing a new version of our Rome Black Book, which comes out in our newsletter on Saturday. It’s a beast, but I’m really proud of it—I think it will be so helpful to any of you visiting Rome.

(Just a quick reminder, some of you have said you’re still confused about the difference between our Substack and our website. We publish a newsletter every Saturday with new travel content that lives on our Yolo Journal site. Here on Substack, we write different kinds of stories—more personal, answering your questions, introducing you to other people we love on Substack…. Basically, it’s the community part of our Yolo universe. You can read more about what our site is here, and what Club Yolo is here.)

But today we’re talking Paris—since our summer issue of Yolo Journal is devoted to it. After hearing so many of you say you wanted a print version of our Giant Paris Black Book, we made one, and we’re so excited about it!

(Left: Clara Hranek; Right: Todd Ritondaro)

One of our contributors to the issue was Rebekah Peppler, a Paris-based food and travel author who writes the excellent Substack, Shortlisted. I’ve known about Rebekah for years through her beautiful cookbooks on French food traditions and the art of the apéritif (which she wrote a short essay about for our issue). But we hadn’t met in person until last year in Paris, over an excellent coffee at Dreamin’ Man. She has such great taste and insights on travel, and especially on French food culture, so I thought it would be great to introduce her to you, because she is someone you should know. We’re also sharing an essay by Alec Lobrano, one of my favorite travel writers, who lives between Paris and Uzès, in which he demystifies the differences between bistros, brasseries, and bouillons because, who knew?!

Copies of our print issue are available to order from our site and I think it’s a keeper, so get it while you can (or from a stockist near you). (Also, proud mom alert—Clara shot the cover!)

Lastly, in summer mode, I thought I’d republish our post on my favorite sandals from St. Tropez–I wore them all last year, and they are my daily so far this year.

YOU SHOULD MEET… Rebekah Peppler

(Photographs by Joann Pai)

Thank you for being such a huge help to us on our original Paris Black Book as well as our print issue. How and when did you come to live in Paris, anyway?

It’s such a beautiful issue and I’m honored to be a part of it! The move to Paris is a book-length story, but the short short version is that I had been living and working in New York City as a food stylist and wanted to be writing more. There was a part of me that knew I needed to be somewhere else to make that particular dream happen, so just before I hit the 10-year mark with NYC, I decided to start splitting time between the city and...somewhere else. Paris became that somewhere else through a mix of kismet, hard work, some tears and sheer naïveté. I started splitting my time in 2015 and full-time (on an artist visa) since 2018.

You previously trained as a food stylist, pastry chef and recipe developer. Did those skills translate pretty easily when you arrived? Were you able to find work, or was your plan all along to write and be a free spirit?

I had less of a plan than it seems in hindsight, but the principal reason I moved to Paris was to write. I studied journalism at University in Wisconsin, then moved to New York City to study French pastry at the French Culinary Institute. I worked at Dean & Deluca during school (I worked during the day and went to school at night) and when I graduated, I started working as a researcher for a food television show and then as a food stylist and recipe developer. While I hadn’t planned it at the time, all those different skills absolutely translate directly into the books I write — as well as develop the recipes for, style, and art direct… which is maybe another way of saying I have a hard time relinquishing control? The one big thing I don’t do for the books is the photography: the photographer for all three books is the incredibly talented Joann Pai, who somehow keeps saying yes to me when I come calling every few years with the next one.

It always amazes me when you have the distance to look back at those transitional stepping stones in life (which at times in the moment feel less step and more list) and see them come together in such a clear and deeply fulfilling way. I wouldn’t be able to do the work I do in the way I do it if I hadn’t put one foot in front of the other — something I’m still trying to continue to remind myself when the present moment feels a bit shaky.

Given your deep knowledge of (and no doubt strong opinions about) baking and dessert, what are your favorite croissant, baguette, sourdough loaf and pastry in Paris?

I’m so happy you asked about pastries and bread here rather than dessert, specifically. While I went to pastry school, I’m honestly not usually a dessert person in the traditional sense (I’d much rather eat cake for breakfast or as an afternoon treat, rather than after a big meal.) But viennoiseries and breads are very much my thing. My favorite croissant is from Atelier P1 (in the 18ème) and my favorite pain au chocolat is from Panifacture (in the 11ème). I find the best baguette in Paris is the one closest to home, so for me that’s Pain Pain in Montmartre. Or Mamiche in the 9ème. I do sometimes go out of my way to Utopie or Boulangerie Terroirs d'Avenir as well. For sourdough loaf, Ten Belles or Poîlane. I will also make a point to stop at Chambelland if I have a gluten-free guest in town. You didn’t ask about chocolate, but to close the loop, Plaq, À La Mère de Famille, Le Chocolat Alain Ducasse or this insane caramelized white chocolate bar from Sébastien Gaudard that I crave regularly.

You’ve made writing about French food and culture the focus of your work. Did you have any role models who led you (consciously or unconsciously) down this path? And what do you feel you bring to your subject as an outsider (now insider-outsider)?

I definitely did focus on writing about French food and culture for my book work to date! I know that will continue to evolve in the coming years, but living in France has certainly not come with any lack of inspiration. Because I’m also a journalist, I approach my books from that lens. I find curiosity backed by on-the-ground research is both an important part of my creative process and also a necessary way in the culture around a table that is not mine.

As far as role models, there’s a long history of Americans in France writing about French food and culture — I’m certainly not the first or last! I owe a big debt to the ever-lovely Dorie Greenspan, who met me for a drink in NYC when I was debating moving to a city where I didn’t know anyone or speak the language or really have any reason to be. She looked across the table and pretty much said, “Well, why wouldn’t you?” She also introduced me to my favorite butter (Beillevaire), so I’m in her debt for all sorts of reasons.

Your first book, Apéritif, was about the culture around the evening drink/snack. You touched on this in your essay in our print issue, but how is French apéro different from the Italian version, and how did you come to understand its rhythms and meanings in your adopted city? (And can you reshare your favorite spots for enjoying a glass?)

Look, anytime you’re enjoying a drink and snack with someone you love is a magical moment. Everywhere does it a bit differently and, in France, the culture surrounding apéritif is an especially accessible way in to understanding a bit of life in France — and participating in for the length of your apéro. When I first moved to Paris, meeting people for l'heure de l'apéro was a way to ease into burgeoning friendships and also begin to understand the rhythms and rituals that are so deeply rooted here. Favorite spots — other than at my or a friend’s home which are where I most often spend the length of an apéro — center pretty singularly around natural wine bars: Folderol, Cave Canaille, La Buvette, Aux Deux Amis, Delicatessen Place, Chambre Noire, Poney Club or bringing a bottle and a bag of chips to the Canal Saint-Martin or the Seine or one of the many public parks across the city.

Your next book, À Table, looked at the French way of gathering around a table, and included 125 recipes. How would you say the meaning of “French cooking” has evolved in the last few years, and who are you watching/who inspires you most in this space?

I think people can have this idea of “French cooking” as fussy and cream-heavy or time / technique-intensive which it can be, sure, but À Table — and all my work, really — is meant to speak to the modern French table. The recipes are (mostly) simple and seasonal. Some are deeply rooted in history, others are modern iterations of classics. They draw on the many influences that French food draws on, including from Mediterranean and African countries. Some are inspired by something a vendor at the market suggested I do with the produce I was buying, or a dish I had the joy of eating out in Paris, or the recipe of a friend’s mom or auntie.

There are so many inspiring writers and cooks, especially right now. The journalist Farah Keram just came out with Cuisines d’Afrique du Nord, a personal narrative which explores the culinary traditions passed down and preserved by the women in her family between Algeria, Tunisia and the diasporas in France. Anything Lauren Collins writes — about food and culture in France or otherwise — is always an excellent, inspiring read (and her Substack is an absolute gem). Sutanya Dacres is an author and cook who offers popups and Supper Clubs in Paris and is doing just really amazing things around the table. Novelist and cookbook writer Sanaë Lemoine's The Margot Affair incorporates French food in the most beautiful way, and I find myself coming back to it again and again.

We already interviewed you about your third and most recent book, Le Sud, focusing on recipes from the Provence-Alpes-Côte-d’Azur, which everyone can read here. Have you continued to go back often, and have you made any new/favorite discoveries in the South of France since then?

I was actually in le sud last week hosting a trip for Capital One and PRIOR. We were in and around Nice for five days, and then my partner Laila and I went down the coast to Les Roches Rouges in Saint- Raphaël for a few nights before returning home to Paris. I always find something new amongst my favorites in the south, and this trip to Nice included coffee and ice cream at Frisson, which opened last year, fried squash blossoms and linguine au pistou at Chez Davia (an established favorite of mine and many others), and the pleasure of being in Nice on a Monday, which is when the daily flower and food market on Cours Saleya becomes a brocante (we picked up a vintage Christofle ice bucket and I’m still thinking about a set of egg cups that I should have gone for — next trip!). I’ll be swimming in the calanques of Marseille in August (I actually have a list on my Substack Shortlisted for the city here!). I’m also heading to Biarritz on the southwestern Basque coast to celebrate my birthday in July.

I’m sure I’ll slip an extra trip or two in when I can — it’s such an easy train to take and there are so many places to explore or return to.

On top of it all, you write a column on wine and cocktails for the NYT. What drink are you serving this summer? Any fun recent discoveries or concoctions?

I love writing the NYT pieces mainly because my editors really let me explore what’s been interesting me in the beverage space. I recently wrote a piece on sotol, which I’ve been wanting to write for a few years. My partner is from Mexico City, and we spend a few months each year based there so the “research” for that one on the ground was particularly fun. The Tinto de Verano piece was a very fun one to write and is a beloved recipe to pull out the moment the weather heats up. That said, the drink I’m serving this summer is the drink I serve every summer: rosé piscine (rosé with ice in it), which I wrote about for Food & Wine (here!).

Your apartment, with its epic view of the Eiffel Tower, features prominently in your book photography and on Instagram. Where are you and what’s your favorite thing about your neighborhood?

It’s hard not to take a photo every time I step out onto the balcony! I live in Montmartre and I absolutely love it. While it can, of course, get quite crowded around the Sacré Cœur, if you walk a few streets away, you’ll find the neighborhood really maintains its village energy — more so than anywhere else I’ve lived in Paris. When I first moved to the city, I bopped around between places, and when I finally landed in the 18ème something really settled for me. I have my coffee shop (Clove on rue Chappe!), I have my aforementioned places to stop for baguette or a croissant, I know the people at the flower shop and the épicerie and the fromagerie and the wine shop. I have my dry cleaner and friends in the neighborhood I can count on to meet for a quick apéro, or water each other’s plants when we’re traveling. I think a lot about what I love about living in Paris comes down to living in my neighborhood. My favorite thing about where I live might be many other people’s favorite thing: it’s a place where people know my name; where I feel welcome. It feels like home.

ESSAY: A Tiny Dictionary of French Restaurant Varieties

By Alexander Lobrano

“I’ve always dreamed of opening a bouillon,” says chef Daniel Rose, a native of Chicago with a bistro in Paris, Le Bourse et La Vie, and a Michelin one-star French table in New York City, Le Coucou. “For me, bouillons are everything, because bouillon is so purely delicious and these places were the precursors of all other French restaurants,” he rightly concludes.

Now, a couple of centuries after they first popped up in Paris during the mid-1700s, bouillons are having a moment again. The new ones are popular for the same reasons as the original ones were—healthy hearty food at low prices. The originals were opened just before the French Revolution to feed working people and travelers bouillon, or hot bowls of clear soup that the French considered restaurant, or restorative. They thrived in major French cities during the 19th century.

The first restaurant in Paris, by the modern definition of a place serving clients from a menu at individual tables, opened in 1765. By 1835, the Académie Française, the august academic board charged with supervising, protecting and disciplining the French language, had accepted restaurant as the proper name for such establishments. More luxurious restaurants opened after the French Revolution, when unemployed chefs hung out their shingles to offer the cooking they once prepared for their aristocratic patrons. Chef Antoine Beauvilliers was the pioneer, opening a luxurious restaurant in the rue de Richelieu after leaving the service of the Count of Provence, and with his success, more followed.

Bistros, inexpensive taverns often in the basements of apartment buildings, emerged as another restaurant type during the 1830s, and then an influx of Alsatians to Paris after France’s loss to Germany during the Franco-Prussian War brought the brasserie to Paris. In Alsace, these were simple auberges next to brasseries (breweries), serving freshly brewed beer and simple meals. In Paris, the idiom bloomed with the Universal Exposition of 1900, and became chic during the 1920s, when La Coupole and other glamorous brasseries added full menus and fresh oysters to their original offerings of Alsatian dishes like choucroute.

Today these terms often befuddle visitors to France, so keep these brief definitions in mind. A bouillon is an inexpensive restaurant with a short menu; the most famous example in Paris is Chartier. Traditional bistros are cozy spots specializing in dishes that are roasted or slow-braised, including roast chicken and boeuf bourguignon (beef braised in red wine with onions, mushrooms and bacon); Josephine Chez Dumonet and the Bistrot des Tournelles are good examples. Modern bistros like Septime exult bistro-style cooking with haute cuisine techniques and luxury ingredients. Brasseries, including Bofinger and Au Pied de Cochon, serve onion soup, steak tartare, shellfish, fish, grills and other dishes, are usually open daily, and feature swift-paced service and moderate to expensive pricing. Restaurant is the catch-all term for a place that serves cooked-to-order food at individual tables. They range from glamorous and expensive Michelin-starred places like Jean Imbert au Plaza Athénée and Comice, to affordable Vietnamese places like Indochine.

Alexander Lobrano is a food and travel writer living in Paris and Uzes. His latest book is the gastronomic coming-of-age story My Place at the Table: A Recipe for a Delicious Life in Paris.

THE SOUVENIR: Rondini Sandals

About 25 years ago, my husband Matt was in St Tropez on a photo shoot and brought me back a pair of sandals from Rondini, the family-owned sandal business that has been making them just shy of 100 years (since 1927!). Sadly, they were a bit big, and I never wore them, but I also never got rid of them, because they just felt like this piece of a place that I dreamed about. Last summer, I finally stayed in St Tropez—I had only ever driven past it in super high season, so we never stayed—and this was my first time. My first stop was Rondini, where they sized me and I picked out the above sandals. As can happen with sandals, they look and feel great when you’re in the store, but somehow you get home and they don’t work, or the sole is so flat that you can’t wear them for very long. These were perfect—I have worn the criss-cross sandal (called the British) for entire days into evenings in NYC, and have had no issues. Okay, they don’t have the cushion of a Birkenstock, but they are supportive, and they look great. —Y.E.