1.3 The Blue Notes – Moonshiner

December 15th

Moonshiner—h2130

A rainy night. 

Near Place Des Vosges, on the outskirts of the Marais, the backstreets are slick and empty. The three of us scamper across the wide Boulevard Beaumarchais. Rain picks up. It’s near freezing. Street lights reflect in a violent orange hue.

My feet are damp, but my mouth tastes of a perfectly charred steak from Le Petit Marche. 

Around the corner lies a pizzeria. We’re not eating again.

We enter, greet ‘bonsoir’ and cut through to the back. To the cooler. My friend isn’t expecting it. We’re in the cooler now. Miscellaneous stock, barrels, boxes and cartons are stored behind a wired cage. I force him to wait an extra second.

On the far wall lies a trap door. I turn the handle. 

Here we are. A crowded, backlit bar aka the Moonshiner. 

Buena Sera. The bartender yells over the crowd. They’re wearing 30’s attire and listening to 70’s music.

I scour the room. A herd has formed, as sheep normally do, in the narrowest area of the bar, making it very difficult to pass. Every seat is occupied. Hype kids. Don’t step on anyone’s shoes.

Two Vodka Pomegranates and 1 Negroni. I direct us to the smoking lounge. Here, we’re able to procure a few stools, and schmooze without the imposing screeches and elbows of neighbors. 

Tucked behind candle-lit tables, tightly-knit couples line the other wall. 

My buddy flips through pictures of his two weeks in Morocco, vehemently explaining the scarcity of alcohol in the country, and how every bar was technically a real Speakeasy. His iPhone 8Plus captures the sublime light of the Sahara. Of the Atlas Mountains. Of the blue city, Chefchaouen. 

1 Gin & Honey and Two Negronis this time. We switch to the political system in the US. ‘The Republicans play the game better.’ Brash, manipulative, insidious—in politics, these are all considered qualities. Democrats won seats in the house, but it’s not enough. 

We face two problems: their subordinates and their superiors.  

The US has become so bipartisan that if anyone is out of alignment, the system fails. This, to me, feels…outdated.

My eyes wander to others in the room. Darkness obscures their faces, and space obscures their voices. It’s my turn. I leave to get more drinks.

Near the bar, I recognise a man from the smoking room. A 90’s Leo lookalike in a well-cut white T-shirt. He’s short (I’m 195 cm. People are short.), and wears the smile of a young, yet already successful man, a person who knows exactly where he’s going next. His ravishing date joins him, and they exit in a cloud of sparkling dust. Merci, to the bartender in a beret and vest, and I head back to the smoking section.

1 Gin & Honey, 1 Gin-Campari and Vermouth (Negroni) and the piece de resistance a Gin, Cucumber and Yogurt cocktail. Frothy, refreshing, phenomenal.  

After the drink, we pack up, and stumble outside.  

Fin.

1.2 The Blue Notes – Le Cinquante
1.4 The Blue Notes – L’Etincelle      

1.2 The Blue Notes – Le Cinquante

December 15th

Le Cinquante—h0030

Down Rue de Lancry we walk. A car passes. People hover outside of a bar. People always hover outside of this bar. We enter. Foggy. Cramped. Everyone’s dressed in black. Bunch of late to the party beatniks, Hip boys and girls, probably design majors, who now work at bars and coffee shops in newly gentrified neighbourhoods. I love it.

The bartender is a woman who doesn’t wear makeup, and she dresses in faded button down shirts like she’s in a rock band. 3 Caipis—the special—they’re terrible—but they’re strong af. 

 The whole neighbourhood is here. People bump every goddamn time they pass. I’m starting to feel it, feel the Caipi. 

I look to my girlfriend. She smiles back. 

My friend returns from the bathroom. 

We chat a bit more; about what? I can’t say.

We order another Caipi and two beers. My friend wants to smoke a cigarette. Two extremely large men with hoop earrings and black beanies look like they’d have some. 

“Want me to ask?”

“No thanks. My parents.”

He comments on my girlfriend’s coat, says it must weigh 20 pounds. Definitely doesn’t help the claustrophobia. It’s big, it’s green and it’s plushy. 

A man drunkenly bumps her. Her drink spills onto the coat. ‘Putain!’ she yells, wanting him to notice.

The guy looks over, blasé—casualties of war. 

My friend steps in—he speaks in English to the culprit.

The culprit doesn’t like that. They begin arguing in a comedic way. ‘We saved your asses in WW2. If it wasn’t for us, you’d be speaking German.’ ‘Il n’a pas de nuance.’ The insults fall flat. Neither can understand the other. Therefore, it’s a draw. 

The man buys us shots of brown liquid. As a sorry. We Shoot. Low-grade Whiskey, disgusting and unnecessary. 

We call it a night. Buzzed.

A terrible taste lingers.

Fin

1.1 The Blue Notes – La Patache
1.3 The Blue Notes – Moonshiner

1.1 The Blue Notes – La Patache

December 14th
La Patache—h2200

Across Canal Saint Martin we traverse. A bar by the water. La Patache. My friend, I see him through the front windows.

“A table for three.”
“Seat yourselves.”

I look around, disoriented from the cold. Great vibes. Bubbling. My girlfriend spots a table in the back. We sit.

2 Camden IPAs and a glass of red.

I’m here, thought I saw you, but now I don’t. A message displays on my phone. It’s from him. My friend. Sounds morbid. Or romantic even.

I laugh and show him.

Polite talk. Small talk. As the glass empties, the depth increases. I ask about people back home. All good, he says.
It’s always; ‘All good,’ or ‘Nothing much.’ Our friends and family are ageing and our cities are becoming unrecognisable. It’s true. While Seattle’s skyline grows higher, New York’s roots of gentrification stretch outward. Paris’s new ‘à la mode’ neighbourhood, in contrast, seems like something of a dart toss.

He asks about the situation in France. Pretty f***ed, we say. Stay away from Etoile tomorrow, I tell him.

2 Jupiler’s and 1 Camden IPA. The server makes a joke in French. My girlfriend laughs. I didn’t get it. They look at me, waiting for a response. ‘He’s really gotten better at French though,’ she says.

Means a lot . (*Love you*)

The adjacent table has finished their charcuterie plate.

Talk turns to heavier issues. My friend’s divorce. My friend’s life before his year around the world. He’s very open about it. He wonders why we’re not married yet. Many ask. Yet, I’ve never asked myself.

Talk shifts to his travels. Says it’s been great. Great times. He has photos. And he really liked Portugal, though his phone was stolen in Lisbon.

After that, I can’t remember. We finish our drinks. We pack up. We leave.

A cat sits, perched on a shelf, overlooking the bar. My friend and I step out. My girlfriend stays. She pets the cat. Outside he tells me how much he loves being single. How much he’s loved traveling while being single.

Paris, living in Paris is pretty cool still.

It’s the golden age for being single, my roommate in New York once told me. Now, he’s in a relationship.

The Bowtie’s Big Ass Guide to Every Neighbourhood of Paris: Belleville

December 2018
There’s a reason that Parisians stay hush-hush about the panorama at the top of Belleville Parc. ‘Go to Montmartre,’ they’ll say.

Setting.

Red, neon words ‘Le President’ hang over the riffraff like a heavyweight championship belt. Beneath, Chinese Hanji are spangled in gold. Enter the chaotic intersection of Belleville station.

It’s a little less French, and a little more foreign than Paris’ center. Chinatown Deux, some call it, but Chinese, Vietnamese, Arabic and, French can be heard in passing.

Headlights, truck horns, and construction mute the distinctions. Exhaust billows. Chinese markets, Noodle houses, and Bazaars occupy shops. TripAdvisor, Yelp, and LonelyPlanet stickers occupy shop windows. 

The Metro station feels urban, in contrast to other parts of Paris, and therefore much more grounded and visceral.

Hidden, only steps away, this area has the iconic, whirling streets of Paris. These picturesque inlets are full of gastropubs, cocktail bars, and murals that signal, gentrification has already passed through. 

The truth is that Belleville has always been home to an expansive artistic legacy. The ascension of Edith Piaf only embellishes its significance. 

Belleville has developed into one of the more complex neighborhoods of Paris. It’s not normally a box on a traveler’s to-do list. But it should be.

To the East, a steep incline leads to park Belleville and a panorama of the city. Place Republique is to the west; Pere Lachaise is to the South, and Buttes Chaumont and Basin de la Villette are to the North.

Haunts. 

Three distinct areas supply the Belle-villainous night-life with entertainment; Rue Sainte Marthe, South on Boulevard de Belleville, and uphill on Avenue de Belleville. Each area has their pillar, a city renowned cocktail bar.

A hibiscus-infused gin cocktail, house-made, alongside a small plate of Terrine and Cornichons–that’s Combat. The highly reputed bar, hatched by three graduates of the venerable Experimental Cocktail Club, has gained respect throughout Europe for their craft and ingenuity.

With a large group? Stop at La Commune, another magnet of Belleville. Greenhouse, tropicals vibes at this joint. The punch bowls, from the creators of Le Syndicat, leave you tipsy without much pain in your pocket.

The vivid Rue Sainte Marthe holds enough places for a weekend on its own. You can stop at Le Renard, the second opening from Les Animaux group. 8 Euro cocktails after 9pm…not a typo.

Next Door, Le Gallopin, serves up top-notch French Cuisine, from a Top Chef winner. Across the courtyard, Cave à Michel, opened by the same top chef champ, serves casual fare.

With ordinary facades on the outside, but wild crowds on weekends, Le 9b and Le Hasbeen are the best dives for locals. The former has a great alternative vibe, with an intimate, downstairs venue for electro DJs. The latter has a ridiculous price on beer (under 5 Euro).

View.

Along with Chinatown Deux, artist galleries and squats (which I may or may not write about in the future), Belleville also hosts one of the stunning panoramas of Paris. 

It rivals Montmartre.

Except you don’t have to elbow other tourists for a picture. Or get pestered by street salesmen while you’re trying to scale a massive staircase.

The park itself is stunning as well, and in the summer, there’s a large waterfall.

You can find Parc Belleville after a brief hike up Rue de Belleville, or a walk from the Metro Stop: Pyrenees. 

Cordially,

A.

Portrait: Gravity Bar in Jacques Bonsergent

The Up-Close Look at Gravity Bar on December 1st, 2018

A Tour De Force, Gravity Bar stationed itself on Rue de Villetes and began its slow ascent to stardom with quirky whiskey cocktails, and one sacrilegious hummus.

Curved, wooden slats on the ceiling start above my head and cascade behind the barman. Bright, yellow tones glow throughout the bar. It’s well-lit, and well-catered tonight with Gangstarr and Joeystarr from the French rap group NTM shuffling in the background. Loud, but not imposing. Everything flows, the food and drinks fill the gaps of our conversation like smooth sand running through your fingers. 

The cocktails are hit and miss, but when they hit, they impact.

-Alexander Cohiba

A portly server with a skater cap takes our drink order. The Captain says ‘everything but the name’ of his first drink is a wee bit boring. A wee bit brash of him, but the bar retaliates with a whiskey-coffee-cinnamon based drink that really does a number on us. I order a whiskey-apricot drink, which I can co-sign as well. The aforementioned hummus is irreplaceable and should remain like an anchor, placed at the middle of each table. My crew lit up the sashimi as well. The bill ends up being well over 100 Euros, so–parse out your visits.

The crowd rotates between well-informed tourists, locals, and Parisians who enjoy a good cocktail. The atmosphere isn’t pretentious at first glance, however, they can’t take a critique, and that’s a vivid signal of an ego. I’m wary of what stardom does to an ego, but never forget your origins. Never forget the people who wandered into the bar without provocation and left with a smile and a ‘damn that’s some excellent hummus.’

With love,

A.

Landscape Mode: Subversive Tiki Cocktails and the Unknown Territory of Solera

Solera, a luxurious den with a ragtag group of loyal, high-end patrons, thrives on its own genre of gimmicky, tiki cocktails. 

On a pallid, mid-autumn night, I took a brisk walk down a large, dark boulevard past the dome-roofed Observatory tower of Denfert-Rochereau. Trees swayed, and animated the streets, even if I was near alone. Scooters zip by.

Crossing from the 14th arrondissement to the far edge of the 5th, one doesn’t notice much difference in the surroundings. Lamplit stone buildings and black windows fill your periphery.

Halfway down an ordinary street, overheads illuminate an entrance adorned by Stan Smith-ed Parisians.

Emerald green with gold accents–a rich, jungle theme permeates throughout the atmosphere of the bar. Plants fill the corners of the room. Prism-shaped lanterns dangle from the ceiling.  

The layout is simple. A backroom, intimate in spacing, has plushy pillows and sofas. An open front room with raised tables hosts small groups. In the corner, there’s a small DJ setup, and next to the entrance, a lavish bar. 

‘Outstanding’ is how an amateur to cocktails might label their drinks; ‘gimmicky’ is the label of a cynic. I believe ‘quirky’ is the fairest label, but gimmicky, at times isn’t far off.

Our first two cocktails are served in a hollowed out book and a receptacle resembling a water tower. Surprised, I tinker around with the water tower, realizing that you flip a switch to pour your own drink. 

The drinks are both fruity, and sweet, but a slight tang offsets the sugar.

The scene shifts. People return from outside. They beeline to the backroom and their exclusive party. A small group of friends in bomber jackets stands near the DJ. A couple enters through the doors and waits at the bar. The man has long, shaggy hair, and an expensive looking, cascading black jacket. The woman is much older and elegantly dressed with her hair wrapped tight and thick, ovoid glasses. The relationship seems platonic, or business oriented. An artist and an agent? A musician and a band director?

The next round is served in emptied plastic egg shells and a traditional Japanese tea-kettle. These are also good cocktails, but indistinct, in juxtaposition with the first round. 

Solera’s drinks certainly qualify as Tiki Cocktails… served in funky glassware. The owner clearly has a sense of humor, but the drinks and what the bar represents are no joke. 

While planted in a residential wasteland, this bar has defined its own terrain. Normally, cocktails lie in the 3rd, 10th, 11th, or 18th, and only in the 6th on this side of the river. With its location and its glassware, Solera is subverting expectations on two separate occasions. 

You might speculate about the glassware choice.  They remark that it’s about the pairing of food with cocktails. I have a sneaky suspicion of the culprit: Instagram.

In my days, I’ve come across and traveled to shops that have Instagram allure. Whether it was the very mediocre Rainbow Bagels from the Bagel Store in Williamsburg, or Taiyaki’s fish shaped ice cream cones in China Town, people travel to have this moment of ‘Instagram fascination’ with material goods.  You’re submerged in the state of ephemeral wonder because it truly lasts a moment; you consume it, and then the moments over.

The owners tried to conjure that magic with their glassware.

Maybe..Hold on…I’m skeptical of my own theory. 

Their glassware, while unique, aren’t necessarily photogenic. 

#Ugly in a photo

Subversion is the key element to Solera’s drinks. Familiar shapes, such as eggs, oysters, a hollowed book and a tea kettle, by design, bring a comfort to the drink. When the top is peeled back, and you discover alcohol in the engine, the drink is going to be different than any you’ve had before. 

It plays with your head.

And by the time you’ve pulled together what you think of the drink, you’ve already tried it. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing, but I like it, and any open-minded person would as well.

With Love,

Alexander

IG: @Solera.Paris
IG: @african.bowtie

Where to Find Peanut Butter and 14 Other American Condiments in Paris

After a difficult day, you need comfort. After a day where you’ve confused Rue Montmartre with Boulevard Montmartre, received the wrong order for lunch because of a mispronounced vowel, and had that typical grey af Parisian day, the only cure, I think, is like Dorothy once said, home. Home is true comfort.

I’ve written before that ‘Living Abroad’ and ‘Homesickness’ are topics I’d like to address sans alcohol, because ego aside, drinking isn’t the antidote to feeling down. Food, however, is another story.

In France, it’s crazy hard to find a lot of the essential products for American snacks. But with luck, it’s possible. My aim with this post is to help any American and really anyone who’s searching for an ingredient in Paris.

Ps. I’d like this to be an open list, so if you have things you’d like me to add, pls comment below!

The Essentials

Cream Cheese —> St. Moret

Supermarkets (Monop’, Franprix, Carrefour City)

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Via Pinterest

In New York, I had the weekend routine of eating an everything bagel with cream cheese, chili flakes, olive oil and a slice of tomato. Bagels aren’t exactly a French thing, but I thought Cream Cheese would still be great with a fresh, piping hot sesame baguette. France slapped me down, ‘stupid American.’ I couldn’t find cream cheese anywhere, so I thought I’d throw some chèvre on it.

Chèvre is unspreadable. It clumps together in globs of delicious cheese. Not ideal!

Months later, I was at a picnic and someone brought St. Moret and it was revelatory. Aka its France’s superior version of Philadelphia.

You can find it in most major stores in the cheese aisle.

Cheddar —> Mimolette

Supermarkets (Monop, Franprix, Carrefour City)

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Via Pinterest

This sneaky, sneaky cheese can be found dressed up with this fancy name in most major supermarkets. Mimolette is from the North of France, but tastes like it’s from Wisconsin.

Peanut Butter: Jif Style

Cometeshop or Citadium

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This is a purely American product, meaning there’s no chance you find it in French stores. That being said, if you’re craving some sugary ass PB for a decadent PBJ or waffles or banana pancakes, you’ll have to go to the specialty American dealers.

Peanut Butter: Trader Joe’s Style —Pureé de Cacahuètte

Naturalia

Via Pinterest

For the most part, French people don’t like Peanut butter—but a flock of open-minded, granola mf’s have managed to push natural PB to stores like Naturalia and certain Bio sections.

Chilli Flakes — Flocons de Piment

Mark & Spencer

Via Pinterest

Thank you, Mark and Spencer, the GB based supermarket for having an alternative selection of spices. Along with curry ingredients, naan, and crumpets, they have my favorite, and most OP spice—chili flakes.

This is the only surefire method, otherwise, select Italian trattoria’s carry them, and Chinese Markets carry whole dried pimentos.

On the Healthy Side

Kale

Biocoop, Bio C Bon (Rare)

Via Pinterest

Known as Chou Vert Frisé, (Frizzy green cabbage) Kale is a tough find in Paris.  TJ’s had boatloads of Kale, but I guess they haven’t shipped to this side of the Atlantic.

I’ve found it at Bio C Bon, but only on rare occasion, and at Biocoop as well.

Bragg’s Apple Cider Vinegar –> Umberti

Bio C’ Bon

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Via Google

Bio C’ Bon never fails, and although it costs LV prices, Apple Cider Vinegar is the truth.

Scallions

K-Mart or Traiteur Asiatique

Via Pinterest

Normally you can find chives at the supermarket, but for stir-fries and omelets, there’s no replacing scallions. K-mart and other Asian markets are sure to have them.

Frozen Fruits for Smoothies

Picard

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Via Pinterest

Three words—Picard’s got em!

409 Spray—St. Marks

All Supermarkets

You’ve spilled coffee and need cleaning supplies.

Q: Which brand can you trust? 

A: St. Marks is that all-purpose cleaner with a hint of citrus that you’re looking for.

Deep Cuts

Bbq Sauce and Honey Mustard

MyLittleAmerican

Via Pinterest

You’re only likely to find one of these bedrocks of American cuisine where you can find the other. My little American market and Cometeshop are your best bets.

Sriracha

Traiteur Asiatique

Via Pinterest

Essential for my friends and I back home, but I understand, not everyone has warmed up to the Thai Chili sauce.  For this and the next one, search for Traiteur Asiatique or Traiteur Exotique and head to the nearest one.

Hoi Sin

Traiteur Asiatique

Via Pinterest

This beautiful Vietnamese BBQ sauce can be found with the same method.

Rummo pasta

Monoprix

In terms of pasta, you can do plenty better in France, but if Rummo is your MO like me, Monoprix is the place. For some reason, Carrefour only carries Barilla.

With Love,

Alexander

The Bowtie’s Big Ass Guide to Every Neighbourhood in Paris: Jacques Bonsergent

Scene.

Limpid water runs through, halving the quarter, with cafe’s, art galleries and bars on both banks. Bridges loop over Canal Saint Martin. Dangling limbs of deciduous trees and street art span down the length of the promenades. Narrow roads zigzag. Jagged corners cut from old stone buildings, and in between, long shadows, hidden passages that lead to dives, and small tables of Parisians with their feet out. 

This subway stop, named after an immortalized WW1 sergeant, leads to the best hood in Paris.

I live here, so, it’s 100% likely I’m biased.

Runners and Bicyclists cruise around the canal in the AM; hooded teenagers huddle and smoke weed at night. The area is serene, and well located with Gare De L’est to the north, Republique to the south and Belleville to the east.

Haunts.

A green swirled, pistachio and chocolate escargot is the notorious pastry from Du Pain et Des Idees. The Boulangerie is also notorious for its queues.

Liberté, a new school boulangerie has an all-white facade and interior embellished with ruby red framboise croissants. Not your thing? Try a Pasteis from DonAntonia, a sneaky Portuguese bakery just across the canal. Still not your thing, grab a vegan banana chocolate cookie from Ima.

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Surrounded by dangling plants, books and daylight, Radiodays, Ten Belles, and Caoua make a trifecta of cozy coffee shops to lounge, conduct meetings or to f*** up some baked goods.

At night, a myriad of restaurant lights could blind you of the modest frontage of one of the cities best cocktail dens, Gravity Bar. The iconic Chez Prune with it’s UNESCO level terrace is harder to miss.

Across the canal, tucked between two buildings is a pathway to Comptoir General, an African nightclub fixed with palm trees and frighteningly strong Ti-Punches. On a small street near the canal, Brigitte serves up great classic cocktails and ambiance. L’Apostrophe is a dim-lit dive with live Jazz every Saturday and cheap glasses of red. If you can wait until morning, Restaurant Nola has a boozy Jazz brunch and Jambalaya.

Rue des Viniagres, Rue Lancry, Rue Lucien Sampaix and the riverwalks create a web of nightlife and neighborhood gems. Next to the hospital, Rue Marie et Louise and Rue Bichat also hold some surprising gastronomic dives. It’s also the location of the painful, and terrible night of November 13th, 2015.

Several of the bars are still open, so you can grab a pint and feel the solidarity.

History.

The history of the canals is well-documented by persons far more qualified than me, so, I’ll keep my synopsis brief.

The canal’s creation dates back to Napoleonic times. The emperor hollowed the canals to give Paris access to fresh water from the River Ourc. They transformed into a pivotal shipment route for agriculture, as the surrounding area at that time were pastures of farmland. The city spread, and infrastructure plucked and replaced pastoral life. The canals lost relevance.

In the 60’s, the decaying waterways were to be paved over by cement. Luckily, in an act of philosophical foresight, France overturned, and the canals remained. In the late 90’s and early 2000’s gentrification occurred around the canals, as the area had low rent and was close in proximity to the centric hub, Place Republique. 

The 10th Arrondissement is too good. The two tastes of a Parisian and a New Yorker went on a Tinder date and had a baby.

A neighborhood can be many things; Chelsea and Soho had expensive, shiny objects that were fun to look at, but ultimately hollow; Harlem and Saint Germain Des Pres have an amazing legacy, both vastly different in content and culture; but it’s rare and personal, I believe, for a neighborhood to hold that power, which makes you not want to be anywhere else.

With Love,

Alexander

@african.bowtie

World-Class Cocktails and a Landscape Redefined at CopperBay

Home to a battery of bars, street food, theaters, and bobo haunts, the flourishing 10th arrondissement of Paris is brimming with places. So much so, that its consistency could be its own downfall. Steps east and west of Chateau D’eau, citizens flood from the subway stop and pack nearby haunts. You’ll pass black trench coats, drug dealing, Doc Marten’s, Indian food, large hats, homelessness, handsome dogs, and litter. Oh, joie.

Copper Bay, however, is an outpost.

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via Copperbay.fr

On a small, unassuming street, lies this superb cocktail lounge that makes everything look easy.  Ambiance. Crowd. Modesty. Soul, check. Theme*? I think so, but it doesn’t need one. Cocktails? Yes, and they make them very, very well.

The bar front doesn’t announce itself with spangled lights or a flappy sign, but rather 1 or 2 Parisiennes out front, speaking in a hushed, sophisticated tone over cigarettes.

Dark blue and orange tones light a spacious room.  It’s filled with well-dressed people who don’t intrude on your agenda with theirs, but rather, set a convivial backdrop to a fantastic stop in your night.

Via CopperBay.fr

Cocktail bars of this caliber, succumb to their ego–I’ve had unpleasant experiences at many of the renowned bars in the LES, E. Village, and even (gasp) Pigalle.

CopperBay is modest.

The bar’s remote location and its authenticity to the owner, I believe, create this modesty.

Aurelie Panhelleux is busy; it’s Friday 00h30, but she still stops to chat with us a bit about their seasonal menus. She’s earnest in tone and speaks in English, even if I could have gotten the gist in French. (Ahem, maybe)

The menu rotates based on weather rather than date. She said to expect warm, lush ingredients for their upcoming release.

Several patrons enter and give daps, or coddle the bar as if they’re waiting for the bartenders to end their shift. It hits me. They all know each other. As a bar featured on World Best Bars, I assumed differently. Copper Bay should be a destination bar, but by definition, it’s actually a dive bar.

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Within the larger sphere of the 10th quarter’s nightlife, this bar carves a distinct sphere for itself. Copper Bay and it’s patrons consider something other than wine, food, or partying as the main attraction. A new dynamic is added.

The Parisienne scene is more mature and expansive than it was at first glance. Copper Bay isn’t a kitschy tiki bar or a faux speakeasy, like so many other a la mode cocktail bars, rather it’s an authentic refuge that’s amassed a loyal following and cultivated a scene of its own.

The bar transcends the realms of a neighborhood staple and a cocktail bar on the world’s stage. This could have only happened now, in our era. Social Media allows us to probe into other spheres of life, to discover what we wouldn’t have known in past lives.

Still, Paris is off the grid to Anglosaxons. Sifting through trashy tourist reviews and a wine-based palate of the French is like searching two different worlds. There are two Paris’s, one that’s wholly French and one that is a bit like a theme park. Copper Bay angles its way into an invisible space, creating something world-class yet not world renowned.

Sure, it’s documented. But only people who have both researched cocktails, and who are informed about Paris are who will find this establishment.

Aurelie hands us a menu. Thick like a textbook, each cocktail has its own page, a description and a colorful pie graph illustrating each ingredient’s dose.

We order

-Clear my Colada: a modern revisit to the Pina Colada is built with an aged Pineapple rum, emulsified banana, fig and Verjus for a tart finish.

-Mr. Seguin: creamy, purple and savory, the drink is composed of beet juice, chive vodka, and feta cream. 

Both drinks swim smooth and host edible garnishes with them.

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In Paris, I’ve experienced many false friends in the form of sugary, light cocktails. There are a time and place for that, but with the sun sliding further on the horizon each day, with winter coming, one needs to feel belonging, one needs a cozy den to settle in and I wouldn’t have settled anywhere else.

With Love,

Alexander

* Copper Bay is nautical themed.

ps. Copper Bay is currently having a soft opening in Marseille! Congrats!

Copper Bay IG: @copperbay_paris

My IG: @african.bowtie

Portrait Mode: L’Ours Bar in Chateau D’eau

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How do you choose a bar at random in Paris?

On a sweltering, August night, you choose based on the number of Parisian’s clustered out front. On a frigid, November night, you check the windows’ opacity.

L’Ours bar (the bear bar) had a particularly foggy frontage, but it wasn’t the reason we’d chosen the place.

Inside, a blond Brit wearing an oversized, black Supreme sweater sweeps passed us with 4 carbonated highballs in his hands. He nudges two of them to his date, a Frenchie. Whether they know each other or are on a Tinder date isn’t clear. But if it is a date,  L’Ours was a good choice. They santé, and he jokes that ‘this should last them a while.’

It’s crowded.

On its peaks, the bar is elbow to elbow. On its droughts, you’re lucky to find a seat. The usual suspects make an appearance, knit sweaters, blue button-down shirts, Suncoo blouses,  Godard thick-framed glasses.  The crowd isn’t edgy, or pretentious, just your run-of-the-mill Yuppie.

The bar isn’t edgy, or pretentious either; it’s sociable and…kinda fun! There are bear masks hanging from walls. At the bar, jars of quirky garnishes rest in a colorful spectrum. And the liquor selection isn’t overBEARing (boom).

Processed with VSCO with hb2 presetI like L’Ours bar a lot, but, it’s frustrating because they only do things slightly better than average.

They have house cocktails, for example, which is a good sign…a plus! As I taste each of them (Le Grande Ours, Jardin Anglais), one thing becomes clear–they’re too sweet. Still, the L’Ours team makes a good effort (and look polished doing it). The bartenders are quick, down to earth, and professional. For the crowd size, they make a great team.

Five elegant girls swoop in to nab the table that just emptied behind us. The tinder daters leave, so we scoot down on our standing table, and order more drinks. I make a mental note that Happy Hour is a RiDIcuLOus deal at 6 Euro per drink.

Moments later a large swathe of people come through the doors. They look numb, disoriented from the cold. Perhaps a pub crawl, I speculate, and that means it’s time for us to go.

Processed with VSCO with hb2 presetBars such as the L’Ours don’t necessarily make you stop and say, ‘wow, that was a real treat!’  I’m not sure who says that anyways. But their crowd, vibe, and good drinks nudge you in the right direction.

It’s a real treat to have a reliable bar in the arsenal.  One where you can take a pub crawl, a tinder date, or a coworker. The bar is truly lighthearted, and no matter the occasion, it’s a place you can be assured a good time. And that’s sets the bear high for the rest of the evening.

Branding in France distills down to three principles; is it cute, is it time-honored, or is it refined?

I suspiciously eye the garnish–a gummi bear. There’s a soft power in cuteness, just as there’s a soft power in reliability.

With Love,

Alexander

IG: @animauxbars

8 Rue de Paradis, Paris, France

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