Ah, April in Paris.
Nice, sure. Magical, even.
But, ah, March in Paris Club Bistro & Bar: now that’s what we’re talking about. And better yet, it’s open in River North for all your steak-frites-and-champagne-ing needs.
Wait. You look confused. Let’s back up a bit. The Paris Club you knew and loved is gone... kind of. Here’s how the changes break down:
Then: Exposed vents. Subway tiles. Raw concrete. A spacious vision of modern Paris circa 2011.
Now: Oxblood-red leather booths. Wood paneling. Brass chandeliers. About half the space (the other half is transforming into a ramen den soon). Welcome to Paris, 1952.
Then: Small plates, made for sharing.
Now: Large plates, made for sharing. Overflowing shellfish towers and spiced-roasted duck breast à l’orange for deux.
Then: Your hey-we-should-probably-eat-something-before-clubbing place.
Now: Your elbow-rubbing with clients place. Your easy-going midweek mussels at the bar place. Your whispered blandishments over escargots and French 75s with mysteriously accented strangers place. (You can always use another one of those.)
Then: Enter Studio Paris via the staircase near the bar for some post-dinner clubbing.
Now: You’ll find Studio Paris now has its own street-side entrance for post-dinner bottle service.
Vive la différence.
Nice, sure. Magical, even.
But, ah, March in Paris Club Bistro & Bar: now that’s what we’re talking about. And better yet, it’s open in River North for all your steak-frites-and-champagne-ing needs.
Wait. You look confused. Let’s back up a bit. The Paris Club you knew and loved is gone... kind of. Here’s how the changes break down:
Then: Exposed vents. Subway tiles. Raw concrete. A spacious vision of modern Paris circa 2011.
Now: Oxblood-red leather booths. Wood paneling. Brass chandeliers. About half the space (the other half is transforming into a ramen den soon). Welcome to Paris, 1952.
Then: Small plates, made for sharing.
Now: Large plates, made for sharing. Overflowing shellfish towers and spiced-roasted duck breast à l’orange for deux.
Then: Your hey-we-should-probably-eat-something-before-clubbing place.
Now: Your elbow-rubbing with clients place. Your easy-going midweek mussels at the bar place. Your whispered blandishments over escargots and French 75s with mysteriously accented strangers place. (You can always use another one of those.)
Then: Enter Studio Paris via the staircase near the bar for some post-dinner clubbing.
Now: You’ll find Studio Paris now has its own street-side entrance for post-dinner bottle service.
Vive la différence.
