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<\/p>\n PARIS, FRANCE \u2013 It\u2019s 9:15pm and Paris is hungry \u2013 and many locals are craving their native French fare. For those near the Rue des Martyrs in the 18th <\/sup>arrondissement, Miroir, one of the last authentic French bistros, is the place to be on such an evening. The seats have been filled at Miroir since before 9:00pm, but that doesn\u2019t stop a line of twelve from cluttering at the door. Despite the intimidating queue, passersby pause at the storefront to scan the menu taped to the glass door. Several pairs are won over and join the waiting party.<\/p>\n Customers are greeted with the friendly bonsoirs of Chef S\u00e9bastian Guenard and his small crew \u2013 and by the intoxicating smells of wine and sweet broths. The restaurant name Miroir, French for\u00a0mirror<\/em>, is fitting. Several large mirrors with gold painted frames don the walls. A red leather booth lines the perimeter of the left wall; small, mismatched tables stand opposite of it. Many of them have been pushed together, morphing them into a makeshift banquet table for larger parties. Looking to the right, a wall of French wines stands. Slipped in between several bottles is a hardbound copy of\u00a0The Only Street in Paris,<\/em>\u00a0a book by Elaine Sciolino of the New York Times. The book features Guenard and his bistro on several occasions.<\/p>\n Tonight\u2019s menu is an array of classic French cuisines. Slices of baguette and salami are laid out on wooden platters. They are shortly followed by cheesy puff pastries and fried seafood bites.\u00a0Foie gras<\/em>, a French delicacy, is brought out as a starter dish. What appears to be thin slices of savory butter adorned by slices of red beets and chopped green onions is none other than cuts of a force-fed duck\u2019s liver. The main course, an impeccably cooked chicken with homemade broth and spices, is a crowd pleaser. The dessert,\u00a0quenelle chocolat<\/em>, closes the meal \u2013 it is a rich, thick mousse, drizzled with caramel and chocolate crumbs.<\/p>\n The restaurant, from its menu to its d\u00e9cor – is unmistakably French. But these intricate French concoctions aren\u2019t created by native Parisians. Rather, they are the creations of Guenard and his three immigrant cooks in a tight six-by-six kitchen.<\/p>\n A tall, dark-skinned cook towers over a burning stove top, stirring and moving around metal pots holding different broths: chicken, mushroom, beef, seafood, pork, and cauliflower. His name is Lassana, and he is an immigrant from Senegal. He speaks little English on top of his French, but he tries to communicate with English-speaking diners through his fellow cook, Muhammad. After all, restaurant patrons are eager to learn the secrets of his culinary creations. Muhammad, an immigrant from Sri Lanka came to Paris to find work two years ago \u2013 and has been a cook at Miroir ever since. It\u2019s the first day on the job for the third cook, Franky, another immigrant from Sri Lanka. Together, they give customers a taste of Paris.<\/p>\n Chef S\u00e9bastian Guenard and his cooks are breathing new life into the French bistro.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" By Katherine Trout The main course for a dinner at Miroir. PARIS, FRANCE \u2013 It\u2019s 9:15pm and Paris is hungry \u2013 and many locals are craving their native French fare. For those near the Rue des Martyrs in the 18th arrondissement, Miroir, one of the last authentic French bistros, is the place to be … <\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/commons.princeton.edu\/pariscasestudy\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2017\/03\/FullSizeRender.jpg-1-595x486.jpeg\")
The main course for a dinner at Miroir.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n