Coffee at the Counter: A Parisienne’s Café Adventures

In this column, native Parisian Edith de Belleville — author, attorney, and tour guide — shares café tales and discoveries.

One day when I wanted to review my guided tour on Coco Chanel, I went looking for a place to have a cup of coffee. It was noon and I had a little time before my visit. I was near the Louvre Museum, where there are many cafés for the tired visitor. Well, believe it or not, I had a hard time finding one. There was the Café Ruc, the Café de La Régence and the Café de Paris. But I was quickly disappointed. Because even if they’re called cafés, they are definitely not cafés, because there’s no counter inside. A real Parisian café must have a counter, otherwise it is not a café; it is a restaurant.

Fortunately I remembered the Jean Nicot. In a neighborhood filled with luxury boutiques and touristy restaurants, this café is a gem. First of all, it has been around since 1910 and for me that is always a good sign. I hate trendy, modern places. I like cafés that have a story to tell. And Jean Nicot has one.

He’s also a tobacconist. Imagine that it was the Frenchman Jean Nicot, a diplomat, who imported tobacco to France in the 16th century. Mind you, I could have guessed since it was Monsieur Nicot who gave his name to nicotine.

Outside you have adorable little chairs on the tiny terrace. Inside, a real 1950s decor awaits you. First, there are the incredible beautiful pink and blue neon lights that welcome you to the bar. And then at lunchtime, there are the traditional red and white checked tablecloths that cover the bistro tables. On the wall, a mosaic fresco gives you a glimpse of Jean Nicot’s head.

I sat at the counter. Next to me was a worker in overalls who was renovating the roadway during a break. While drinking his coffee, he was commenting on the speech of the President of the French Republic (the day before on TV) with his neighbor, a taxi driver. In the back room, happy American tourists were devouring their beef bourguignon that Cyril, the friendly café manager, had brought them.

I ordered a coffee at the counter while eyeing the homemade tarte tatin. I can tell you that it is delicious because when I have more time, it always accompanies my coffee here. I really like this café because I know that even in the middle of the midday rush there will always be a little place for me at the counter.

If the café counter is so important it is because it is a place of social mixing. It is perhaps the only place where workers can comment on current events with the manager of the bookstore next door, the saleswoman of the overpriced decoration shop on rue Saint-Honoré, or a lost Francophile Japanese tourist. The coffee counter is where the world is remade. It is the place where everyone gives their strong opinion on politics, the organization of the Olympic Games or football.

As I stirred my spoon in my coffee, I suddenly thought of the phrase by Balzac, who haunted the Comédie Française located 20 meters from Le Jean Nicot. Balzac said “The café’s counter is the people’s parliament.”

My coffee drunk, I said goodbye to my charming neighbors, I cast a painful glance at the appetizing tarte tatin and I rushed off to join my customers and Coco.

As I closed the door, I told myself that in the end the counter is a good criterion for finding a real café in Paris and that Balzac was definitely always right. And then I quickened my pace because if Balzac liked to stroll around Paris, Coco Chanel does not like to wait.

DETAILS
Le Jean Nicot
173, rue Saint-Honoré, 1st
(Closed on weekends)