There’s a little theatre to dinner at Azabu, and the surprises aren’t all on the plate.
The counter is the place to sit: it wraps around the grill and puts you right beside the chef at work. It’s a small, welcoming room, with simple décor and a minimal menu. Chestnuts and chestnut leaves decorated the counter for autumn—I loved that very Japanese attention to the season.
The chef kept surprising us, from one small dish to the next. There was real artistry in the balance of flavours and textures, and the care taken over every small detail. I’d go back for the tsukuné chicken patties, the slightly fusion autumn duck dish and the ponzu wagyu beef.
Over dinner, we learnt that Azabu has a sister restaurant in Kyoto, serving French food to homesick tourists—an amusing cultural flip-flop. Then, just as we were finishing, the chef’s miniature teckel puppy dashed out of the kitchen and began a round of the tables, which was a delightful end to the evening!
Azabu, 3 Rue André Mazet, 75006 Paris
Some little bits of extra information I stumbled upon: the building now occupied by Azabu is more recent, but it stands on the site of Restaurant Magny, where regular dinners in the 1860s brought together Flaubert, George Sand and other writers and intellectuals. This little street follows the old inner path of Philippe-Auguste’s wall (12th c.), and was once known as the ruelle des Murs; there was an ancient coaching inn, the Auberge du Cheval Blanc, in the next building to Azabu, demolished in 1906.
