Frenchie Bar à Vins

6 rue du Nil, 75002 Paris

We would never call ourselves “cool kids.” We don’t fit the bill. We would also be lying through our teeth if we didn’t say we did feel cool eating at this local, extraordinarily hip spot.

The recipes are primal — pig fat and salt, acid and crunch, things that bleed a little when you cut into them. Wine-focused small plates hit the table like acts of rebellion: burnt edges, unfiltered flavor, creative. You eat with your fingers because forks feel like overthinking it.

Wine list is a fever dream of bottles that taste like they’ve been dug up, fermented by ghosts, and poured by someone who’s too cool to care what you think. You’ll drink something cloudy and strange that makes you grin like an idiot or indulge in an oak barreled white so dry that it will make you forget your name.

The coolest.