A Day Drinking in Paris

I pull up to the Hotel Le Grand Mazarin for what will be my first moments in the City of Lights.

Paris is taking center stage this summer as the Olympic Games descend on the metropolis. I’m here, ahead of the games to experience a place I’ve only heard about on TV and in my breathless stories from other people. For some Americans these days, the city is best known as the titular place on Netflix’s Emily in Paris. For me, I’m more excited about its connection to Ernest Hemingway. And, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from his vivid depictions of Paris in books like A Moveable Feast and The Sun Also Rises, the writer knew how to throw a few back.

Dirty Martinis in La Marais

My first stop is the Boubalé bar here at the Mazarin, which opened in October. Me and my friend can’t help but compare the surroundings at the hotel to a Wes Anderson film: vivid colors, spectacular designs. The pool has a stunning al fresco wall, the nearby Boubalé restaurant does as well, boasting a menu of Eastern European dishes, like succulent lamb and warm challah.

The wall next to the marble bar is a warm red and covered with illustrations of flowers in white bubbles; in front is what seems to be a hand painted lamp with brushes of navy blue and touches of red swathes. Needless to say, there’s also a feast for the eyes here, all the work of the designer Martin Brudnizki. It’s 4 pm and we’re about to hit the town, but a drink is in order. To kick off my trip, I order a Dirty Martini; a perennial go-to for me. I usually opt for Ketel One, but here, I’m a bit more adventurous and I choose a Polish vodka called Potocki.

The bartender takes a slender martini glass with a lime green bottom and fills it with ice. Once he prepares the drink, he dumps the ice out of the chilled glass, replacing it with the cocktail. Most dirty martinis I order are murky brown; this one has a red hue, mimicking the walls that surround us. The red stems from the fact I saw him pour the juice from a jug of Kalamata olives directly into the shaker. The Potocki and Kalamata compliment each other perfectly.

Chardonnay by the pool

Paris should actually be dubbed City of Light, because in the summertime, the sun sets here around 10 pm, which will be perfect for future Olympic revelers. That doesn’t mean that the days are full of bright sunshine, however. Some days during my week-long stay in Paris were bright; others were a bit more gloomy, especially in the morning. After taking in iconic tourist spots like The Louvre, on this particular day we headed to the Hotel Molitor for the afternoon.

A massive Art Deco complex built around its iconic pool has been in disrepair for decades after thriving as a sun-drenched playground for kids and adults for sixty years prior. Its claim to fame is that its pool was the spot for the unveiling for the very first G-String Bikini in 1946, courtesy of designer Louis Reard.

A renovation revitalized the pool and installed a spa and a restaurant on the roof dubbed Rooftop Molitor. I order a scrumptious house Chardonnay, which goes perfectly with a plate of Beef Tartare; mixed in are capers and lobster chunks.

Champagne on the Champ

One of the most iconic restaurants in the city is Fouquets, a buzzing eatery since opening way back in 1899. Located on the famed picture-perfect street Champs-Elysées (as well as Avenue Georges V), the red awning that stretches from the building is as memorable as the nearby Arc de Triomphe.

To capitalize on the fame, the swank Hotel Barriere later opened right upstairs, featuring views of the aforementioned sights, sprawling guest rooms, and a stunning spa and pool which wraps around museum-quality sculptures and paintings.

Down at the restaurant, a walk of fame boasts the famous names who have been honored throughout the years; many Hollywood heavyweights like Harrison Ford, Sofia Coppola and Dustin Hoffman made the list. Along with a menu of Parisian delights, duck foie gras and cheese plates are delivered promptly. For this dinner, I opt for a classic bottle of Veuve Clicquot, the famed French champagne; deliciously dry and bubbly, the homegrown product of nearby Reims. The restaurant, the hotel, and these sips amount to pure elegance.

Espresso by the Eifiel

The restaurant Maggie is located in another long-standing Parisian landmark: Hotel Rochechouart, which has been in the Montmartre neighborhood since 1929. It’s another elegant location, and if you’re sensing a theme, elegance has certainly become the motif of the city. Maggie is named after an 18th century neighborhood icon named Marguerite de Rochechouart (she ran the convent here), and the massive dining room boasts high ceilings, white tablecloths and a smattering of plants on top of tiled floors. In other words, you won’t find stuffy elegance here, but a breezy form of class.

Meanwhile, downstairs, a club called Mikado pops off on the weekends. Upstairs at the restaurant, I’m feasting on grilled cheddar and pastrami sliders and a platter of steak. Since it’s early, I order an Espresso Martini. Made with care at its bar which flaunts white pillars, it’s the perfect pick-me-up for my final days here.

However, upstairs from Maggie is the real stunner: a rooftop bar open to the public with Instagram-worthy views of the neighborhood and the Eiffel Tower which sparkles in the distance. To complement the vision, I order sparkling water.

Au Revoir with experimental cocktails

It may be hard to believe, but cocktail bars haven’t always been a Paris staple. As the lore goes, one day in 2007, three friends opened one up in an empty storefront in the city’s Montorgueil neighborhood. The result is the Experimental Cocktail Club, largely credited with influencing the city’s cocktail scene with an inventive menu and locations in London, Venice and soon, New York City.

With a soundtrack of laidback pop (as I sit at the bar, “(Feels Like) Heaven” by Fiction Factory plays over the speakers), the low lights give the space the feel of a speakeasy. I hear the menu changes, but today I spot a Polite Cosmo (with cranberry purée and Scrappy’s Orange Bitters), a Bananarama (with banana liqueur, Michter’s ourbon, and Vermouth), and a Chapulin made with Del Maguey Mezcal, Pimm’s No.1., Chartreuse, and lime bitters.

I order a luscious Chapulin and think back on my experience. Up until last week, Paris was a dream. Now, I’m here in a dream-like state; with the city surprising me with its kindness, elegance, and perfect weather. It’s an ideal concoction for an Olympic city. And, the drinks aren’t too bad, either. Would I return? One word: Oui.

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