Paris, France
The bar scene in Paris is now equal to, if not better than, London. There I said it. And it felt sooooooo good.
I walked in to Danico at the tail end of this trip, dragging, still sleepy from an exquisite lunch with wine pairings. I sat down at the bar before the evening rush and seated next to me drinking a Perrier and reading a magazine was, I assume, Nico de Soto. He engaged me with small talk about the bar before jumping in when tickets started piling up.
That's the impressive thing about this bar.
You'd look at the board and think they're in the weeds.
But, no. The bar staff, truly some of the best in the world, goes through high production with minimal wait times, while constantly engaging you and making sure you're enjoying the experience.
The room is elegant casual. The atmosphere is uplifting. You know you're in a good bar when everyone is smiling, laughing and gregarious. If you turn out shit cocktails, you don't get good energy in the bar.
The bartenders are just. Nice. Like you want to be friends with them. You want to go to brunch with them. They also smile and laugh. They're genuine.
And they produce some of the best cocktails anywhere.
I can't recite all the innovate and thoughtful creations, because there's so many ingredients that it should be a spectacular failure. But, it's not. It's perfect.
This is their prior menu: https://www.daroco.fr/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/cocktails_DANICO.pdf
I had one drink that made no sense, based on its ingredients. A sublime umami, hint of sweet, spirit-forward concoction. Most importantly, delicious. It shouldn't have worked on this, or any other, planet. When the bartender came over, she said, "What do you think?"
I said, "This is really fucked up."
She gave me an wry smile and replied, "Yes, it is really fucked up."
My evening came to a close, but Danico's was just starting. A bartender asked where I was going next.
I named a couple bars and she was excited to hear about my choices.
But I knew the shameful truth. I wandered up to the Opera House district and pounded a double bacon cheese at Burger King before collapsing, exhausted, in to my hotel bed.
Next time I promise to a make a full night of it. Thank you Danico.
To qualify for The Single Table awards, I had to visit that location in the given calendar year.