Last Friday night, Mathilde and I joined some friends at Le Vertbois, a cute little bistro near Arts et Metiers that opened in mid-2006 just a few doors down from well-regarded tourist fave, l’Ami Louis. Hip but not branché, correct but not particularly ambitious, Le Vertbois offers a decent value and convivial atmosphere that – if it proves reliable – may just become a good standby address in its neck of the 3rd.

The restaurant is rather small, with perhaps 16 covers on the main floor and the same upstairs. Decor is a minimal retro-chic, with little embellishment beyond the choice of furniture and fixtures. On the left wall, three ceiling-high mirrors and reproduction sconces air out the narrow dining room, while on the right wall smaller mirrors and the menu ardoise take up what little space is left at the end of the long zinc bar. In the rear a creaky, wooden spiral staircase – which I would recommend ascending one-at-a-time for safety’s sake – leads to another dining room, the WC and the kitchen.

We were seated upstairs, which was quieter and more intimate than the elbow-to-elbow main floor. The paneled walls are painted a very light green, the wider front of the room is separated from the narrower back by a tasteful piece of scrolled ironwork, and each table sports a blackamoor candlestick (the French are far more tolerant of this sort of imagery than PC Americans). I was rather fond of the seating – cheekily gilt Louis XV wickerback armchairs.

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The carte includes 5 starters, perhaps 7 mains and 4 desserts, with a 3-course dinner formule at 25 euros. Three of us went for the croustillant des gambas aux poireaux, prawns and sauteed leeks backed in a crepe wrapper, served atop mesclun. It was quite good, the sweetness and softness of the leeks providing a homey counterpoint to the toothsome, savory prawns. I was famished and put mine away in moments. Mathilde had raved about the honey-baked camembert she tried on a previous visit, but the fourth appetizer looked less like the menu-advertised baked chevre and more like a lowly chevre tartine.

Mains were solid and correct. My entrecote was perfectly sanguiner, with little drops of blood pooling on its sides. Around the table, there were no complaints over the confit de canarde, parmentier de poisson, or grilled TK. The plating was simple – for me, a pool of sauce au poivre, a small cup of roquette, and three skinned, roasted baby potatoes. Mashed potatoes accompanied the duck, and some greens crowned the parmentier, but I found it rather incongruent and lazy to pair the grilled fish with another three roasted potatoes. Likewise, the recurrent garnitures of roquette and mung beansprouts were rather boring. All told, however, the meal was quite satisfying, and the young servers were friendly and attentive throughout.

Although the food was good, and the service and space tres geniale, short of the croustillant I had encountered no new combinations on the menu or on the plate. I tend to believe that, as far as middle-of-the-market Parisian restaurants go, 30 euros for a 3 course dinner is the general threshold between run-of-the-mill joints and places with a little more panache. Well-informed eaters know, however, that there are a number of spots throughout the capital that offer reasonably interesting – or simply excellent – fare at around the 25 euro mark. One of these I am particularly fond of is just around the corner from my apartment: le Pre Verre offers a dinner formule of 25.50, and on the whole its menu shows far more thought and experiment than Le Vertbois – e.g. rasberry and yellow bell pepper claufoutis. For my money, I prefer such liberal kitchens, but if you’re looking for a moderately-priced trad-French meal with a hip veneer, then Le Vertbois is worth considering.

Le Vertbois
38, rue Vertbois, 3rd
01.42.71.66.95