In a modern city filled with all manner of contemporary cuisine and global fusion, can a restaurant that strives to simply be traditional still work? The owners of Pastis hope so.
The French bistro began its life in 2000 in the Meatpacking District of New York, although it took a five-year hiatus over a rent dispute before reopening in 2019. For the buzzy Wynwood location, the first of several clones planned to open around the country, restaurateurs Keith McNally and Stephen Starr recreated the original seemingly piece by piece.
Off-white mosaic floors look like they’ve been worn down by decades of use. Gold-framed mirrors and simple wooden table and chair setups look sourced from a Parisian antique shop. By day, the line of doors along the north wall fills the space with sunlight. At night, the warm glow of sconces gives it a tobacco-stained authenticity. Outside, a courtyard full of leafy trees and cozy nooks feels like a summer afternoon in Bordeaux.
Though it looks the same, Pastis Miami boasts an expanded menu that includes dishes from the south of France, like the snapper provencal and a poached fish dish served in aioli. From there, the menu largely stays true to the Parisian theme with dishes you’ve seen before (salade nicoise, escargot, croque monsieur) and, in some cases, quite possibly the best versions of them you’ve had—the hangar steak frites is as tender as the butter used to base it.
All of it’s very good, without trying to be something new, which according to Starr is kind of the point. “Classics are classics,” he says. “Why try and reinvent? Why try and do French-Mexican-Ukrainian or what? I mean, that’s just trying too hard.”
There’s history in these dishes, he says, centuries of improving the recipes. “These are dishes you could’ve eaten in 1928 and we’ll still be eating in 2038.”
At the end of a meal at Pastis, get the black licorice liqueur that inspired the name, and an order of the profiteroles, puffy vanilla ice cream sandwiches draped in bittersweet chocolate sauce tableside. There’s nothing new about either of them, but there’s also something comforting, enjoyable, and nostalgic about an old standard. Perhaps it’s a reminder of a meal with a view of the Eiffel Tower, lazily sipping a white wine made not far away. Or maybe it’s just because it’s good.
