Le Cafe de Flore

It seems particularly fitting to write about the Cafe de Flore this week, after talking about beloved Parisian cliches. The streetside cafe is a Parisian trope, and the Flore embodies the all the best parts of the stereotype. It sits on a picturesque corner of a famous boulevard, where locals and tourists alike can bask in the beautiful execution of Baron Haussman’s grand designs for the city while sipping their coffee. The cafe itself is a work of art. No detail, from the green and gold tabletops to the Cafe de Flore crockery, went unconsidered. From an aesthetic perspective, the cafe is a Parisian dream – one I’m only too happy to have recur over and over.

I wasn’t always sold on the Flore, I confess. The cafe is the kind of place you pay to experience, no matter how little you actually order. The attention to detail in the decor and the training of the staff, who are all career servers, is reflected in the prices. When I was younger, especially when I was broke and living in Paris, I found it hard to justify paying that kind of experience tax when there were similar cafes all over that I could visit whenever I liked. I took friends to the Cafe de Flore when they visited, but otherwise gave it a wide berth.

My attitude changed over time. The place grew on me. Especially when we moved back to Canada. When you can only spend a few weeks of the year in Paris, the appeal of the cliches increases. Upon returning to the city, it’s the familiar that draws you back, because it’s comfortable and because those familiar places are the scenes of your happy memories. The Cafe de Flore is like that for me. Even though it’s crowded and full of tourists. Even though there’s almost always a line for a table if you arrive after 9 am. I’ve spent many happy times there, and I love recapturing them, if only briefly.

Beyond that, for my money, the Flore serves the best cafe creme in Paris. I don’t say that lightly. I don’t even drink coffee, normally. But the appeal of the coffee at the Flore, served with a small pitcher of hot milk, is undeniable. I can’t resist it. It pairs perfectly with a crisp, buttery croissant. No other cup of coffee I’ve ever drunk compares to it. I don’t know that any true coffee connoisseurs would say the same. But I love the cafe creme at the Flore and I will go back for it for as long as it stays the same.

…which it likely will forever. There are no surprises on the menu at the Cafe de Flore. It rarely, if ever, changes; they serve French classics. That’s what they’re good at, what they’re known for and what people come back for. And that’s the point, now. Cafes like the Flore are a dime a dozen in Paris. But like anything else, they change with the times. Menus change as chefs change and evolve to suit modern tastes. From visit to visit, you never know what you might find on the menu at your favourite Parisian restaurants. But you can always rely on finding your old favourites at the Cafe de Flore.

Paris is evolving, too. It will always be Paris, but in many ways, it’s so different from the place I visited for the first time when I was in high school. Change may be the only constant in life, but there’s something lovely about finding a place that you can depend on to defy the evolutionary odds. In the French capital, the Cafe de Flore is that place. It’s a constant in a chaotic place. And that’s what I’ve come to love most about it, after all these years.

Le Cafe de Flore
172, boulevard Saint-Germain, 75006, Paris, France
01 45 48 55 26