Very old and very tiny, Au Pied de Fouet packs a handful of tables onto each of its no-frills floors and feeds its faithful clientele with unpretentious French cuisine: blanquette de veau or tripoux, washed down with decent wine. Authentically enough, the chef-patron is from the Auvergne, where the originators of the city’s first bistros were from. Regulars have their own numbered napkins, stored in the meuble à serviettes; all comers are seated cheek-by-jowl, in front of checked tablecloths and gleaming wine glasses. There’s now a second location, on rue St-Benoît in the 6ème.