Chez Marius

On Rue de Chabrol, the Parisian facades line up, true to form, until a storefront in a pretty faded blue invites you to slow down. Chez Marius is the kind of place where you first walk in for a drink and end up leaving hours later, after ordering half the menu. “Wine bar” and “osteria” are written on the window—a clever blend of two cultures that sets the scene. The interior exudes retro charm: closely spaced tables, warm lighting, checkered tablecloths, ornate walls, a stuffed fox, stacks of bottles, and the atmosphere of a neighborhood bar where conversations gradually grow louder. In the kitchen, it’s Dimitri Gris, il cuoco. Originally from the Dolomites, the chef spent many years honing his craft at CoVino in Venice before crossing the Alps to settle in France. This journey is reflected on the plate, blending deep-rooted Italian traditions with a more free-spirited cuisine, guided by the seasons and daily deliveries. The dishes constantly walk the fine line of provocation, being both bold and delicate at the same time. A tartare served on a marrow bone, brain in a mapo dish, chicken neck in its broth.  Dishes that remind us that, in the past, everything was eaten and nothing went to waste. The culinary repertoire, meanwhile, bridges the two homelands with a masterful balancing act: rosemary-roasted veal sweetbreads sit alongside clams in tomato sauce; a plate of brain dares to be served next to Roman-style artichokes; and duck confit takes its place beside rigatoni with quail ragout. The perfect balance of flavors quickly dispels any reservations. The wine is served unadorned and serves as the final bridge connecting everything on the table. Chez Marius invites us to return to a certain ideal of what a restaurant should be: dishes making the rounds, glasses being refilled, and a dinner that never seems in a hurry to end. Bohemian, noisy, but undeniably vibrant.