After so many tartines and croissants and dark Parisian swill pretending to be coffee, a real breakfast! I downed the velvety scrambled and spread the entire golden brick on my whole wheat toast. Coutume cafe is known for their coffee, but I give them credit for their breakfast. It's the kind that leads to a deep, satisfying nap.
I don't care much for the coffee geekery - the siphons, the conical drips, etc. I was happy to simply get a decent latte, this one with three shots. The price was right - about 3 and a half euros, the same price I pay for the dirt milk served in most Parisian cafes.
Definitely an expat crowd - Englishmen, Ozzies and Americans were there in force. I wasn't sure I was in Paris until....
......I spotted the Frenchie in the corner, reading Charlie Hebdo, his dog keeping guard.
I can see myself coming here whenever I get fed up with the usual Paris fare. In other words, quite often. If you don't want breakfast, they offer pastries from Patisserie des Reves.
47 Rue de Babylone