Emily In France Exclusive 🇫🇷 5 Vegetarian-Friendly Classic French Dishes

It's not all about steak-frites

Seeing as I’ve extolled the virtues of everything from andouillette to horse meat, and my standing order at a bistro typically involves beef bourguignon, blood pudding, or both, it may surprise you to learn that when I first moved to France, I was a vegetarian.

I was 15 years old when, at the urging of my high school roommate, I first read Michael Pollan’s “Power Steer.” I gave up meat overnight to begin eating an admittedly fairly unsustainable diet whose cornerstones were 1) pasta with grated cheddar cheese on top and 2) oranges, but that’s another story for another day. All told, I found it fairly easy to eat vegetarian in the U.S. in 2003, with the exception of a Thanksgiving meal cooked by my uncle, where every dish included either chicken stock or sausage drippings.

But all that changed when I came to France.

While I wouldn't relocate to France permanently until I was 19, the summer I turned 16, I was lucky enough to spend a month living and studying in the western French city of Royan. I was welcomed into the home of a local woman who housed several girls from all over the world in her grown children’s empty bedrooms. In advance of the trip, I’d filled out a form that included a section about any dietary restrictions, so when she served everyone else plates of cordon bleu, she was quick to shoot me a smile.

“Don't worry!” she said. “I know about you.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, and moments later, she returned, proudly bearing a plate that held a whole fish, head and all.

I didn't spend even a minute considering whether I was going to eat that fish or not. Prepared with love and care by this stranger, the dish was a welcome gift, and one that I couldn't refuse. (I learned once we got back to school in September that the roommate who had turned me onto Pollan in the first place had had a similar experience that summer in China, only her welcome gift was the fattiest cut of yak meat. She too found she couldn't refuse it, though from what I understood, it was a bit tougher to swallow.)

My vegetarianism eroded that summer to pescatarianism, and soon after faded away entirely. This was, in some parts, linked to my love of cheeseburgers and sushi, but it was due in no small part to the relative unfamiliarity, at the time, with vegetarianism in France. When I said I didn't eat meat, some French people would assume that I did eat poultry, or even beef, eschewing only pork. Others assumed I was more restrictive than I was, avoiding eggs and cheese as well as meat. After quite a few miscommunications – and far too many 13-euro salads topped with little more than grated carrots and mealy winter tomatoes, I decided that it was enough to consume meat as sustainably and responsibly as I could, something I hold to to this day, when, despite public evidence to the contrary, at home, I actually eat a mainly vegetarian – and largely vegan – diet.

If you’re vegetarian in Paris these days, you're far luckier than I was when I moved here over a decade ago. Choices abound, from the copious vegan sandwiches at Plan D to the beautiful plant-driven small plates at Pristine to the flexible menu at Semilla, where there’s something for everyone.

Many of these spots take advantage of international flavors and recipes to ensure that meat-averse diners always have something delicious to dig into. But if you're on the lookout for classically French dishes, do not despair. A handful of options can be found on even the most stalwartly classic of French menus. Here are my favorites.

1. Omelette

Whereas an omelette, in America, is predominantly a breakfast offering, in France, where breakfast tends to be of the small-and-sweet variety, an omelette is the prototypical weeknight main. When you're too tired or too busy to cook, when there’s nothing in the house but a carton of six oeufs, an omelette is the perfect dish to whisk together, to enjoy on its own or alongside a leafy green salad with vinaigrette.

Some of my favorite omelettes have been made by my dear friend Régine Pla, who keeps her own hens in her backyard in Paziols. I typically ask her to make me an omelette as my farewell dinner, so that I can cram the leftovers onto a length of baguette, drizzling them with a few drops of her homemade wine vinegar, to enjoy on the train ride home (or, as I did recently, on a park bench in my next destination, in this case, the tiny French village of Montolieu, which boasts 15 bookshops for just over 800 residents.)

A truly French omelette is far more than the sum of its parts, which number just two: great eggs and great butter. There’s true technique in achieving the perfect omelette, which should be pale yellow and pillowy on the outside and still gooey within. Yves Camdeborde is perhaps Paris’ reigning master of the dish: As a young apprentice, the Béarn-born chef was randomly set the task of making a classic omelette aux fines herbes in three of the four challenges he was set for his CAP and ensuing Meilleur Apprenti de France contest. He showcased his technique for an article I wrote for the BBC.

While Camdeborde’s omelette took advantage of his hometown's love of charcuterie, on Parisian brasserie menus, it’s not uncommon to find omelettes filled with vegetarian fillings like cheese or mushrooms, the runny egg coating every delicate morsel. Typically served with fries and a green salad, such an omelette is a blissful testament to what simple ingredients and good technique can do.