In Paris, a hoi polloi melting pot

Le Fumoir is a melting pot for the mid-level hoi polloi. At any given point, you might bump into the waitress who couldn’t care less, the impeccably-dressed writer who’s actually getting something done, the maître d’ who says "I am a snob'' simply in the way he adjusts the blinds, smiling bartenders, tourists who realized they’ve lucked into a good find, and a woman who’s got a good 25 years on her lover, both looking happy as clams. (I’ve recently learned that her breed is known as a cougar – more power to her.)

There are lots of nonclient quirks for better and for worse: a Costes-brothers-of-the-1950s style space with big, beautiful lacquered bathrooms, paired with a vaguely Asian menu theme. And maté. Surprisingly good maté, served in a big gourd with a bombilla and a big iron teapot of hot water.

Most places have a clientele you can lump into a group, but here in the middle of town, a stone’s throw from the Louvre’s Cour Carré, it’s what the French would call Le Melting Pot.

It shoudn’t stick.

It sticks.

Pass the maté.

Le Fumoir
6 Rue de l'Amiral de Coligny
Paris
011 33 (0)1 42 92 00 24

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe