Brigade du Tigre

An Asian pantry at a Paris pass

The lacquer catches first, on pork, chicken or a glossed piece of beef cheek moving toward the pass. Brigade du Tigre works from an Asian pantry read through a Parisian bistro discipline, in a room on Rue du Faubourg Poissonnière in the 10th Arrondissement built for small plates rather than procession. Two French chefs own it, Adrien Ferrand and Galien Emery, longtime friends who worked together before this, with Emery leading the kitchen and Ferrand carrying the wider vision from Eels, the modern bistro he opened nearby in 2017.

That partnership matters because the house asks for control across formats: a plate may lean Thai in its broth, Chinese in its lacquer, French in its reduction or trim. The room receives dishes made for sharing, for passing across a crowded table, for losing their heat only after the first fork has gone in. Nothing about that arrangement is casual. It means the pass has to send several kinds of cooking at once and keep each one legible.

Lacquer, steam, tempura, broth

Brigade du Tigre’s kitchen works through an Asian pantry seen through a Parisian bistro discipline. The signatures are direct about it: lacquered pork, crispy caramelized chicken, kimchi onigiri ravioli. The method moves between steaming, tempura, lacquering, bouillon, and house ferments, with sriracha, kimchi, and ice creams made in the kitchen. Nothing needs to be plated as explanation when the technique is already doing the work.

The small-plate format keeps the station alert. A steamed wild-mushroom ravioli sits in Tom Kha bouillon, so the dough, filling, and broth have to arrive with the same timing. Pork belly confit takes lacquer, pak choi, pumpkin, and jasmine rice; the glaze must cling without turning heavy. Crispy caramelized chicken with cashews depends on crunch holding against soy, while kimchi onigiri ravioli folds a rice-shop idea into a pasta gesture. Elsewhere the pantry stretches into XO sauce, satay, yuzukosho, hoisin, tonkatsu mayo, miso caramel, matcha, and lemongrass. The pleasure is not in naming countries. It is in making the pass hold acidity, heat, fat, and sweetness without letting any one of them take the room.

The counter in the 10th

The room is small, warm-lit, and crowded in the way a good bistro becomes crowded: coats close to chair backs, plates landing in clusters, voices rising as the table decides what to cut in half and what not to share. Brigade du Tigre sits in the 10th Arrondissement, near the Paris appetite for food that can be serious without asking for ceremony. The atmosphere suits the menu. Small plates need motion, and this room gives them that.

At the pass, the cadence is less fine-dining hush than controlled pressure. A bowl of bouillon moves differently from fried chicken; a lacquered piece of pork has a shorter window than a cold tartare. The wine program answers that same range with a curated list that can take spice, smoke, and sweetness in turn. At Brigade du Tigre, the kimchi onigiri ravioli explains the house most cleanly.