A plain oak room in the eleventh, pouring wine made by hand and cooking whatever the morning market gives us.
The market writes the menu. We just keep up.
Buy well, waste little, season with restraint. The growers do the difficult part long before the produce reaches us, so the kitchen learns when to stop.
Septime keeps no secrets. The room is raw oak and bare plaster, the lights stay low, and the day is decided at the morning market rather than on a printed card. We pour wine made by hand, from growers who farm without correction, and we cook around it instead of over it.
The day is set at dawn
There is no fixed card. We walk the market early, buy what is ready, and the menu follows. By the time the room fills, the day has already chosen itself.
Wine made by hand
Our cellar is built from growers who farm without chemistry and bottle without correction. The wines move and surprise. We pour them by the glass so the table can wander.
Living wines, poured by the glass, so the table can keep moving.
Loire chenin, skin contact
Dry and faintly tannic, left on the skins a fortnight. Quince, beeswax and a saline finish.
EUR11Jura savagnin, under flor
Aged without topping up the barrel. Walnut, green apple and a long nutty pull on the close.
EUR13Beaujolais gamay, whole bunch
Light, cold and bright. Crushed cherry and pepper, with almost nothing added in the cellar.
EUR10Auvergne pet nat, pink
Bottled before the ferment finished, so it keeps a soft fizz. Wild strawberry and a dry edge.
EUR12Roussillon grenache, old vines
Warm and unforced, from vines older than the grower. Dried fig, garrigue and warm stone.
EUR14Alsace pinot gris, no sulphur
Nothing added at bottling. Pear, smoke and a wild streak that settles after a few minutes open.
EUR12Oak, plaster, low light.
The cooking is so unforced it almost hides how good it is. The wine list reads like a love letter to small farms.
A few tables are open. The rest is up to the market.