Sharp-Edged

Le Nemours, with its pillared portico and sought-after terrace, still active in winter thanks to gas-powered heat lamps capable of singing the hair of those who sheltered beneath them, had a roster of faithful clients from the neighbouring Conseil d’Etat – stern-faced and grey-suited civil servants – and Comédie Française – exuberant and eccentrically dressed actors. But it had none of the pretensions of the establishments that campaigned for years to convince the Michelin guide to crown them with stars. Rather than striving for the gastronomic heights it focused on serving up a decent croque monsieur. As such, it was not the kind of establishment Sylvie Thomas would usually frequent at lunchtime.