OUI, OUI SANDO!

City lights, wet pavement. Warm bread, soft from the pan. One warm bite, and summer settles in the city. No passport needed. Pick a window seat in your own afternoon. Order at the bar or book here in advance. Two great food cultures, France and Japan, have spent a long time quietly admiring each other across the table. The French croquette traveled the world and became korokke; the sandwiches became sando. Each culture borrowed, each reinterpreted, each grew bolder for having met the other.

OUI, OUI SANDO lives in that exchange. We take a few now-Japanese classics and add a little French accent, like a mimolette shaving where you least expect it. We are presenting you three sando, built on that long conversation. Here is how they taste:

Black Sesame Mochi

Soft as a held breath, cool to the touch. Bite through, and black sesame spills out, dark and toasted, faintly sweet. Flower petals resting on top, light as an afterthought. Nothing rushed. Nothing loud. The quiet last note, summer fading slow on the tongue.

OUI, OUI SANDO!

City lights, wet pavement. Warm bread, soft from the pan. One warm bite, and summer settles in the city. No passport needed. Pick a window seat in your own afternoon. Order at the bar or book here in advance. Two great food cultures, France and Japan, have spent a long time quietly admiring each other across the table. The French croquette traveled the world and became korokke; the sandwiches became sando. Each culture borrowed, each reinterpreted, each grew bolder for having met the other.

OUI, OUI SANDO lives in that exchange. We take a few now-Japanese classics and add a little French accent, like a mimolette shaving where you least expect it. We are presenting you three sando, built on that long conversation. Here is how they taste:

Korokke

Golden and crisp, a knock before the give. Inside: potato gone soft, comté melting quiet, kimchi with a low warm hum. Tonkatsu sauce, dark and sweet. Lime-ginger mayo, bright and sharp. Sesame, scallions, a scatter of green. The first bite of the trip, still warm from the fryer.

Cucumber Salad

Smashed, not sliced. Cool and loud and green. Chilli oil leaves a slow red heat behind. Tahina and miso, deep and nutty underneath. Coriander on top, fresh as an open window. Crunch that wakes the whole table up.

Edamame

The easy yes. The thing your hands reach for first. Bright green pods, a little salt, a little steam. Soy dipping sauce, dark and quiet on the side. Nothing to prove. Nowhere to be. Just slow down, and pop them one by one.

OUI, OUI SANDO!

City lights, wet pavement. Warm bread, soft from the pan. One warm bite, and summer settles in the city. No passport needed. Pick a window seat in your own afternoon. Order at the bar or book here in advance. Two great food cultures, France and Japan, have spent a long time quietly admiring each other across the table. The French croquette traveled the world and became korokke; the sandwiches became sando. Each culture borrowed, each reinterpreted, each grew bolder for having met the other.

OUI, OUI SANDO lives in that exchange. We take a few now-Japanese classics and add a little French accent, like a mimolette shaving where you least expect it. We are presenting you three sando, built on that long conversation. Here is how they taste:

Egg Sando
Soft milk bread, pillow-pale. Inside: a hush of egg, a yolk just barely awake. Yuzu kosho leaves a citrus-pepper whisper. Chives, the green afterthought. Comfort, sliced clean down the middle.

Sardine Sando
The sea arrives first. Sardine, deep and silver, calmed by parsley, salted by olives. Wasabi opens a small bright window. Mimolette drifts down in orange shavings, a French snowfall over a Japanese tide. Bold, briny, unforgettable.

Chicken Katsu Sando
The crunch you hear before the taste. Golden katsu, still whispering of the fryer. Tonkatsu sauce, sweet and dark, slow as dusk. Cabbage slaw, cool and quiet underneath. The bite everyone reaches for twice.