Reyna: The Must-Try Filipino Restaurant in Paris
Paris does something to you. You settle into a rhythm of butter, wine, bread (cigarettes?). Repeat. It’s incredible. It’s also…a lot. By day four or five, I needed something else. Something bright. Spicy. Acidic. Food that wakes you up instead of putting you into a happy coma.
To be fair, I did also grab one of the best smash burgers I’ve ever had at Dumbo. Worth it. Not exactly THAT different from the steak frites diet I was living off of. I stayed loyal to the classics. Until I couldn’t anymore.
That’s when Reyna kept coming up. Not from guides. Not from TikTok. From locals. The kind of people who roll their eyes at tourist lists and still said, “No, go there.” I didn’t know much beyond that it was supposed to be fantastic, and better yet, different. When I walked in, it made sense. Long communal tables running through the room. Built for sharing. Built for strangers to sit close and figure it out together.
It didn’t feel like Paris. Not in the way I had gotten used to, at least. No dim lighting bouncing off old mirrors. No quiet clinking of glasses in some century-old room. Reyna felt bright. Clean. Open. Not sterile, just…modern. In a city that leans hard into its history, Reyna doesn’t try to compete with it. It just exists beside it.
The room was already full. Not packed shoulder to shoulder, but close. Enough noise to feel alive. People talking across tables, not just within them. You could feel it right away. This wasn’t a place you sit quietly and analyse your food. The table beside me were sharing and picking at an entire pig’s head.
We got seated quickly. Close to other people. No real separation. The server came over fast. No script. No stiffness. Just easy and friendly. The menu didn’t slow things down. It did the opposite. It moved you forward. Short descriptions. Things that sounded familiar, but not really. Hainan burrata. Kinilaw. Fried chicken in different sauces.
Ordering felt loose. Not strategic. No thinking about apps, mains, desserts. Just picking things that sounded good and trusting it would work out. And it did. Like every time, the server had to triple-check that I really wanted to order that much food as a solo diner. I did.
The menu changes a lot. Sometimes daily. So you don’t really go for one specific dish. You go for the style. The flavour. We ordered a mix. A bit of what the server suggested, a bit of what just sounded too interesting to pass up.
There’s usually some version of their fried chicken. That’s the one everyone talks about. And it makes sense. Ours came in the form of rotating wings. Two in a bowl. Covered in sauce.
We went with the hot. It showed up looking threateningly red. First bite. Sweet. Then smoky. Then heat. Real heat. I paused. Thought about it. Took another bite anyway. It tasted too good not to. So I just…kept going. Fully aware I was going to regret it a bit. Fully okay with that.
We also had dishes that felt more balanced, but still interesting. Things like kinilaw. Think ceviche, but sharper. Brighter. Citrus hitting first. There’s usually something like the Hainan burrata. Which sounds strange. It kind of is. But it works. Creamy cheese, paired with sauces that cut through it. Salty, tangy, a bit sweet. It shouldn’t make sense, but it does once you eat it. Other plates leaned into comfort. Pork belly. Eggplant dishes. Things with coconut, chili, sauces that cling to everything. Rich, but not in the same way as French food. Less butter.
Drinks followed the same idea. Natural wines, mostly. Nothing too complicated. A bit funky. A bit unexpected. Again, different than “regular” Paris. This isn’t the kind of place where you analyse pairings. You sip, you eat, you talk. And that’s the thing. The food is good. Really good. But it’s not trying to stand alone on a pedestal. It’s built into everything else happening around you.
If you’re in Paris for a quick weekend, maybe stick to the classics. The smoke-filled patios, the bakeries, the French bistros. That’s part of the trip. But if you’re there longer, and you start to feel it a bit. The repetition. The richness. That quiet craving for something different. I’d absolutely recommend Reyna. Go with people. Order a lot. Try the wings.
Just be ready for the heat.
AUTHOR: Hogan short
Follow me on Beli and see my ranked lists in every city I’ve been to!
Follow me on Instagram and see other stuff I get up to!
For more food stories like this, check out our weekly newsletter.
