In Paris, a Filipina chef is cooking up mischief
In Paris, something mischievous is taking shape. Three years after launching Reyna, her first dedicated restaurant, Filipina chef Erica Paredes has unveiled her latest venture. Set on Rue Gravilliers, a lively stretch in the heart of Le Marais, Mischief has opened its doors.
The queen of mischief
Paredes’ journey in the French capital began humbly, hosting intimate supper clubs out of her apartment. Word spread quickly, and soon, a seat at her table became difficult to come by. Those evenings laid the foundation for all that would follow.
From the outset, she draws a clear line between the two concepts. At Reyna, her cooking is deeply rooted in her upbringing, an exploration of flavors and nuances that celebrate her heritage. “I always say that Reyna is for my culture,” she says.
In turn, Mischief sets off in a different direction—signaling the next stage in her evolution as a Filipina chef in Paris.
“When you say ‘mischief,’ it reminds you of a little kid,” she says. “Kids do naughty things that aren’t truly bad, but they might be thinking, ‘Okay, how far can I take this?’” Carrying that energy forward, Paredes dares to serve dishes that feel slightly off-center. Yet despite her free-spirited nature, her experience in fine dining and respect for technique keep her anchored.
Of contrasts and contradictions
This balance defines Mischief, which, for Paredes, is as much a playground as it is a restaurant. She describes herself as “full of contrasts and contradictions,” a chef who thrives on the push and pull between freedom and discipline. And although she continues to infuse Southeast Asian influences into her work, the menu resists being bound to any single region or cuisine. Instead, it revolves around indulgence—and the joy that follows.
Consider the polenta fries that took more than 30 hours to make. A playful nod to Paredes’ lifelong love of Cheetos, they arrive coated in a house-made vintage cheddar powder, then finished with a generous drizzle of ranch. Next are the esquites—Mexican street corn off the cob—reimagined with a trout aburi that lends a smoky counterpoint to the corn’s natural sweetness.
“My cooking is very layered,” she explains. “And I like to experiment with texture.”
That same propensity for contrasts carries into the restaurant’s interiors, where earthy meets industrial and vibrant balances muted.
A nod to ’90s nostalgia
Her teenage years in the ’90s informed much of what she now considers good, indulgent food. “Nostalgia plays such a huge factor in my creative process,” she says.
On the launch menu, SpaghettiOs make a surprise appearance, infused with Paredes’ signature mix of humor and refinement. The canned, ring-shaped pasta, long a staple in American households, was a childhood favorite—one she later passed on to her daughter. At Mischief, the dish takes on a new life: handmade and served in a tomato-based sauce enriched with bone marrow and anchovy.
That same instinct for personal expression comes through vividly in her pressé d’agneau—pressed lamb, as the French call it. Inspired by her love of Vietnamese cuisine and the comfort of a steaming bowl of pho, it brings warmth to the table.
And for anyone with room for dessert, Paredes serves a peach mango cobbler—her lighthearted twist on Jollibee’s iconic peach mango pie.
To complete the experience—and in keeping with local custom—a thoughtful selection of natural wines is always on hand.
Unserious dishes, done seriously
At Mischief, Paredes embraces an emotion too often overlooked: fun. “I tell my team, ‘Here, we do unserious dishes seriously,’” she says. It’s this youthful, brazen energy that she channels into her food—and, by extension, to her guests.
Despite her hard-won confidence, Paredes once wrestled with questions of identity. In the early days of her solo career, she faced a familiar dilemma. “Filipinos will think it’s not Filipino enough. And French people will think it’s not exotic enough,” she recalls.
Today, she speaks of a slow but steady shift within herself—free at last from the need to prove anything. “With Mischief, I’m cooking for myself,” she says. “This is me as Erica.”
