The Druid of Paris

It’s early morning near the Champs-Élysées in Paris, and celebrated French chef Yannick Alléno awaits a man known across Paris’s finest dining rooms. The door of the regal 19th-century restaurant creaks open, and a twinkle sparks in the famous chef’s eyes. Enter a man in humble attire—sandals, shoulder-length hair, and a long gray beard framing his stoic face. In his hands, a wide wicker basket brims with rare wild herbs. Alléno eagerly sorts through the foraged treasures, hungry to discover the morning’s gifts from Mother Nature.

Stéphane Meyer is the forager behind the basket of botanical gems. His deep knowledge of wild plants has made him a sought-after figure among France’s most prestigious restaurants—his harvests gracing the tables of European nobility, including Prince Albert of Monaco.

Much like the druids of ancient Gaul—once the heart of Western Europe under the Roman Empire—Meyer shares a near-mystical connection with the plants he gathers and the land they grow on. As with the few remaining wild plant foragers in France, his knowledge isn’t taught in institutions, but passed down through generations, from master to disciple.

From untamed beginnings

Meyer studied oenology for seven years, having grown up in a family of winemakers in Voiteur—a small village in France’s Jura region, renowned for its distinctive wines. “I never received formal training to become a gatherer,” he explains. “In my family, we foraged wild plants for our own use. My parents have always been deeply connected to the land, so that curiosity was naturally passed on to me.”

In 1995, Meyer crossed paths with Gérard Ducerf, a revered European botanist admired by students eager to learn from him. Recognizing something unique in Meyer, Ducerf chose to take him on as a protégé. “At the time, I didn’t know much,” Meyer recalls. “He took me under his wing and taught me the trade.” Today, Meyer can identify between 3,000 to 4,000 plant species. “We shared a very strong bond.”

Meyer’s sharp intuition and rapid mastery of the craft soon earned Ducerf’s trust to carry on the work of finding rare wild plants for medicinal purposes. As word of his talents spread, Meyer began to build a reputation of his own. Enamored by his uncanny ability to unearth herbs that would alchemise fine cuisine, journalists and chefs began calling him the “Druid of Paris.”

Secrets from the wild gatherer

“Plants touch me as deeply as people do. They’re intelligent forms of life,” says Meyer, a founding member of the French Association of Professional Wild Plant Gatherers (AFC). “Wild plants carry a message and an energy that is stronger than farm-grown plants. They don’t grow just by chance. They grow in response to the needs of the land. In nature, there’s always a reason why certain plants thrive or vanish in a given place.”

His mentor, Ducerf, advocates a holistic approach that emphasizes the symbiosis between plants and the land they inhabit. This philosophy mirrors the druids’ interconnected view of life, contrasting sharply with the fragmented perspective of modern thinking. Meyer explains that plants grow and perish to serve the land through its various life cycles. In some instances, these plants can heal the land the same way they cure people.
“For example, the dandelion appears in fields where the soil has been overexposed to animal feces or excessive fertilizer. The land becomes contaminated, and the dandelion works to detoxify it,” Meyer explains. He points out that this healing effect extends to humans as well. “The dandelion serves as a detoxifier when people consume too much food or drink.”

Another example is Meyer’s favorite plant, Achillea millefolium, named after the mythical warrior Achilles. “Legend has it that Achilles used it to heal his soldiers, as it prevents hemorrhaging. Much like a human being, when the soil is turned over, the land’s ‘skin’ is exposed. The plant grows when the soil is disturbed. It prevents erosion, stabilizing the earth so that water or wind can’t wash it away. Once the soil is stabilized, the plant disappears.”

Rooted in the ancient wisdom of the East

“When gathering plants was the main focus of my work, I could spend six to eight months collecting. Now, with kids, I only go for about a month, and I try to bring them along. They pick plants too, and they take it very seriously.” A smile cracks over his lips as he recalls his daughter, Appolline, and son, Augustin, exploring the hillsides with him.

Meyer’s wife, Isabelle, also joins in their adventures. The two met over ten years ago while both practicing the ancient Buddhist school of meditation called Falun Dafa (or Falun Gong). For Meyer, spirituality has always been an intrinsic part of his life since a young age, and the principles of Falun Dafa—Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance—resonated deeply within him, aligning him with the underlying force of unity in the universe.

In the act of gathering plants, Meyer finds a natural synergy with this practice from the Far East. “Falun Dafa creates a state of emptiness, a mental clarity that allows me to be present in the moment,” he reflects. Through cultivating these virtues, Meyer has learned the art of presence—letting go of expectations and allowing the plants to guide him. It’s as if the land speaks, and he listens attentively.

In this space of clarity, Meyer’s bond with the plants flourishes, as does his understanding of the clients’ needs. “The practice teaches me to step into another’s shoes, to find something they’ll deeply appreciate.“ Just as the soil nurtures the seed, Meyer’s cultivated soul fosters deep bonds with those who seek his work.

A basket of wonders to prestigious chefs

“At first, I would offer chefs seasonal plants, but soon they began asking me what I would add to a meal. Since I’m familiar with the aroma of various plants, I can suggest ingredients that either create a contrast of flavors or enhance harmony in a dish. And I rarely make mistakes,” he says with a humble smile, explaining why renowned chefs and restaurateurs like Pascal Barbot of L’Astrance and Alain Passard of L’Arpège turn to him for advice.

Meyer has another nickname: “Santa Claus,” bestowed upon him by Yannick Alléno. “My long beard might play a role, but it’s really about the gifts. I arrive with a basket full of surprises. Chefs are incredibly busy, and they rarely have time to step out of the city. I bring them a breath of fresh air. You should see their faces when I bring wild plants they’ve never encountered before. Their eyes sparkle!”

Meyer, whose craft is rooted in a mystical connection with the wild, goes beyond simply delivering wild plants. Princes and princesses alike deeply appreciate Meyer’s magical touch. “I received a phone call from the ambassador of Morocco because one Moroccan princess drank one of the herb teas I created. She wanted more.” He now creates various product lines, from natural skin care to fine liquor, all popular among the European and Mediterranean elite. “Prince Albert of Monaco, for his birthday, received a bottle of fine liquor that I produced. He truly enjoyed it, savoring it on different occasions.”