Paris in the City

The only somewhat disappointing main course was the almond-crusted barramundi ($18), a white-fleshed fish served with a rich lobster reduction. Classically this sauce would be paired with the now-overfished monkfish, nicknamed "the lobster of the poor," whose firm texture would have better served it than the too-soft, rather characterless barramundi. However, we loved its base of thin-sliced king trumpet mushrooms. All six of the different sauces we'd tasted at the restaurant reminded us that sauces are indeed the glory of the French kitchen.

We sampled a couple of successful classic desserts — a spiced fresh pear tarte tatin and an individual flourless chocolate cake, liquid at its heart, in raspberry sauce, adorned with sliced strawberries. One night's special, thin-sliced fresh peaches in Muscat served with a crisp plain cookie, needed something to make it a bit more special. We most enjoyed finishing our meal with a cheese plate, which we weren't offered on our first visit, but noticed on a framed ardoise as we exited. Among the four all-French varieties listed were Brie, Roquefort, and a goat cheese. The same cheeses were chalked there on our return, but our server consulted a little paper and told us we would receive, among others, Camembert and Petit Robert. In the event, on a plate of lettuce strewn with grapes, we got Petit Basque, Pont L'Evêque, an ash-coated pyramide goat cheese, and Époisses, a stinky cheese that is one of our favorites: that night it was within hours of becoming too strong to enjoy.

But enjoy it we did, with the remains of a glass of Burgundy ($11) from the unexpectedly long (two densely printed pages), mostly French, fairly reasonable wine list, which was a little light and pricey on the offerings by the glass. Another glass of wine and we would have kissed chef Thierry Clement for his coq au vin alone.