130 Tenth Avenue at West 18th Street
his husband-and-wife-owned French restaurant is located on a non-descript corner on the far reaches of West Chelsea. If you didn't know it was there, you'd likely walk right past it as I have for several years. Although, if it's one of those days where you're in the mood to "smell the roses," so to speak, you might notice a little chalkboard perched on a window that is scrawled with specials du jour like terrine de foie gras and cassoulet. In which case, go inside.
It was on the night of a blustery snowstorm that I blew right into this restaurant's entrance looking for shelter and a hot meal. I ordered the boeuf bourguignon, which was the only thing that should be ordered on such a night, and it arrived to the table looking like a still life fit for Cézanne. It was hearty and delicious and served with lovely boiled potatoes and haricots verts on the side. I washed it all down with a glass of red wine.
Paris in New York.