If you want to see—or, if you’re old enough, to remember—what dining out looked like before the wall dividing high and low came tumbling down, book a table at this bastion of old-school. That suited guy at the host stand? That’s maître d’ Adnane Kebaier, one of the last of the breed. His tables are bathed in a buttery light, laid with military-crisp white cloth, and attended by a staff that knows how to pamper without slipping into obsequiousness.
The cooking extends the fantasy. The best of chef Robert Wiedmaier’s plates, such as a silken boudin blanc, are painstakingly built, and if there’s little in the way of experimentation, few kitchens are more consistent or more rewarding of your investment. Swipe a slice of duck breast through its rich wine reduction and you won’t be pining for novelty or flash—you’ll be thinking there’s a reason some things endure.
Open: Daily for dinner.
Don’t miss: Beet-and-goat-cheese trio; cold-smoked black cod; brandade fritter; crispy skate wing; Dover-sole roulade; bison strip loin; blood-orange brûlée napoleon.