This is a dining room set for romance, with dim lighting, soft drapery and the gold-tinged opulence of a grande French brasserie. There are couples seated one after the other along the burgundy banquette, speaking in hushed tones over glasses of bourgogne.

Interruptions are few – a family singing over candlelit cake, a waiter’s gentle check-in, and the timely delivery of dishes from the open kitchen. Maybe they opted for the mafaldine to start, served al dente with a light pork neck ragout and the satisfying crackle of whisper-thin guanciale. Or maybe the escargots topping focaccia, shimmering with garlic butter. Both could use more attention to detail, but the brief is sound, swinging from showy extravagance (caviar, seafood towers) to classic bistro fare (glossy coq au vin) and then homing in on steak, char-grilled over the Josper, and served with a carnivorous flourish of bone marrow butter.

Good to know: Book on a Monday night for bottomless frites.

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