In the lounge, it's Le Cirque in blue jeans.

151 E. 58th St. (between Lexington and Third Aves)
(212) 644-0202
Dinner, Mon.-Sat., 5:30-11 p.m.; lunch, 11:45 a.m.-3 p.m.
CUISINE Modern French
VIBE Elegant institution
OCCASION Business lunch, romantic date, family affair
DON'T-MISS DISHES Tuna with avocado tapenade, duck and green-mango salad, crème brûlée.
AVERAGE PRICE Cafe prix fixe, $35; appetizers/entrées, $17; dessert, $12.
RESERVATIONS Accepted but not necessary.

I wore jeans to Le Cirque. My friend wore jeans and sneakers, and they didn't throw us out.

I felt a little guilty, but no one winced at us. Not even Sirio Maccioni, who still runs the show. What's Le Cirque without Sirio — the man who wrote the playbook on working the dining room and keeping the rich and famous happy?

But these days, Sirio runs the show from a table near the door. Across from Sirio's up-front office is a pop-up bookshop where you can buy a copy of the Le Cirque cookbook, "Sirio: The Story of My Life and Le Cirque" (the English or Italian version), and Barbarba Walter's memoir, "Audition." And just this past December, HBO produced a documentary called "Le Cirque: A Table in Heaven." The DVD can be purchased on Le Cirque's Web site, but the documentary really tells the story of the old Le Cirque.

I ate dinner at a new Le Cirque. It is no longer a restaurant. It's a relic, really, the original, iconic supper club.

Other restaurants have achieved institution status — the Four Seasons, the '21' Club and the Rainbow Room. But none are invulnerable to time and the shifting economy. The '21' Club loosened its tie policy, the Four Seasons swallowed its pride with a $59 anniversary menu, and who knows what's to become of the Rainbow Room.

Then there's Le Cirque. There's still a jacket policy — tie optional — in the dining room, still silver sneeze lids over the plates, tableside theatrics and a $92 prix-fixe menu. And there's still a secret menu that only members know about — Dover sole, pasta primavera, and roasted chicken for two.

About a year ago, the Maccioni family turned the cafe into a lounge where can you kick back in your sneakers and order a glass of wine and mini-cheeseburgers. (There's also a $35 prix-fixe menu.)

Sirio's sons — Mauro and Marco — are the new welcoming committee. And there's young blood in the kitchen too — Craig Hopson, who worked at Picholine and One If by Land, Two If by Sea.

What's so great about the lounge is that you can get so many of the dishes that are also served in the dining room. Those are the ones you want to order.

The best is the tuna — smoky ribbons of sashimi layered with fresh clementine, sesame tuile and an unexpected jolt of avocado tapenade that tastes like fancy guacamole. Another good crossover dish is the sautéed shrimp with cilantro, kaffir lime and carrot confit.

But some of the lounge-only dishes are no slouches. Like the pavé of veal breast — braised, breaded and served with a coffee-cardamom jus, roasted pear and wisp of pecorino. The duck and green-mango salad is a lounge-only dish, too — an excellent mix of duck confit, duck cracklings, puffed rice and shredded mango in a lime vinaigrette.

But how do you mess up fried calamari or chicken paillard or lobster consommé?

Somehow, Hopson manages to, which is odd considering his résumé.

The dessert menu is the same in the dining room and the lounge, but all you need to know is this: Le Cirque makes the best crème brûlée in the city. And the recipe's right there on the dish.

I also love the millefeuille, but skip the pineapple carpaccio with a gritty lemongrass sorbet and the ginger panna cotta.

Oh, by the way, don't try the jeans-and-sneakers bit in the main dining room. It only works in the cafe.

Brunch is more like it at Bar Breton.

254 Fifth Ave., near 29th St. (212) 213-4999.
Dinner: Sun.-Thu., 4 p.m.-11 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 4 p.m.-midnight;
brunch: Sat.-Sun., 10 a.m.- 4 p.m.
CUISINE: Casual French bistro
VIBE: A bit like home
OCCASION: Brunch, casual date
DON'T MISS DISH: Croquettes de bacalao, Chelsea buckwheat galette, Mont Saint-Michel galette, Red Eye cocktail
PRICE: Appetizers $11; entrees $21; desserts $7
RESERVATIONS: Accepted

I think Bar Breton should change its name to Brunch Breton. Even Breakfast Breton would make more sense. Because the best dishes on the dinner menu are items you'd order for breakfast.

Cyril Renaud, the chef and owner of this new restaurant on Fifth Ave. near 28th St., is from Brittany - or, as the French say, Breton.

And Brittany is famous for its galettes. Galettes Breton aren't dainty or delicate crepes. They're not wafer-thin platforms - edible plates - piled with strawberries or slathered with Nutella, honey or chocolate.

What sets them apart from traditional, white-flour crepes is that galettes Breton are made with buckwheat flour. Unlike refined wheat flour, buckwheat flour, ground from buckwheat seeds, tastes bold and slightly bitter, with a dark whisper of mushroom. And this makes galette an entirely different and better beast altogether.

At Bar Breton, all the savory galettes are good. Take the Mont Saint-Michel. It's a warm galette layered with nicely charred slabs of ham, Gruyère and a sunnyside up egg.

My favorite is the Chelsea galette - smoky shreds of chorizo, sweet onion confit and an over-easy egg - which is only served for breakfast. This is unfortunate, because it's one of the best dishes at Bar Breton.

The only dish that really stands out on the dinner menu is the croquettes de bacalao, ping-pong balls of salt-cured cod bound together by a bechamel-like sauce and served with rosemary aioli. As for the rest, the seared scallops bored me to tears, as did the black sea bass and a dried-out duck-leg confit salad. Even the burger was a bore.

This is surprising when you consider that the chef earned a Michelin star at his first restaurant, Fleur de Sel, an upscale French restaurant just down the street from Bar Breton. (Sadly, Renaud has just announced that Fleur de Sel will close at the end of the month.)

We all love the idea of eating brunch at home. Bar Breton is so homey that the only thing missing is your bedroom right next door. There's a faux fireplace, mismatched chairs and an enormous cupboard filled with teapots, teacups and ceramic pitchers that servers dip into frequently. In the back dining room hangs a cluster of black-and-white photos of Renaud's family taken from the 1920s.

I trust a Frenchman's taste in pastries, and Renaud goes straight to the source, importing his croissants and pain du chocolat from Brittany. And I'm learning to trust a Frenchman's taste in morning cocktails. Before Bar Breton, I'd never had brunch in a mug. Order the Red Eye and out comes a mug full of freshly pureed tomato juice, vodka, horseradish and a swizzle stick of bacon. Bobbing in its midst is a barely poached egg dusted in smoked Spanish paprika.

Or try Denise's Bloody Mary. I'm not sure who Denise is, but she must be a hell of a woman. She drinks her Bloody Marys with house-infused lime tequila, sardines en escabeche and cornichons. How does it taste? Odd and oddly excellent, especially on a roll-out-of-bed Sunday afternoon.

46 W. 22nd St., between Fifth and Sixth Aves. (212) 206-0555 5 p.m.-11 p.m.

CUISINE Southern French
VIBE Think yacht chic
OCCASION First date, group dinner, business lunch
DON'T-MISS DISH Heirloom tomato salad, seared dorade, chocolate fondant
PRICE Appetizers, $15; entrees, $26; dessert, $10
RESERVATIONS: Recommended
Capsule: You'll want to become a regular at Allegretti.

Allegretti is growing on me. And that very fact demonstrates one of the few drawbacks of being a restaurant critic. I don't get to be a regular anywhere.

What could be better than a restaurant where you don't even have to order, where the server already knows how you like your steak and martini? (Ice-cold vodka in a martini glass, please. Olives on the side.) There's a lot of pleasure in trying a new dish every night, but there's something to be said for eating the same thing over and over again. In a place you can count on.

Allegretti might just be that kind of place. Not everything on the menu could be my regular dish. But the Niçois ravioli could. You'd think ravioli stuffed with braised oxtail and swiss chard would be too wintry for a summer's night, but it isn't. If this were my regular dish, I'd be looking forward to the moment when I found myself thinking about the beef jus spooned over the ravioli. But it isn't just the jus that makes this dish. It's the toasted pignoli. The thick shavings of parmesan. And best of all, the threads of candied orange peel and glazed swiss chard stems. This Niçois ravioli is upscale, yet accessible. That's Allegretti in a nutshell.

The not-so-fine art of fine French dining.
60 W. 55th St., between Fifth & Sixth Aves., (646) 943-7373.
Seven days a week. Breakfast, Mon.-Fri., 7:30 a.m.-10 p.m.; lunch, Mon.-Sat., 11:45 a.m.-2:30 p.m.; dinner, Mon.-Sun., 5:30-11 p.m.
CUISINE French bistro.
VIBE Elegant midtown bistro.
OCCASION Group dining, business lunch.
DON'T-MISS DISH Cassoulet, onion soup gratinee, escargots.
PRICE Appetizers, $9-$19; entrees, $19-$48; dessert, $7-18.
RESERVATIONS Recommended.

No one expects humble from Alain Ducasse. But that's what you get at Benoit. There's even a dollar menu. It has one dish: Egg Mayo, a terrific deviled egg with a fluffy, sweet filling. It makes for a glorious, four-bite lunch.

Ducasse now runs three Benoits - the original Paris bistro (which opened in 1912), another in Tokyo and the newest, at 60 W. 55th St., the address of the old Le Cote Basque.

A lot of menus honor the lineage of their ingredients - they tell you you're eating Berkshire pork or Satur Farms lettuce. Or they tell you what the ingredients ate for dinner - milk-fed poularde or grass-fed beef. But at Benoit, the menu honors the tradition of bistro cooking.

So what does tradition taste like? Sometimes it tastes like an iconic French onion soup - a thick, Gruyere cheese-berg collapsing into a complex, oxtail-beef broth. Sometimes it tastes like savory escargots, topped with croutons, in a parsley-flecked garlic butter that's well worth sopping up. And sometimes it tastes like a decadent tarte tatin with dewy chunks of apples.

Perhaps the most traditional dish on the menu is the cassoulet, borrowed from a J.J. Rachou recipe. There's a kind of restorative modesty about this dish - white beans disintegrating over subtly sweet sausage, pork loin and a hulking duck leg.

Sadly, at Benoit tradition also tastes like cold, lifeless French fries or poached asparagus in a vapid vinaigrette. Two servers carry a roasted chicken intact to the table. They whisk it back to the kitchen to be carved. Out it comes again, disassembled and flaccid.

The banquettes are bright red, the mirrors are arched, the ceiling is a trompe l'oeil sky, and the room is lit with sconces from the old Le Cote Basque. The menu is poster-sized - a poster with an amusing picture of a rotund French chef plucking a rooster - and the room is decorated with whimsical oval caricatures.

But when it comes to Alain Ducasse, you have to take his intentions seriously. At Benoit, his intent is to preserve, perhaps curate, authentic bistro food. And the menu is full of bistro classics, such as duck a l'orange, quenelles de brochet and a charcuterie selection that could feed a family of five.

This isn't food that's meant to spotlight the chef. This is food that ought to transcend a chef's ego, something Ducasse acknowledges by giving credit to J.J. Rachou's brasserie and the famous Parisian bistro L'ami Louis. The trouble is that the food itself simply isn't transcendent. You can find excellent bistro food all over New York in a less formal atmosphere.

When I think of Ducasse doing bistro, I imagine vivid flavors, complexity, history. But at Benoit I also found myself imagining something less exalted. I imagined fries that were hot and crispy when they came to the table. I imagined steak tartare that was something more than damp. I imagined I wasn't eating the world's most boring salad - the Parisian version of a chef's salad.

Here's my advice: Stick with humble. Have a glass of red wine and the dollar Egg Mayo at the black-and-white bar.

"It's shocking," a diner at Pomme de Terre said one night. "I've lived down the street for 20 years. A few months ago this was a seedy bodega that dealt drugs."

Now that seedy bodega in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn, is a charming corner bistro near a laundromat, a CVS pharmacy and a few takeout spots — a culinary nowhere along Newkirk Ave. This snug 40-seat space is appointed with vibrant murals that resemble vintage French posters. The original tin-ceiling remains, newly restored and painted over in a sunny yellow. Through large curtained windows, I saw patrons of every age waiting along the sidewalk. From the expressions on diners' faces, the neighborhood seems thrilled with the dizzying transformation.

So are co-owners Gary Jonas and Allison McDowell, who are residents of Ditmas Park themselves. They opened their first restaurant — The Farm on Adderley, only five blocks away — two years ago and realized they had tapped into an "underserved market." Underserved is an understatement. Pomme de Terre, the couple's second endeavor, is a joint venture with another Ditmas Park resident and restaurateur, Jim Mamary, who turned Smith St., which once resembled Newkirk Ave., into the culinary hot spot it is now.

The authentic French menu is the collaborative effort of chefs David Pitula (Aquavit, The Hideaway) and Tom Kearney, who also oversees the kitchen at The Farm on Adderley, where he developed a following for his American cooking and beloved twice-cooked fries. They serve the same, supercrispy fries at Pomme de Terre, but here they're accompanied by homemade ketchup and a finely charred steak. This is exquisitely executed bistro fare served in an unsettled restaurant frontier.

I ordered the steamed mussels, which arrived in an intoxicating, bright-green broth of basil, shallots and white wine. I loved an appetizer of crispy squid, defiantly greaseless and paired with a tangy lemon aioli. A moist branzino comes whole and stuffed with a fistful of fennel, lemon and dried tomatoes. And there is a first-rate croque-monsieur stacked with gooey Gruyere and paper-thin shavings of ham. But what makes this French staple so distinguished is the brioche, which tastes like a savory rendition of French toast. "I soak it in custard," Pitula confesses. If only I hadn't asked.

"Everything's homemade. Except for the bread," our server told us one evening. The butter that accompanies the baguette is made in-house. So is the chicken liver mousse, the mushroom ravioli, as well as the juicy duck sausage sweetened with currants. The thick, flaky crust on a fingerling potato tart — another homemade wonder — nearly overshadows its warm, soothing filling of potato, leeks and pungent Roquefort. The only disappointments I sampled were an overdressed chicory salad and a napoleon layered with desiccated vegetables in a greasy bric dough wrapper.

"This is dangerous," my dining companion said. We looked down at the remnants of our dessert — a satiny chocolate mousse, a pistachio-cherry tart, and a blood orange tart that, lucky for us, was a special that evening. My favorite was a tarte Tatin with incredibly ripe apples and candied edges.

Pomme de Terre could easily make it anywhere in Manhattan, but for now Manhattanites will have to travel to Ditmas Park.

ADDRESS:2 E. 55th St., at Fifth Ave. (212) 710-2277
DINNER: Mon.-Sat., 5.30 p.m.-11 p.m.; Sun., 5.30 p.m.-10 p.m.
CUISINE: Contemporary French
VIBE: Elegant affair
OCCASION: Fine dining, special occasion
DON'T-MISS DISH: Ricotta gnocchi; diver scallops with black truffles; beef tenderloin.
PRICE: Appetizers, $17-29; entrees, $32-49; desserts, $14.
RESERVATIONS: Required.

In recent years, New York has been the thorn in Alain Ducasse's side. An exalted French chef, Ducasse has amassed an empire of Michelin-starred institutions, including Le Louis XV in Monte Carlo and his eponymous restaurant at Plaza Athénée in Paris. While Ducasse has conquered much of the globe, his first two Manhattan ventures resulted in defeat and subsequently closed (Alain Ducasse at the Essex House, Mix).

Yet he seems more determined than ever to win our affections at Adour, his newest restaurant set in the landmark St. Regis Hotel. What was formerly Lespinasse has been transformed into an elegant showcase for haute French cuisine and an exquisite wine selection. The David Rockwell-designed space is flourished with wine armoires, plush burgundy banquettes, and a glass veil that frames the main dining room.

There is an interesting marriage of an old and new world order of dining with the installment of an interactive wine bar and private wine vault where diners can electronically scroll through the 600-bottle wine list. Sensational choices are an Alsatian Pinot Gris and a full-bodied Roussillon, both refreshingly affordable and available by the glass for $13.

But don't be misled. Dining at Adour is an extravagantly pampered affair. Purses get their own pedestals and the service is so flawless it feels like there's a server for every guest. The food gets the same regal treatment as the patrons. Luscious sautéed foie gras is perfectly modulated by a peppery duck jus and al dente lentils. Though Ducasse is famous for his French cooking, his ricotta gnocchi are on a par with some of the finest Italian restaurants in the city. These exuberantly fresh nibbles melt into a sharp arrangement of dried prosciutto, sautéed lettuce and a bright splash of vinegar.

But no dish surpassed a breathtaking entree of creamy diver scallops, embellished with tender slivers of black truffles, shellfish jus and spinach leaves. It was an exemplary composition that achieved more succulent depth than a relentlessly tough pork tenderloin served with a cranberry-stuffed apple, which tasted like a holiday ham gone terribly awry. For every dish that dazzled, there was another that utterly disappointed. On one visit, an unusually juicy beef tenderloin was presented alongside a mushy sea bass draped with manila and razor clams, devoid of their characteristic brininess.

Pale shades of flavor too often emerged from the pedigreed kitchen, helmed by chef Tony Esnault. Foie gras tapioca ravioli deserved a richer broth than its timid sunchoke consommé. And lobster was an altogether weak point on the menu. Both an overworked lobster thermidor and an unrewarding appetizer of chilled Maine lobster seemed to have lost their nerve.

Desserts ran a similar turbulent course of highs and lows. The "thin chocolate leaf layers" - albeit beautiful - were stacked with dull praline mousse. Instead, opt for a fabulous crème brulée smothered in a raspberry sauce, or a "Contemporary Exotic Vacherin" with a zesty layering of lime gelée, mango marmalade and foamy passionfruit emulsion.

Though some may dispute we're no longer up for fussy French affairs in this decidedly casual dining era, New Yorkers will never tire of talent wherever they can find it. But with a world-renowned chef like Ducasse, more dishes should lodge themselves in our memories than they do at Adour.

Address: 1900 Broadway, near 64th St.
Phone: (212) 595-0303
Dinner: Sun.-Thurs., 5-11 p.m; Fri. & Sat., 5 p.m.- midnight; Lunch: Mon.-Fri., noon-3:30 p.m.
Cuisine: Contemporary French.
Vibe: Bustling wine bar.
Occasion: Charcuterie quest; casual UWS dinner.
Don't Miss Dish: Pate grand-mere; braised flatiron steak.
Price: Appetizers, $8-$18; entrees, $17-$28; desserts, $6-$12.
Reservations: Highly recommended.

Chef Daniel Boulud's new French bistro, which opened across from Lincoln Center, is unlike any other Boulud production. This is the iconic chef's answer to Manhattan's demand for informal wine bars. His talent for producing outstanding French cuisine is matched by equally impeccable service (Daniel, Café Boulud).

At Daniel (his haute flagship), servers glide gracefully through the dining room. At Bar Boulud, they frantically weave through the narrow quarters, crowded with oenophiles, locals and Boulud devotees. Guests swarm the hostess stand; the less desirable front dining room becomes a makeshift waiting area for those eager to feast on charcuterie, displayed in a glass counter that runs the length of the 100-seat space.

As for the charcuterie, there's a stunning roster of pâtés and terrines to be had. Charcutier Sylvain Gasdon delivers exquisitely rich pâtés, stocked with ground pork. The pâté grand-mère gets its rustic sweetness from chicken liver and cognac, while the pâté grand-père gets more opulent seasonings of truffle juice, foie gras and port. The terrines all emerge as savory mosaics that nearly transport you to the countryside of France. Among the stockpiles of charcuterie, my favorite was a juicy truffled sausage laced with pistachio and tucked into a warm brioche.

The wine list proffers a robust and affordable selection of reds by the glass that deftly harness the richness of the charcuterie. Subtle décor gestures, such as white oak tables, limestone floors and a vaulted ceiling are meant to evoke a wine cellar. Though wine plays a prominent role in all aspects of the restaurant, the bistro menu tends to lean too heavily on red wine for flavor. Both a mushroom-stuffed skate and an entree of salmon registered only their heavy-handed sauces of Syrah.

Many of executive chef Damian Sansonetti's classic bistro staples were surprisingly undistinguished. Neither a standard issue steak frites nor an underwhelming coq au vin, scattered with lardons and button mushrooms, was particularly compelling. The escargot was afflicted by a runny persillade (parsley and garlic) and a mismatched tomato garnish. Even a steak tartar, made with topnotch Black Angus sirloin, tasted underseasoned and ordinary.

But Bar Boulud's fancified version of "fish and chips" raises the bar: Silky grouper gets a crispy exterior and an inventive pairing with root vegetable chips. A tangy mustard sauce is the crowning touch on this dynamic plate. An excellent braised flatiron steak is plated over a fluffy carrot mousseline and sweet onion confit. A house-made linguine emerges terrifically light on its feet. It gets a briny sprinkling of razor clams, cuttlefish and olives, then is glossed in a white wine sauce with bright strides of lemon.

Unfortunately, bold flavor combinations and inspired dishes are a rare event. The bustle of the dining room and unreliable service make for an exhausting dining experience. Trying to place an order can feel a bit like hailing a taxi in a thunderstorm. Nonetheless, the charcuterie and terrific wine list alone are worth braving the mobs that are currently descending on the upper West Side eatery. In Daniel Boulud's indisputably talented hands, there's little doubt that Bar Boulud will rise to the occasion.

Address: 71 Spring St., btwn. Crosby & Lafayette Sts.
Phone: 212.966.5050
Cuisine: French-bent global
Vibe: Modern swank
Scene: Euro crowd
Hours: Dinner, Mon - Thu, 5:30pm - 10:30pm; Fri & Sat, 5:30pm - 11pm; Lunch, Friday, 12pm-2:30pm.
First Bite Impressions: Lost in translation
Price: Appetizers, $14; Entrees, $30.
Reservations: Reservations recommended.
www.frognyc.com

Chef Didier Virot & his partner Philip Kirsh are testing their luck at NYC's restaurant roulette again.  While Virot's first venture notably brought refined French to the Upper West Side, he's decided this time to tempt fate in Soho with a mixed bag of nearly every cuisine under the "French sun" (Lebanon, Morocco, Vietnam, & Africa to name a few).  The two-level space also happens to be in throwing distance from Balthazar, which makes it nearly impossible to avoid side-by-side comparisons to McNally's French tour de force.  But unlike Balthazar's worn-in brasserie decor, FR.OG looks nothing like France.  From a white marble bar to pink ultrasuede banquettes & disco ball-mirrored stairwell, the sleek setting feels more like a swanky nightclub than a restaurant. 

While the setting implies frivolity, both the menu and prices suggest an aggressive reach toward destination status.  It's difficult enough to master one region's cuisine, but upwards of four countries is ambitious to say the least.  But Chef Virot attempts just that with a global brew: braised lamb shank with roasted duck breast with cinnamon & Moroccan couscous, monkfish in tajine and foie gras sauteed with ginger crust.  Moroccan spices even make their way onto the cocktail menu, implemented by mixologist Robin Lewis, who concocts saffron-perfumed champagne & Vietnamese herb-infused rum.  I sampled a ginger rose, a honeyed elixir of gin, litchi & ginger - a drink that's pleasing on its own, but unfortunately clashed with my curiously plated seared lamb loin (note the photo).  Unsettling, no?  This long, tasty rope of lamb snuck a lemony kick from a dusting of sumac (nonpoisonous red berry), but went sadly unserved by a tasteless taboulee, apparently just for show.  Ditto on a mess of shredded cabbage & carrots that accompanies cardamom & cane sugar-crusted scallops to the table. 

Mismatched plates seem a running theme at FR.OG, again rearing its head in an entree of colossal shrimp - indeed enormous - but practically upstaged by a phallic-looking & remarkably tasteless, eggplant roll.  But once tossed aside, the deliciously juicy, coriander-spiked shrimp cushioned by the cool pillow of celery root & coconut puree.  Likewise, a springy melange of fresh corn, carrots, cabbage & bacon, was the perfect interplay of smoky and delicate textures.  If only it weren't served with an overcooked & chewy pork loin fell flat, seasoned with a barey discernible caramel-ginger sauce.

Chef Andres Vasquez pulls off a luxuriously moist coffee-tinged sponge cake with a naughty mound of Bailey's ice cream.  A prim riff on peanut butter & jelly, the peanut butter bomb itself delights, but strikes discord against a "salad" of strawberries, pine nuts & olive oil.  The word salad should never ever appear on a dessert menu.  Alas, most diners, were too busy texting or scamming to appreciate Virot's overly precious plates.  FR.OG suffers from an identity crisis: it strives toward chef-driven stardom while simultaneously luring a scenester clientele. 

Until we eat again,
Restaurant Girl
**Don't forget to subscribe for Restaurant Girl's Weekly Newsletter**

Address: 137 MacDougal St., btwn. Prince & Spring Sts.
Phone: 212.475.7500
Cuisine: Provencal French
Vibe: Country charm
Scene: An unassuming romantic
Hours: Dinner, Mon - Sat, 5:30pm - 11:30pm.
Inside Scoop: May 1st, Sunday night dinner begins.  Come mid-May, lunch 7 days a week.
Don't Miss Dish: Salt cod fritters
First Bite Impressions: Neighborhood gem
Price: Appetizers, $10; Entrees, $23.
Reservations: Reservations recommended.
www.provencenyc.com

In this freakishly fast-paced dining climate, restaurateurs often resort to convoluted fusion tactics & garish gimmicks to garner attention.  It's easy for diners to get caught up in the rat race, too busy sampling the latest in foie gras powder or Italian-Japanese fusion to revisit our neighborhood favorites.  We take steadfast spots like Provence for granted.  And then one day, owner Jean Michael & his restaurant shutter after nearly twenty years. 

But Marc Meyer and Vicki Freeman have graciously rescued Provence from near death, handsomely reviving the Soho institution.  With Cookshop & Five Points under the couple's belt, Provence seems an unlikely next move, but this project was personal (the two were engaged there).   

Provence returns to us with a much-needed facelift and its Mediterranean roots very much intact.  It's true the waiters no longer greet you in French and there's no rabbit paillard to be had, but the decor & fare are as inviting as ever.  Newly revived with sunny yellow accents, country french patterns, antique mirrors and original wood paneling, the space is perhaps better than new. 

Marc Meyer has partnered up with chef Lynn McNeely (formerly of Barbuto) to implement a Provencal-inspired menu with a signature sprinkling of garlic, olives & onions.  Of course, seafood's plentiful: provencal fish soup, grilled whole fish and a generous raw bar.  There's also a regional dose of housemade pork sausage, lamb daube & rabbit rillettes. 

Considering the current fashions of food, Provence's simple & bright cuisine is a fantastical feat.  There is nothing particularly revelatory or even exceptional - Meyer & McNeely are in no way trying to reinvent the wheel - which is exactly what makes it so irresistible.  Take the salt cod fritters; crunchy puffs of luscious salt cod elevated to another plane by an addictive, garlicky aioli, which merits slathering on a French baguette once the fritters disappear from their basket.  The fallen goat cheese souffle, eggy & tart, was an admittedly more refined endeavor, but no doubt a pleasing one.  The appetizers seem to outshine the entrees, as was further proved by a supple tangle of sauteed calamari & octopus, playfully peppered with currants & pine nuts, all simmering in a currant-sweetened puddle of white wine, garlic & parsley.

The only blatant disappointments I stumbled upon was a deflated & salty chicken liver mousse and a bland halibut served in a watery, artichoke barigoule (stew), rendering its accompanying carrots & leeks mush.  But the pan-roasted cod embodied the consummate Provencal dish; a green olive-crowned codfish, flaky & moist, arrived in a pool of aigo boulido (boiled water), stocked with garlic, sage & bay leaves.

Though most of the desserts were slightly uninspired - just like the former Provence - it's worth lingering over the delightful almond-specked meringue drizzled with a vanilla bean sauce. 

Until we eat again,
Restaurant Girl
**Don't forget to subscribe for Restaurant Girl's Weekly Newsletter**

Address: 137 East 55th St., btwn. 3rd & Lexington Aves.
Phone: 212.755.7055
Cuisine: French-Moroccan
Vibe: Exotic Arabian escape
Scene: Euro crowd
Hours: Dinner, Mon - Sat, 5:30pm- 12am.  Lounge hours, Mon - Fri, 5:30pm - 4AM, Sat. 10pm - 4am. 
Scoop: Multitask - shop while you imbibe in the downstairs store filled with Moroccan wares
Price: Appetizers, $5-11.  Entrees, $22-34.
Reservations: Reservations accepted.
www.azzanyc.com

Ever wonder what happened to Fizz, that members-only supper club & lounge in midtown, which suddenly lifted its exclusionary policy to fill the swanky void within?  Neither did I, but apparently it "fizzled" into the night, not shocking considering the allure of downtown Lotus, Marquee and Stereo.  In its wake, Restaurateur Djamal Zoughbi and his partner Thierry Pomies have ambitiously revamped the space, unveiling French-Moroccan Azza.  Gone are the moneyed namedroppers and impossible Fizz guest lists, replaced by a kindler, gentler Euro-centric crowd. 

If you happen to be in midtown east, Azza merits a visit on aesthetics alone: What could've potentially looked like Epcot's Moroccan Pavillion (yes I've been), manages to eclipse kitschy artifice.  The palatial space is exotically festooned with gold & burgundy accents, vibrant lanterns and pillows, all amassed by Djamal himself on trips to Morocco.  Upon entering Azza, mismatched antique rugs line a lengthy candlelit front hall, draped in shimmering blue tapestries.  Wander left and you'll happen upon the restaurant, but continue down the stairs and you'll find yourself wandering through a subterranean series of moody lounges equipped with hookahs, wireless and a rotating cast of DJ's. 

Naturally, I veered left toward the wireless-free dining room, which was furbished with Gustav Klimt-like wall murals and gilded chairs.  While cuisine tends to be an afterthought at lounges involving DJ booths & dancing, the French-Moroccan menu is so much better than it has to be.  Even more unexpected than the simple, yet polished offerings, is that chef Stephen Ferdinand (Le Zoo & Aquavit) employs only organic ingredients in a flurry of mezze, couscous & tagines.

The best of the offerings are the mezze, liberally sprinkled with fresh mint, lemon, harissa and cinammon.  The seared yellowfin tuna, perfectly rare and tender, packed a laden harissa heat offset by a drizzling of honey.  Well-charred octopus was nicely posed on barely blanched chickpeas with mint, but I was uncharacteristically more taken by a gently sweet, baby carrot salad, crowned with diced mango & fresh dill.  While I usually skip over all things fried when judging the merits of a menu - because almost anything tastes good drenched in hot oil - the fried cigars, rolled in a phyllo dough then stuffed with supremely fresh spinach & melting goat cheese, are not to be missed.  Unfortunately, a heaping bowl of bland & tough falafel is.

If not for the theatrics alone, order a tagine which arrives tableside in traditional clay pots.  A moist tagine chicken came stewing in a blissful puddle of orange flower-perfumed demi glace and dotted with marcona almond-stuffed dates.  We bid adieu to Azza with warm sugar & spice donuts accompanied by a honeyed dipping sauce, a refined take on Dunkin Donut's munchkins.

Limited by not only its midtown locale, but also its clubby vibe, DJ and French Tuesdays, Azza is destined to exist as a Euro-bent nightlife destination that just happens to have good food.

Until we eat again,
Restaurant Girl
**Don't forget to subscribe for Restaurant Girl's Weekly Newsletter**