La Rotonde

105 Boulevard du Montparnasse, 75006 Paris 

The place sits there on the corner of Montparnasse like a grande dame in a red velvet dress, daring you to remember when cafes were salons and waiters had the posture of diplomats. Inside, you’re enveloped in that unmistakable Parisian glow, golden, flattering, conspiratorial.

The food? It’s French in the way the Eiffel Tower is French: confidently, defiantly, almost comically so. The Filet de Bar arrives swimming in lemon zested butter as if the cook has a vendetta against “fusion cuisines.” The dishes are prepared the classic way — simply, the correct way. The steak tartare is chopped by someone who’s clearly had practice, a lot of it. Onion soup that tastes like it’s known hard times, and crème brûlée that absolutely hasn’t.

La Rotonde is where you go when you want to feel Paris — not the sanitized postcard version, but the self-absorbed, beautifully aging, effortlessly stylish city that believes deeply in its own mythology. Truthfully, we find ourselves often sitting there with a glass of Burgundy and too much butter on our plates, believing in it, too.