Raoul’s

180 Prince St New York, NY 10012

Classic soho. When art was messy, nights were long, and no one asked the price of wine because they didn’t want to know. It’s a room lacquered in stories: mirrors gone slightly soft at the edges, waiters who move like they’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, and a bar that has seen things it will never confess.

The food is classic French filtered through New York bravado. The steak au poivre is the undisputed anchor—a slab of beef seared with conviction, bathed in a peppercorn sauce so rich and illicit it should come with a nondisclosure agreement. The frites are thin, salty, and relentless in their perfection: the kind you reach for even when you swear you’re done. Raoul’s is also a temple to the half chicken, a dish that sounds modest but arrives burning with confidence—crispy skin, tender flesh, jus with the depth of a novel. And if you’re lucky, you’ll catch the duck confit, which falls apart with the practiced ease of something that knows exactly what it’s doing. This is real New York, and you’re not going to leave hungry.