Little bistro tables crammed onto the pavement; a basket of baguettes hitched to the wall; oysters shucked on the spot; a perfect tarte au citron. Hey Jupiter salves that Gallic itch with its retro brasserie fit-out; specials such as caviar and foie gras are scribbled on the mirror, and proprietor Christophe is invariably propped at the classic bar sorting papers or making coffee.

There are no surprises on this menu (even the typeface and layout of the large single-page bill of fare is pure vintage Parisian brasserie). Escargots drowning in garlic butter; duck confit; terrine that manages to be simultaneously lean and silken with pork fat. Steak frites is spot on and the omelette stuffed with goat’s curd and spinach perfect if you fancy something sans meat.

The excellent wine list is French (as is the butter and many of the wait staff) and there’s an extensive bar snack menu in the late afternoon. And the location is entirely apropos, tucked away off Rundle St East so that you happen upon this popular haunt almost by accident, as though wandering the little back streets of the Left Bank. Champagne and croque monsieur for breakfast? Why not. Calvados to wrap lunch? Absolument. 

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