I’ll be honest—I went bracing myself for the dreaded Michelin stiffness. You know, the kind where the service is either robotic or aggressively warm, the atmosphere so hushed you’re afraid to cough, and the whole thing feels more like a performance than a meal. But this place? It completely shattered those expectations.
Yes, it’s high-end, but it doesn’t smother you in formality. The design is modern and elegant, with warm beige tones that feel inviting rather than sterile. Noise levels are perfect—you can actually have a conversation without shouting, but it’s lively enough that you don’t feel like you’re dining in a church. And the best part? People aren’t sitting around in stiff suits looking miserable. You’ll see diners in polos, jeans, and nice shoes, which makes the experience feel effortlessly cool rather than pretentious.
Now, let’s talk about the food—because wow. Every course was a knockout. The plates are small, sure, but you get options (3, 4, or 7 courses), and the quality-to-price ratio is way better than other so-called fine dining spots that don’t even come close to this level of execution.
They kick things off with bread, and not just any bread—perfectly baked, crusty sourdough that’s so good you don’t even need butter (but trust me, use theirs, it’s worth it). Then comes the amuse-bouche: a mushroom cappuccino with a sweet potato custard that just melts in your mouth. If it had been twice the size, I still would have wanted more.
First course? I went with the tuna, and let me tell you, whoever is in charge of acidity here knows what they’re doing. Finding a raw dish with seasoning this spot-on is rare. Then came the langoustine—perfectly cooked, bathed in a sauce so good I genuinely considered licking the plate (I didn’t, but it was a close call). The lobster? Another win. The black pepper and coconut sauce actually delivers on the pepper part—a rarity in the world of “au poivre” anything.
Dessert sealed the deal. The chocolate tart is everything a chocolate dessert should be—rich but not cloying, with a deep bitterness that makes you want a second slice instead of regretting the first. And if you’re feeling adventurous, the L’Ardéchois (chestnut, rum, pear) is a knockout—it’s got a punch, but in the best way. They finish the night with a few petit fours because, of course, they do, and yes, they’re also great.
Service? Impeccable. The staff actually looked happy to be there (a small miracle in fine dining), and our server, Michael, was the perfect balance of warm, attentive, and never intrusive.
This place is a gem. A Michelin-starred spot that doesn’t feel like a museum exhibit. A high-end restaurant that actually makes you want to come back. And now that I’ve told you about it, I just hope I can still get a reservation.