Bavette's Steakhouse

We came to Bavette's Steakhouse on a Tuesday because the calendar was kinder than the weekend. The room was three-quarters full and somehow more honest for it.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: dim French bistro by way of Las Vegas. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with burrata with peaches and basil, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a Napa cabernet old enough to drink itself, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: bone-in filet, the dish that puts Bavette's Steakhouse on every short list. It was, frankly, the best version of this cut I have had this year. The signature touch — the steak frites and a martini at the bar — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for creamed spinach so rich it should embarrass us and potato gratin with a dark crust. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was the bread pudding with bourbon sauce, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

If you are passing through Chicago, do not pass Bavette's Steakhouse by.