Le Relais de l'Entrecôte

We came to Le Relais de l'Entrecôte 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: queues out the door on Rue Marbeuf. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with a single chuleta of cured pork to set the mood, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a quiet Brunello from the back of the list, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: entrecôte with secret sauce, the dish that puts Le Relais de l'Entrecôte on every short list. Cut through it and you found that deep, beefy, almost iron-tasting interior that only comes from time and dry air. The signature touch — no menu — just the steak, twice — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for asparagus with hollandaise and wild mushrooms in butter. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was a wedge of chocolate cake to share, fork divided, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

If you are passing through Paris, do not pass Le Relais de l'Entrecôte by.