Le Relais de l'Entrecôte

I had been meaning to get to Le Relais de l'Entrecôte for years. I will not wait that long again.

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 chopped salad with too much bacon, exactly right, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a Burgundy that arrived too cold and rewarded patience, 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. It arrived faintly hissing on a heated plate, the kind of small detail that tells you the kitchen still cares about the last twenty seconds before service. The signature touch — no menu — just the steak, twice — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for potato gratin with a dark crust and broiled tomato with a breadcrumb cap. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was key lime pie, 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.