Le Severo

Some rooms tell you exactly what to order the moment you sit down. Le Severo, in Paris, is one of them.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: fourteenth-arrondissement neighborhood room, William Bernet at the pass. 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 half-dozen oysters from the raw bar, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered Rioja gran reserva, decanted at the table, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: onglet, the dish that puts Le Severo on every short list. Was it the very best steak I have ever eaten? No. Was it among the dozen I think about most? Yes. The signature touch — the chalkboard wine list and the fries — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for wild mushrooms in butter 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 the bread pudding with bourbon sauce, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I will be back. With company, next time, and a longer reservation.