4 Rue Recamier, St Germain des Pres, Paris
I arrived: on a very cold afternoon having asked my hotel to book a table. I had seen online reports of some hopeful diners who said they booked, but when they turned up were told there was no record of a booking and no room at the inn. Parisian waitstaff can take "dismissive" to a unique level.
I chose here because: a friend had recommended it after a visit during the summer. There is also a plethora of online rave reviews, largely for the souffles, of which there are more than 15 varieties.
My first impression: down a side street, the restaurant has an enclosed terrace walled with foliage to preserve the privacy of the clientele. This is in the 7th arrondissement, or district, one of the richest in the French capital and many of its inhabitants are BCBG (bon chic, bon genre or good style, good class).
There was a clutch of people inside the door, waiting hopefully. I said I had a booking, gave the name and they came back with the name of my hotel — which may well have swung my acceptance. I was ushered to a small table with my back against the wall - so in a prime seat to observe and soak up the atmosphere. The walls had framed quotes by The Unbearable Lightness of Being author Milan Kundera and large tableaux. American accents came from a bank of tables to my right and in front of me was a multigenerational family group who seemed in familiar surroundings.