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Francophiles: pat yourself on the back if you know that A.O.C., short for “L’Ail ou la Cuisse” (the wing or the thigh), is named after the 1970s French comic movie extolling traditional French food over industrialized junk. The menu here is traditional—no infusions, no twists of fate for the duck. You’ll find some unfussy dishes common across France but harder to find in the states, such as carottes rapées, shredded carrots with vinaigrette, and the Colonel, lemon sorbet doused with vodka. Quiches are fluffy, ideal for a light lunch. The unctuous tarte tatin is so soft a baby could eat it, the barely there crust heaped with not-too-sweet fruit. Those big sprigs of parsley? Do as the French do and nibble a leaf to cleanse your palate between courses. The wine list covers the major French regions, with more than a dozen wines by the glass. Be warned: when the place fills up it gets noisy—between the wooden chairs and tables and the picture window, there are no soft surfaces to soak up sounds. — Jennifer Paull