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Festooned with the kind of bric-a-brac you'd find at a Frenchified TGI Friday's, Flea Market serves food derived from some Über-bistro in Normandy. Funny how the French both developed the theory of the simulacrum—the idea that much of what we experience as "real" is in fact a representation of something actually (or formerly) real—and put it into practice. Which is not to say that the food—pistachio-crusted salmon over veg napoloen, Sunday-brunch "oeufs Benedicte"—tastes like a simulacrum. Rather, it's correct, as the French would say. And with so many less-than-correct bistros infesting the East Village and Lower East Side, the "antique" flea-market tchotchkes are no barrier to enjoying a precise steak-frites and a few glasses of Merlot. — Rob Patronite and Robin Raisfeld

Sat.—Sun., 10 a.m.—4:15 p.m.

Salmon, $16.95; steak frites, $16.50