I felt a shiver of excitement at Café d’Alsace as I savored a gorgeous soup bowl of that almost abandoned classic, quenelles de brochet, rich and cleverly textured for its 21st-century revival.

From her memoir, a restaurant critic’s awakening (with romantic help from Elvis, Burt Reynolds, and Clint Eastwood, and Gilbert Le Coze).

I admit I had little hope for that gnocchi, or for fried cod over lemon marmalade, or fennel salad with licorice-spiked olive oil, bold moves on the menu at brand-new Spiga.

Taste the mellow green-apple lobster bisque and those fabulous Asiago truffle fries and you’ll believe the real David Burke has been lurking nearby in this stainless-steel, smartly checkered canteen.

The narrow storefront that was Butterfield 81 has always catered to the neighborhood, and that’s Francesco Antonucci’s mind-set here in a room that is stripped-down and simple.

I have little tolerance for dinner as a cataclysmic life experience. But bad-boy chef Paul Liebrandt promised to soften his edge at Gilt in the freshly restored hallows of the departed Le Cirque 2000.

The city’s almost manic effervescence has invaded the once-staid Waldorf, unleashing a jangle of energy in the lounge of the newly reorganized Peacock Alley.

It’s a small, not all that remarkable Mediterranean fish, but the restaurant that has taken its name is making waves already.

Local grape nuts may cheerfully surrender to the provocative wine pairings in flights of two-ounce tastes at Pair of 8’s, an ambitious new launch on Amsterdam.

If you hunger for constancy and dignity, it’s time for Café Boulud.