Le Singe Vert

Originally published in New York Magazine

Amid delis and chain stores along Seventh Avenue sits a little French bistro worth noting: Le Singe Vert. On summery afternoons, it exudes the decelerated time-is-not-money pace of a Parisian sidewalk café, with outdoor seating where regulars laze in the sun. After dusk, wine flows freely at the mahogany bar, and the air buzzes with the chatter of artsy 20-somethings and older been-there-done-that couples. Furnishings fit the mold: black-and-white checkered tile floors, tiny wood tables, and funky exposed lighting fixtures. The techno music pulses in the background—usually low enough to be unobtrusive. The cuisine is a graceful version of bistro—duck confit, for one, is succulent, and slides easily off the bone. Steak tartare, chopped raw beef and cocktail sauce, is heavy and rich. Save room for dessert, because those here are exquisite. The heavenly Pot au Chocolat, a chilled cross between pudding and mousse, doused with chocolate syrup and topped with strawberries and whipped cream. Bring a date, but be forewarned—after a meal this decadent, you might be in the mood for nothing but a nap.