L’Ambrosie, Paris

At L’Ambroisie, the first impression is not of arrival so much as quiet admission; like being allowed into a members club that has no interest in explaining itself. Tucked inside Place des Vosges, all symmetrical calm and aristocratic brick, it feels less like a restaurant and more like a well-kept secret that has somehow resisted the vulgarity of being discovered. There are no theatrics, no open kitchens clattering for attention, no earnest lectures about provenance. Instead, an atmosphere of cultivated indifference: the sort that suggests everything has already been decided, and decided correctly. Though in French and in French only. Truth is I’ve wanted to visit for at least twenty years, ever since the obsession with food kicked in and I’d whittle away the hours working for the soulless tile company in Tyseley whilst reading Andy Hayler’s restaurant reviews. L’Ambrosie always struck me as different; a kind of culinary absolutism that feels wildly out of step with modern fuss and…