Throughout the early 2000s, New York nightlife came dusted with parmesan. Babbo’s truffled garganelli. Carbone ’s $34 spicy rigatoni. Italian Clubstaurants like Bagatelle and Lavo lured baby-faced brigades with daytime dance floors and bottomless Bellinis. Pasta was power, pasta was nightlife.

Now, the city seems to be deferring to an older playbook. Chandeliers dusted, martini carts out: French dining has returned to remind us that glamour predates red sauce. This new crop of spots is grand, noisy, and refined—and abuzz with people who order pâté not because it’s proper, but because it’s fun.

Of course, France has long seduced New York, its stateside twin flame. In 1937, Le Veau d’Or served escargot and boeuf bourguignon to a city discovering how it felt to eat like Parisians

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