When I say small, I mean you will sit down, look around, make brief involuntary eye contact with the couple next to you, and accept that you are now, in some meaningful sense, dining together. And then, this is the part I didn't expect, it stops mattering entirely.
Le French Diner is on the Lower East Side, which feels right. The menu is a chalkboard. The classics are there: escargots, hanger steak, monkfish, tapenade. But then alongside them, almost as an aside, lamb's neck and octopus. I ordered the hanger steak and a salad. Both were excellent. I did not order the lamb's neck. I thought about it for longer than I'd like to admit, then didn't. I'm not sure what that says about me but I suspect it's accurate.
The wine list answers itself. I ordered the Bordeaux. The brevity of the decision was also exceptional.
The wine list is short. I mean genuinely, mercifully short. One Bordeaux. One Chablis. That's more or less it. I've stood in front of wine lists so long they've made me feel like a fraud, which I am, but I'd rather not be reminded of it. At Le French Diner, the question answers itself. I ordered the Bordeaux. It was exceptional. The brevity of the decision was also exceptional.
The kitchen is completely open, which in a room this size means you're essentially eating in someone's very well-organised home while they cook in the corner. The staff are attentive, and given the size of the place, there's really nowhere for them to be otherwise. On the night I went, 90s hip hop was playing at a volume that was just right. Jurassic 5, I think. Maybe De La Soul. Something that signalled the room knew what it was doing.
Here is the one thing I need to tell you. They don't take reservations. The night I visited, my companion and I arrived close to opening and got counter seats immediately. About twenty minutes later I watched someone get told it was an hour wait. That hour was probably optimistic. If that happens to you, and it might, I'd suggest writing your name down and walking over to the lobby bar at The Ludlow Hotel, or Bar Goto if you want something more interesting in your glass. Have a drink. Have two. Then go back.
I'm telling you this not to discourage you, but because the alternative, standing outside wondering if it's worth it, seems like a waste of time in a neighbourhood with good bars. It's worth it. The room is tiny and it doesn't matter at all.