By Barbra Austin

The leafy terrace at Hôtel Amour.

Hôtel Amour
8, rue Navarin, in the 9th Arrondissement.
01 48 78 31 80. Daily, noon–11 p.m.

The food at Hôtel Amour is perfectly fine, but it’s the leafy terrace in the back that makes my heart sing. On a warm summer day it feels several degrees cooler in this sort of urban secret garden. Here it’s also cooler, with a laid-back right-bank mix of diners tucking into their tartare with gusto.

The menu is conducive to light meals and snacking. Start with a bunch of radishes or make a meal out of a chicken Caesar salad, a salade niçoise, or a plate of melon, mozzarella and Spanish ham. In case you haven’t noticed, the offerings here are less French, more casual-cosmopolitan. But then so is the clientele.

I saw plenty of bountiful salads pass by in the hands of pretty young waitresses, but many hungrier types were skipping the greens and going straight for the burger, with or without bacon and cheese. I have heard very good things about that burger (from a curmudgeonly American, no less), and I suspect those comments have to do at least in part with the honest pile of frites that accompanies it—crisp, golden, freshly fried and served with all the accoutrements from Heinz and Hellmann’s. Now that’s amour!

Roast chicken with fries.

A burger was not in the cards for me on a recent visit. I wanted to try more of the menu. Starters included smoked salmon, an artichoke salad with Parmesan and olive oil, and a tomato soup with basil. I chose a salad of green peas and fava beans, tossed with delicate greens, bacon and chèvre, which was just right.

I got my fix of fries with the roasted chicken. The chicken (a poulet jaune des Landes) was moist and flavorful, comme il faut, and the green salad was fresh and well dressed, competing as well as it could with those fries. Memorable? Not exactly, but satisfying nonetheless. Other main-course options included an entrecôte, grilled bass and grilled saucisses.

The real treat here, though, as I said earlier, is the setting. A brick patio under a glass atrium gives way to a lush garden with more seating among the greenery. There are a couple of tables secluded up a few stone stairs, which would make an excellent spot for clandestine business meetings.

Or a little amour, maybe.

In a nutshell: With a pretty crowd, a prettier space and pretty good food, there’s plenty to love about Hôtel Amour.

Price check: Starters are 6–15 euros; mains, 13–28 euros; desserts 4.50–9 euros.

For similar food with a grander view, visit Café Marly, which looks onto the main courtyard of the Louvre and is priced accordingly.

INFO

Café Marly
93, rue de Rivoli, in the 1st.
01 49 26 06 60. Open daily, all day.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Pigeon with sweetbreads, girolles and cucumbers.

Spring Restaurant
6, rue Bailleul, in the 1st Arrondissement.
01 45 96 05 72.
Dinner, Tues–Sat; lunch, Thurs–Sat.

In high summer, Spring has sprung.

Has sprung again, I should say; this is the second incarnation of Daniel Rose’s much-lauded restaurant in the 9th, open at long last.

A fantastic renovation has left original architectural details of the 16th century space in place, protected but visible thanks to clever and beautiful use of glass to cover exposed beams and stone walls, and to encase a risky old stairway. A huge plate-glass window swings out to the street. The open stainless steel kitchen is the centerpiece, dominating the roughly 22-seat dining room. There you can watch Daniel, cochef Marie-Aude Mery and their small staff at work.

Your meal there will not be the same as mine, though it will be the same as your neighbor’s. The unique 64 euro menu changes daily according to whim and what products are available.

We settled in with champagne and a plate of melon with cured pork loin, ready to get down to business.

On this night there was eggplant, showing off its versatility as a crisp croquette, a quenelle of caviar, a deeply caramelized confit and, most surprising, a lightly pickled wedge that half the table mistook for a tomato. Smoked eel lent salt and depth to the menagerie.

Eggplant four ways, smoked eel.

Next, tuna two ways: over sweet, delicately smoked tomatoes, accompanied by a tender morsel enrobed in ashes of leeks—a Catalonian riff on old Paris. A single well-seasoned prawn completed the plate. Pigeon followed, mingling with sweetbreads on a bed of girolles and spears of cucumber (a vegetable rarely eaten any way but raw), its flavor concentrated by cooking.

We enjoyed a fantastic cheese plate of Ossau Iraty, cratered cantal and oozy Brie. We finished with a series of sweet dishes: an apricot floating in a verbena broth with red currants and mint; a plate of cherries sautéed with fresh almonds; and a deconstructed lemon tart. These are what I think of as “cooks' desserts,” dispensing with classic pastry forms and focusing first and foremost on flavor.

Lunch is different, built around a daily bouillon—a nod to the earliest Paris restaurants and, specifically, to nearby Les Halles. Chicken or pigeon and pristine vegetables get their turn in the savory bath, and small plates round out the offerings.

The thoughtful wine list is made up of bottles from small producers practicing organic or biodynamic winemaking, from la belle France but also Italy, Germany and Austria. Prices range from the reasonable sub–30 euro mark to, well, whatever you’d like to spend.

Speaking of wine, in September a wine bar will open on the lower level. Something tells me I’ll be spending a lot of time there.

If you want to eat upstairs, though, stop reading this and book immediately.

In a nutshell: It seems that Daniel Rose has done it again.

Price check: The multicourse dinner menu is 64 euros; lunch bouillon, 23 euros.

If Spring appeals but . . . but what? Book now.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Milk-fed veal, wild salmon, chorizo and anchovies.

Chez l’Ami Jean
27, rue Malar, in the 7th Arrondissement.
Tues–Sat, noon to 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. to midnight.
01 47 05 86 89.

At first Chez l’Ami Jean feels like an old-fashioned bistro. Open since 1931, with tables packed tightly in, the space features hams and peppers hanging from the ceiling, and rugby jerseys and family photos on the walls. But since Yves Camdeborde protégé Stéphane Jego took over in 2003, L'Ami Jean has become a destination for Parisians and visitors alike. A classic? Yes. A modern one.

There is a 35 euro formule offered at lunch and dinner. I have always found the copious printed menu here a little hard to navigate, to be honest, so I look to what’s written on the ardoise to help narrow things down.

But I will confess that my favorite way to eat at this Basque-inflected bistro is to order the 60 euro “carte blanche” menu, a series of (usually) six surprises from the kitchen.

We started with a crawfish soup, intense in aroma but a little light in taste, flecked with tiny croutons, peas and chives. Next was a fillet of cod doused with a parsley purée that conjured Dr. Seuss, served with duck foie gras, fava beans and the ribbon of chorizo that comes with many dishes here. Though it certainly adds a splash of color, the chorizo is more than a garnish; a bit of it on your fork adds salt and a touch of heat.

The mixing of meat and fish on the same plate is a recurring theme in Jego’s cooking. Following the cod, for example, was a tender morsel of milk-fed veal sitting atop a translucent sheet of wild salmon, topped in turn with anchovies and more of that chorizo. It shouldn’t work, but it does.

Lobster with boudin noir (blood pudding).

After that was an even more unlikely (to me, anyway) and even more delicious marriage of lobster and boudin noir, a buttery rich claw keeping company with dark and ferrous blood pudding and paper-thin strips of lard. The last savory course was sweetbreads with summer’s girolle mushrooms. These two elements alone would have made a fine dish, but Jego added a briny and herbaceous seafood salad.

I said before that the menu "carte blanche" was all surprises, but that’s not entirely true: the last course is always L’Ami Jean’s famous riz au lait (rice pudding), plopped down in a huge bowl for self-service and impossible to refuse even after so many courses.

Not everyone will love L’Ami Jean, but plenty of people do, and at night the place is packed. If you have a low tolerance for what some call “bustling” and others call “brusque,” I suggest going for lunch, which feels downright tranquil in comparison. In any case, reserve.

In a nutshell: Stéphane Jego’s bold cooking makes Chez l’Ami Jean one of the best contemporary bistros in Paris.

Price check: 35 euro formules at lunch and dinner, or 40–50 euros à la carte. The menu “carte blanche” is 60 euros. A mostly southwestern wine list with both bargains and splurges.

If you like Basque-flavored bistros, you’ll also like Christian Etchebest’s Le Troquet:

Le Troquet
21, rue François Bonvin, in the 15th.
01 45 66 89 00.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Cherry clafouti with pistachio cream.

Le Grand Pan
20, rue Rosenwald, in the 15th Arrondissement.
01 42 50 02 50. Mon–Fri, noon–2 p.m. and 7:30 p.m.–11 p.m.

In Greek mythology, Pan is the god of nature, reigning over pastures and flocks, and the shepherds who keep them. While there is nothing particularly pastoral about the 15th Arrondissement of Paris, there nature’s bounty is yours for the eating at Le Grand Pan.

This bistro often comes up in conversations about where to find a good steak. While it’s true that the côte de boeuf is superb, the generous use of seasonal vegetables at Le Grand Pan makes it more than just an address for meat and potatoes. A refreshing crab gelée was topped with a pile of tender green beans, a nest for a few sweet and rosy shrimps. An earthy mound of girolles was livened up by a marinade, tangy with vinegar and red peppers, and a salty strip of crisp bacon.

Girolles made another appearance with my main course, underneath a beautiful filet mignon of pork, and enriched with a touch of cream. The pigeon that my friend ordered looked comparatively austere, accompanied only by a red wine sauce, but the flavor of this little crisp-skinned bird was anything but.

The best way to eat at Le Grand Pan, though, might be with someone who likes to share. On the wall is a list of pedigreed meats—pork from Eric Ospital, veal and beef from Mauléon—all meant for two mouths, all served with thick, golden fries and, if you’d like, a salad of delicate greens from vegetable goddess Annie Bertin. 

Filet mignon of pork with girolles.

The wine list is oriented mostly toward the southwest, and includes a number of by-the-glass pours and carafes for under 20 euros. What’s not to like about that?

Keeping with the season, we had a very successful cherry clafouti for dessert, topped with a spoonful of pistachio whipped cream (something I will be trying out at home, for sure). That wasn’t before enjoying some cheese, though, a serve-yourself board of five beauties.

When we walked into the room, the atmosphere was friendly and relaxed. I had the distinct impression that most of the diners were neighborhood regulars, and when we left, I remember thinking that I would be a regular at Le Grand Pan, too, if I lived nearby.

In a nutshell: Le Grand Pan deliciously brings the best of French flora and fauna from the fields to the table.

Price check: First courses, 8–16 euros. Mains, 21–25 euros. Desserts, 7 euros.

If Le Grand Pan sounds good but the location doesn’t, visit La Régalade Saint-Honoré, smack dab in the middle of Paris, for great seasonal bistro cooking:

La Régalade Saint-Honoré
123, rue St.-Honoré, in the 1st.
01 42 21 92 40. Mon–Fri, lunch and dinner.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Sautéed limande with couscous and red pepper.

Les Botanistes
11 bis, rue Chomel, in the 7th Arrondissement.
01 45 49 04 54. Mon–Sat, noon–2:30 p.m. and 7:30 p.m.–10:30 p.m.

Here’s a new-old address in the shadow of le Bon Marché. Formerly le Gorille Blanc, the restaurant there is now called les Botanistes, and it's under new ownership. The restaurants in this area tend toward uninspired and overpriced, but when François Simon gave it a pas mal (not faint praise, considering the source), I decided I would give it a try.

We were warmly welcomed and asked if we’d like to sit inside or outside. Les Botanistes is on a quiet, low-traffic street, and the sun was shining, so the choice was not difficult.

Ordering, though, was not so easy, mainly because many of the dishes appealed to me. A sort of sunniness shone through even in reading the menu, where herbs and vegetables are more than just a garnish. It’s the kind of food I like to eat most this time of year. The pricing presented a less pleasant dilemma: the two-course, 17-euro lunch menu is a good deal, but your choices are limited to a few selected items. On this day they were gazpacho, green herb salad or salmon tartare for starters; and for mains, chicken with shitake jus or filet of limande (kind of like sole) with couscous. Stray from the formule, and you will spend twice as much, a reminder that this is the 7th Arrondissement, after all.

As is often the case, the à la carte offerings were a little more interesting, particularly a risotto of chipirons (Basque-style squid) with green asparagus, cod with marjoram vinaigrette and lamb with summery ratatouille. Among the first courses, a mushroom terrine piqued my interest, and I didn’t regret spending the extra euros. It was the best dish of the meal—savory and nutty, brightened with a splash of parsley coulis, intense mushrooms lightened up for summer. I loved it. The gazpacho was honest and refreshing, just as it should be.

Mushroom terrine with parsley coulis.

The chicken was fine, though its accompanying shitake jus lacked the earthy depth one hopes for in mushroom sauces. The limande was cooked perfectly and placed on its fluffy semolina bed, napped with a red-pepper sauce whose flavor matched its color. I was happy.

We spoke with the owner, Jean-Baptiste Gay. He told us he likes to keep things simple, with no more than three or four elements to a dish. He uses the best ingredients he can find and treats them simply. He cooks the way he likes to eat, and it comes through on the plate.

In a nutshell: You could say that the food at les Botanistes is a little comme il faut. But if that means good ingredients treated well by a careful cook, then there is nothing wrong with that.

Price check: Two courses at lunch are 17.70 euros. A la carte, first courses are 8–16 euros, mains are 18–24 euros.

Feeling more rue Cambon than Bon Marché? Visit contemporary brasserie Flottes O.Trement for pre- or postshopping sustenance.

INFO

Flottes O. Trement
2, rue Cambon, in the 1st.
01 42 61 31 15. Tues–Sat, lunch and dinner.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Bob’s Kitchen
74, rue des Gravilliers, in the 3rd Arrondissement.
09 52 55 11 66. Mon–Fri, 8 a.m.–3 p.m.; Sat–Sun, 10 a.m.–4 p.m.

I’m no vegetarian, but when I walk out of Bob’s Kitchen, I have the unmistakable feeling that I’ve just done something good for my health.

First, there are the juices. The mash-up of watermelon, kiwi, pineapple, lemon, strawberry and mint sounded more like a grocery list than a recipe for goodness, but my taste buds (and nagging cold) thanked me after my first sip through the bendy straw. I shouldn’t have been skeptical. This is the Bob behind Bob’s Juice Bar, whose name isn’t Bob at all (it’s Marc Grossman). The man knows a thing or two about juice.

As for solid food, you can go in a few directions: there is a veggie burger, served on a whole-wheat English muffin, with three different salads. The patty is made from rice, red beans, herbs and vegetables, including a bit of hot pepper. It’s savory and toothsome, even better smeared with guacamole or tapenade. I could live without the potato salad (a personal bias more than a comment on Bob’s version), but the slaw with sesame oil and rice-wine vinaigrette, flecked with black sesame seeds, was delicious.

The veggie burger.

Those of you who like it raw could order a bol cru, a deep bowl filled with a rotating cast of vegetables and grains of many colors. There are also house-made makitori, Japanese-style hand rolls. There are honest-to-god pancakes, two plate-sized flapjacks with enough fluff to absorb all the maple syrup you care to douse on them. Be sure to ask for them with fruit. An ever-changing “veggie stew” is on the board, too. It can be very good or, in the case of last weekend’s “Thai” version, neither noticeably Thai nor what I’d call a stew, the kind of boring mess that gives vegetarian cooking a bad name. Pass the sriracha, please.

Something about the space makes me feel like I’m in the arts-and-crafts room back in grade school. Is it the piano in the corner? The magnets slapped on the board to form the day’s menu? Or the long table, whose wells could hold paintbrushes instead of flatware? I don’t know, but it’s fun and funky, and I like it.

Desserts are low-guilt minimuffins and oat cookies, and the coffee is ground to order, a rarity in Paris. But I don’t go to Bob’s for dessert. I go to Bob’s because I’ve had too much dessert.

Price check: From 1 euro (for the minimuffin) to 12 euros (for the veggie burger). A bio-bargain.

In a nutshell: The food at Bob’s is good and good for you.

If Bob’s sounds good, you’ll also like that other bastion of the bio-bobo brunch set, Rose Bakery, which has a location in the Marais.

Rose Bakery II
30, rue Debelleyme, in the 3rd.
01 49 96 54 01.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Suckling Pyrenees lamb with stuffed peppers.

Le Timbre
3, rue St.-Beuve, in the 6th Arrondissement.
01 45 49 10 40. Tues–Sat, noon–2 p.m. and 7:30 p.m.–10:30 p.m.

I first visited this place with a couple of girlfriends more than three years ago. Our table wasn’t ready, so we waited with a glass of wine at the kitchen counter, where we tried to stay out of the way of the busy serveuse while chatting and watching the chef cook away. I was charmed.

The aptly named le Timbre is the size of a postage stamp, a single room with a tiny kitchen in the back. Every inch of space is put to use. There is a banquette along each wall, and you’ll need help getting in and out.

The words cuisine traditionnelle are written on the window, but even if they weren’t, it would be obvious. Terrine de campagne with onion jam, hure de cochon (a.k.a. head cheese), white asparagus, fennel soup: like other bistros in this genre, it’s less about creativity than quality. Those white asparagus were served with a mustard-laden vinaigrette and a green herb puree, each bright and well seasoned.

There were a few Basque touches to the main courses: rabbit was served with chorizo, and a falling-apart-tender piece of young Pyrenees lamb sat next to stuffed pimiente peppers, racy red with a hint of heat. A seasonal sensibility is apparent, asparagus popping up again in the main courses alongside girolle mushrooms to accompany duck confit.

Sweet teeth would do well to opt for le Timbre’s signature mille-feuille, a peach-and-rhubarb crumble or, in my case, Agen prunes (the best prunes in the world, maybe) in white wine and spices. I love these kinds of simple bistro desserts.

The Rhône and Loire valleys are well represented on the wine list, along with the Languedoc and Roussillon, most reasonably priced and most from small biodynamic winemakers.

If I told you that the chef of this near-perfect little French bistro was English, would you be surprised? Maybe, but if you’re a cheese lover you’ll appreciate the single nod he makes to his homeland: a plate of Stilton, that champion of blues that rarely gets its due in France, chauvinist as it is.

Because of le Timbre’s size, I recommend calling two days in advance for a table. Those 20-some seats fill up quickly with neighborhood locals and visiting foodies staying in the area.

In a nutshell: A meal at the tiny le Timbre should leave bistro lovers with a big smile.

Price check: First courses, mains and desserts are 8, 17 and 7 euros, respectively, barring the occasional supplement.

If you love the sound of this pocket-sized bistro, you’ll also love the minuscule La Cerisaie, on the other side of the Gare Montparnasse.

La Cerisaie
70, blvd Edgar Quinet, in the 14th.
01 43 20 98 98. Mon–Fri, noon–2 p.m. and 7 p.m.–10 p.m.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Salad with magret de canard.

Charbon Rouge
25, rue Marbeuf, in the 8th Arrondissement.
01 40 70 09 99. Daily, noon to 11:30 p.m.

Here’s an address for steak frites with South American style.

Sure, you can have béarnaise sauce with your steak at Charbon Rouge, but one look at the menu and you’ll know that this isn’t a classic French steakhouse.

It’s a concept restaurant, really, and the concept is simple: high-quality aged beef from good sources around the world—Charolais beef from France, Wagyu raised in New Zealand, Angus from the United States and Argentina—cooked over a charcoal grill.

For starters I considered the seviche and gazpacho, but then I hastily ordered the entrée du jour before realizing that it was perhaps not the best idea to have a salad with duck breast before having a big piece of steak.

But when it arrived, a fat portobello supporting rosy slices of grilled duck with a scattering of greens and red onions, I no longer cared. The dressing was bold, with bits of lardoon, herbs and almonds. I could have stopped there.

I’ve heard good things about the burger here, and the mother and daughter across from me were certainly enjoying theirs. But steak seemed like the way to go. Priced from 19 to 73 euros (that’s for the Wagyu), the meat is grilled to your preferred cuisson and served with different sauces: a bright herb-based chimichurri, béarnaise, or charbon rouge, a red pepper–based sauce with mild heat. You have a choice of sides: grilled vegetables, fries, or a Caesar or green salad. There is also a choice of knives, serrated or non. I recommend non.

Grilled flank steak.

I had an American flank steak and, naturally, fries. The fries were not bad but I’m skeptical that they were fraîches (fresh), as advertised. As one of the last lunchers in the place, I think I may have gotten the dregs. The steak itself was fantastic, perfectly cooked and well seasoned, and I loved the spice in the red sauce.

In the name of professionalism I had dessert, too, a verrine made with dulce de leche that was bogged down by a pasty chocolate tapioca and a lace cookie about to go limp.

The whole place is pretty slick, all wood and leather in shades of brown and black and red, with a lovely tiled bar area (great for solo dining) and bovine-themed art all around, in case you forget what you’re eating. The restaurant is large, with two levels and a bathroom that dwarfs my apartment. The crowd is well heeled, with plenty of suits, but full of friendly energy, which is surely in part the effect of a gracious staff.

In a nutshell: Charbon Rouge is a concept restaurant where you can have your steak and eat it, too, South American style.

Price check: Reasonable, especially considering it’s located near the Champs Elysées. Two-course menu at lunch, 23.50 euros. A la carte, first courses from 8 to 12 euros; main courses from 16 to 73 euros; desserts from 7 to 9 euros. Wines at every price point.

If you’re craving red meat but Charbon Rouge sounds too sleek for you, visit the more traditional Maison de l'Aubrac, just down the street:

La Maison de l'Aubrac 
37, rue Marbeuf, in the 8th.
01 43 59 05 14. Open daily.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.

By Barbra Austin

Vanilla-poached rhubarb.

Aux Deux Amis
45, rue Oberkampf, in the 11th Arrondissement.
01 58 30 38 13. Tues–Sat, lunch and dinner.

“A real neighborhood place,” I kept hearing a man say at the table next to us, at Aux Deux Amis, and he’s right. But this can have wildly different meanings, depending on the neighborhood. In this case it’s Oberkampf, lively and mixed, with plenty of unglazed cool.

I reserved a table, but in the future I’ll belly up to the bar or try my luck for a spot outside; it’s a casual way to eat, but Aux Deux Amis is nothing if not casual.

The room could be called retro, but that would imply that it was redecorated at some point, and it doesn’t appear to have been, ever. I found the midcentury-feel fun, but if you want classic charm or flattering lighting, this is not an address for you.

Still, the yellow glare didn’t change the fact that most of what we ate was very good. The food here is in many ways typical wine or tapas bar fare, with Spanish, French and Italian elements, but somehow none of it seems . . . typical.

Sweetbreads with chive blossoms, white asparagus.

There was no printed menu, only a very sweet, very cute waiter (this is apparently a requirement at his former place of employment, Le Chateaubriand) wielding a list of offerings scribbled on several slips of paper. There was one plat chaud available, a saucisse de Morteau with potatoes, but we opted for a series of small plates.

We had white asparagus, cooked (barely enough) and served cold with very good olive oil, salt and pepper. A trembling mound of the Italian cheese burrata, looking like it might burst out of its seams, was served the same way. A wedge of Spanish tortilla arrived, and I did something I’m sure I’ve never done in Paris before: I asked the table next to us to pass the Tabasco.

Less classic was the dish of beets with cod liver and sesame seeds. Though I liked each of the elements, together they didn’t entirely work for me; sometimes a mix of strong flavors adds up to less than the sum of its parts. But a plate of panfried sweetbreads, topped with a scattering of chive blossoms, was disarmingly good; the ris de veau were cooked just right, and the tiny flowers packed a peppery, oniony punch.

Poached rhubarb was dessert. It was utterly simple, but we fought over the last drops of vanilla-flecked juice.

The wines are, naturally, natural, and available by the glass or pot or bottle. We didn’t look at a list but instead put our faith in Mr. Handsome, who came through with a bottle of white Burgundy for 29 euros.

In a nutshell: You may not be able to look as effortlessly cool as the hip clientele at Aux Deux Amis, but you can eat and drink very well here without trying at all.

Price check: Small plates, 3.50–7 euros. Lunch menu, 19.50 euros. In general, count on 25–30 euros total, with wine.

If formica isn’t your thing, try the cozy Coinstot Vino in the charming passage des Panoramas:

Coinstot Vino
26 bis, passage des Panoramas, in the 2nd.
01 44 82 08 54. Mon, lunch; Tue–Fri, lunch and dinner; Sat, dinner.

Editor's note: For a gourmet walking tour, check out our DIY downloadable tours.