Julia's

Nestled into an old building set back from the street, Julia’s (named, we were told, for the owner’s young daughter, while the coy naked woman on the front of the menu is rumoured to be Carla Bruni) is unflashy, but full of pleasant surprises. Established nine years ago, the restaurant has hit on a successful formula of a romantically shabby atmosphere crossed with a sterling menu of French classics mixed with interesting pastas, burgers and other international influenced dishes.

Even the arrangement of the space unfolds into unexpected dimensions – the elegantly dim main room with its dark wood and authentically distressed paint gives onto the small front terrace, which is flanked by two raised, glassed-in eyries for private parties. We sat on the terrace, and enjoyed the night air while the inner room filled up to bursting point and slightly harassed but always cheerful waiters in paint-splattered aprons bustled to and fro.

To start, they brought us a plate of three enormous, deliciously charcoal-edged crevettes laid over a creamy avocado sauce, a perfect summer appetizer. These were followed by two enormous platters, one of salmon with ginger and noodles and another of veal in a mushroom and cream sauce. Both sided with unnecessary but generous filo pastry cups of fresh vegetables. The salmon was perfectly cooked and its accoutrements interestingly – if far from authentically – Asian, and the veal, if not exceptional meat, was tender, the sauce silky and the chips fine and crisp.

After all this, we didn’t need but enjoyed nevertheless a satisfying block of pain perdu, soggy and sweet. For enthusiasm, laidback charm and a more than serviceable menu, Julia’s can rest easy as a place that many people will go back to, and often.