It wasn't supposed to be another foodie weekend in New York, really. The plan was for the boys to see the Phillies trounce the Mets, and for Anne and I to visit the Neue Gallerie and its cafe. But we'd spent a couple hours at Dean and DeLuca, Sur la Table, and H&M, and a Steuben Day parade in Central Park had the Gallerie's Austrian cafe backed up to a 40-minute wait for a table at 2 p.m., so we turned back to Demarchelier just a block away at 50 E. 86th St.

Generally, I don't eat French because I can't afford it (I'm more the hole-in-the-wall ethnic restaurant kind), can't pronounce it and don't have the patience to cook it. I may need to change this policy.

We wanted to try as much as possible, and didn't want to spend $20 (each) on a lunch entree, so we each had two appetizers. Anne began with a salad of field greens, and I had the country pate. This was followed by steak tartare (Anne) and a salad of endive, apples and roquefort (myself). To drink, Anne had Bass (one of three beers on tap) and I had a glass of chablis, at our waiter's suggestion after throwing myself on his mercy. We skipped dessert but had Earl Grey (Anne) and coffee.

With tax and tip it was a whopping $75. It was a lovely, leisurely treat, and quite a wonderful find. And we had the pleasure of helping the nice Spanish couple at the next table find a hotel. It was the first time a cell phone was ever justified at the table.

Will I go back? Probably not, but mostly because I live in Philadelphia, not Manhattan.