What's a girl in Paris to do when on Sunday night she realizes she needs lunch plans for the next day? (And this is a serious question too.) David had a last-minute work appointment on Monday afternoon and I was loathe to let a baguette suffice me. After careful contemplation I settled on the Restaurant Astier around the corner, which I'd noticed during a baguette run the day before.

Arriving at 12.30, I watched the place fill up: two groups of middle-aged businessmen, a table of two retired couples, a man and a woman in their thirties on a shopping break. I have overcome shyness about dining alone, and shyness about ordering in French, but the two combined made me stiff for some initial minutes before the faultlessly kind waiters relaxed me to leisurely enjoyment of the place and my meal (an entrecôte charolaise poêlée followed by a moelleux caramel, both perfect).

Restaurant Astier, 44, rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud, 75011 Paris