This French hotspot seems to be the darling of Houston’s smart set, who clamor for coveted seating in a gilded booth, at the marble-topped bar, in the elegant sunroom, on the tree-lined patio, or at classic bistro tables under the expansive floral-covered ceiling (which has been known to change with the season). The menu boasts all the classics you would expect for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. On the night we visited, two of us shared moules au vadouvan, plump steamed mussels in a curry-spiced jus with crusty baguette slices, and pâté de campagne, thick slabs of country style pâté with the obligatory cornichons, grainy mustard, and (of course) fresh-made baguette. Quintessentially French, boeuf bourguignon was très bon, with tender, long-simmered chunks of beef in a luscious stew of pearl onions, mushrooms, and creamy baby potatoes. But after this auspicious start, things began to go south. A variation on coq au vin, coq au Sutton proved to be a roasted chicken breast, sliced and served atop celery root puree speckled with truffle bits (to our dismay, the chicken was bland and the truffle flavor overwhelming). From the dessert menu, an otherwise tasty almond-pear tart—its sweet almond custard topped with prettily fanned slices of ripe pear and a side of crème anglaise—arrived with a decidedly burned crust.