We couldn’t have a trip to Paris without a Michelin-starred meal. Well… or perhaps we could. I’ve become a bit jaded about Michelin star cuisine in France; far too many provincial French restaurants who have been awarded a star for being able to put out a hit-and-miss menu of dishes ten years behind many great unstarred restaurants in the UK in balance, presentation and invention. Complete waste of time and money. Sit me down in a good bistro or brasserie with a pile of classics, I’ll save the aspirational dinners for when I’m back home.

So how about Maison Rostang? It’s a proper Michelin dining room: wood-panelled walls, white linen, mighty wine bible, giant silver-plated accoutrements from yesteryear. There’s something comforting about sitting down in a room like this and knowing exactly what you are going to get, in food, service and ambiance.

The canapes and the crab amuse bouche were all well executed and tasty, though none had the knock-out punch that sometimes makes me want to say “just line a dozen of these up and I’ll be happy!” My starter were little buttons of confit tuna, topped with tiny tempura and paired with a cucumber sauce, delicious but perhaps a little small. Maureen enjoyed two really splendid spears of green asparagus, poached to perfection and carrying a powerful smoky flavour. The fennel sabayon was light and full-flavoured, making for a very good combination.

My main was pigeon with white asparagus. The pigeon breasts were superb pieces, very carefully cooked with a nice sear on the outside. The crunchy almond crumb on top worked well and the pigeon jus was smashing. Liver and leg meat had been blended into a very gnarly blob of flavour to one side. The asparagus was also excellent, carrying a hum of basil flavour with it, although it felt like a slightly separate dish. Maureen’s sweetbread was pronounced good, the surface caramelised and crisp. Stewed artichokes went well with it and the vin jaune jus brought the dish together nicely. Worth mentioning that our friend had their classic pike quenelle with lobster sauce, and the taste of it I tried was blissful.

Dessert was a very nifty looking cigar, made of some kind of wafer-thin pastry and filled with a delicate cognac mousse. There was a discernable tobacco flavour in the pastry, which was nice, but I’d have loved this dessert more if they’d found a way to pack more of both flavours – tobacco and cognac – into the dish. In the event the marsala ice cream that came with it was the best part.

All this for about £150 each without drinks (at 2022 exchange rates). It goes without saying that we were guided to a couple of bottles of excellent wine along the way, though most of the wine menu is over E100 of course. So I’m left to summarise back where I started: sometimes it’s comforting to sit down and know exactly what you’re going to get in food, service and ambiance. The problem is with me: I usually go out wanting to be excited by food, not comforted.