4 out of 5

Long-time Parnell Road resident St Tropez manages to avoid sliding from sophisticated into cliché as it serves a slice of Provencal atmosphere.

Its long dining room has a cream and terracotta palette, with plenty of themed decorations. Upbeat Latin music adds a touch of informality to the well-set tables. In the open kitchen at the back, the cooks wear toques.

Chef Jean-Christophe Varnier has put together a confident menu of French classics from all that country’s regions (and on the bi-lingual list, a full description of each is given in English).

My beautifully composed entrée ($15.50) was made up of warmed slices of tangy goat’s cheese on crostini, arranged with slices of pear around a little salad of lettuce and walnuts. The plate was drizzled with honey.

For my main, grilled eye fillet ($28.50) came with the choice of three sauces: blue cheese; shallot-garlic butter; or red wine and mushroom.

I chose the latter, which was an assertive flavour to accompany the top-notch beef. Cooked perfectly medium (as I had ordered—how rarely does that happen?), it had a nice charred flavour. Potato gratin and some green beans completed the dish.

My companion’s cassoulet ($27.50) contained a smaller proportion of white beans than you usually find in this southern stew. That made it a meat-lover’s delight, with good helpings of smoked ham, garlicky sausages, lamb and duck. It had been baked until the bread-crumb topping formed a nice crust.

The wine list is mainly French, with a supporting cast of New Zealand varietals, most available by the glass. I had a Lafond Cotes-du-Rhone ($9.50); my companion, a Grand Verdus Bordeaux Superieur ($12.50)—both dry and food-friendly.

Service was the only slip-up. The youngsters dressed in white shirts, black trousers and long aprons appeared to be doing their best to deliver clock-work formality.

Instead, their inexperience surfaced and they became clumsy and overbearing. For example, they attempted twice to take away our unfinished bread, and were completely flummoxed by our dessert orders.

My companion had tarte tatin ($14)—listed on the main menu because the upside-down apple tart needed to be pre-ordered to allow for its cooking time. I asked to look at the rest of the desserts, but the menu didn’t arrive until they delivered the tarte tatin and realised their mistake.

My crème brulee ($11.50) arrived promptly enough, and was well made in a wide, shallow dish, topped with a ball of honey-fig ice cream nestled in a brandy-snap wafer.

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