This chichi bistro's choicest tables are outdoors, under an arcade on a vest-pocket square with a fountain where Napoleon watered his horses. The kitchen could be more careful about letting beaten egg whites peek through the batter, but you have to admire an institution that for 40 years has dedicated itself to one of France's most monumental dishes. The first thing to be thankful for at L'Auberge Bressane is that the bird in question is a cockerel, not a chicken, which is what many places try to get away with. The slightly gamy meat has a mahogany hue from having been marinated for days, and then simmered, in a Julienas wine bath. The voluptuous sauce enrobes pearl onions.
Service is elegant and crackerjack.
In the United States, onglet is usually opened into a thin, flat steak, but Le Vieux Bistro 's can measure a hefty two inches. The stew also has a rather surprising, absolutely delicious Madeira-like note, as if it were made with an old red wine that had lost its tannin and acid, leaving a heavenly concentration of sugar. As ugly as it is scrumptious, with exceptionally white, fine-grained flesh, it's the one sea creature without which there can be no bouillabaisse. In each restaurant, the heroic Marseillais fisherman's stew comes with croutons, hot-pepper mayonnaise, and rousing rockfish bouillon redolent of anise. Roll up your sleeves for short ribs, bottom round, marrow bones, leeks, turnips, carrots, potatoes, and cabbage .