Arthur Cartier's Bistro

“One visits Arthur Cartier's Bistro for the atmosphere and departs thinking only of the fries. The steak cut is executed with a steadiness suggesting neither haste nor contemplation — only the correct application of heat and timing. The crispness is commendable and largely sustained. The potato is present and largely coherent. The grease is generous in the manner of a host who means it. One recommends not visiting for the atmosphere. The fry alone merits the journey to Cobble Hill.”

“The steak fry at Arthur Cartier's Bistro does not overstay its welcome. The exterior is commendable and largely sustained, the interior is present and largely coherent, and the grease is generous in the manner of a host who means it. The portion is forthcoming. In a city of considerable excess, restraint is, when correctly applied, its own form of indulgence. Arthur Cartier's Bistro applies it correctly. A return visit is, at this point, a formality. One will perform it nonetheless.”

“Not every establishment in Cobble Hill understands its own fry. Arthur Cartier's Bistro understands its fry. The steak format, single-fried in sunflower, produces a crispness that is commendable and largely sustained and an interior that is present and largely coherent. The grease is generous in the manner of a host who means it. Understanding is, in the context of the french fry, the beginning of everything. The address is committed to memory.”

“Arthur Cartier's Bistro occupies a modest address in Cobble Hill. The fries are, in contrast, not modest. The steak format is executed in sunflower, single-fried to a finish that is commendable and largely sustained. The interior is present and largely coherent. The portion is forthcoming. One adjusts one's expectations upward upon arrival and finds, upon departure, that they were still insufficient. The address is committed to memory.”

“One does not seek drama at Arthur Cartier's Bistro. One seeks fries. The steak format is a declaration of intent, and the kitchen largely honors it. The crispness is commendable and largely sustained. The potato flavor emerges mid-experience, which is somewhat later than ideal but not without its own logic. The grease content is generous in the manner of a host who means it. The napkin earns its keep. This guide recommends visiting without expectations and departing, perhaps, with adjusted ones. The fry alone merits the journey to Cobble Hill.”