In the darkness, you see it.
A red fox.
You get closer.
It... seems to be made of neon.
And it’ll lead you into a place of bistro splendor from the guy behind Benu.
Thanks, red fox.
Bonjour, Monsieur Benjamin, a late-night-friendly hall of beignets, marrowbones and drinks until 1am, now open in Hayes Valley.
That fox: it’s above the entrance. Just so you know. We see you... seeing the fox... after you’ve had a nice cultural evening in the neighborhood, maybe at the opera or over an inaugural round of Vieux Carrés at Jardinière. Vieux Carrés totally count as culture.
And then: marble. Burgundy banquettes. Filament bulbs. And a gathering swell of casually elegant Francophilia happening at your table—it’ll likely involve camembert beignets, steak tartare, duck terrine, beef tongue and other stuff that’s all hearty enough to justify the phrase “Sure, we’ll have another round.”
Right.
That phrase is usually so hard to justify.
A red fox.
You get closer.
It... seems to be made of neon.
And it’ll lead you into a place of bistro splendor from the guy behind Benu.
Thanks, red fox.
Bonjour, Monsieur Benjamin, a late-night-friendly hall of beignets, marrowbones and drinks until 1am, now open in Hayes Valley.
That fox: it’s above the entrance. Just so you know. We see you... seeing the fox... after you’ve had a nice cultural evening in the neighborhood, maybe at the opera or over an inaugural round of Vieux Carrés at Jardinière. Vieux Carrés totally count as culture.
And then: marble. Burgundy banquettes. Filament bulbs. And a gathering swell of casually elegant Francophilia happening at your table—it’ll likely involve camembert beignets, steak tartare, duck terrine, beef tongue and other stuff that’s all hearty enough to justify the phrase “Sure, we’ll have another round.”
Right.
That phrase is usually so hard to justify.
