Buvette.

42 Grove Street, West Village. A tiny, gorgeous French cafe that feels like Paris. The croque madame ($18) is my go-to, a ham and cheese sandwich topped with bechamel and a perfectly fried egg. The tartine with smoked salmon ($17) is also great. Everything is served on mismatched vintage plates. The space seats about 30 people and it’s always full, which means it’s noisy and crowded and somehow charming anyway.

No reservations. Come at 9am on a Saturday and you might get a table immediately. By 10:30 the wait is 30-40 minutes.

Grove Street between Bedford and Bleecker. Take the 1 to Christopher Street.

Buvette is tiny. Like, really tiny. Maybe 30 seats inside and a few more on the sidewalk when the weather cooperates. The menu is French-leaning and everything feels intentional. The granola with thick yogurt and berries is perfect. The tartine with prosciutto and butter is the kind of simple that only works when every ingredient is flawless.

I come here when I want brunch to feel like a quiet morning in someone’s very beautiful apartment. Get there by 9:30 AM on weekends or you’ll wait. Worth it every time.

Swing by for a quick bite if you need to rest your legs, or linger for a while with good friends in tow, the people watching is prime. Buvette is open for walk-ins, but limited reservations are offered 14 days in advance (they go fast). If you find yourself in line, don’t fret, the wait is worthwhile.

Buvette is one of the most authentic French bistros in New York City, the fluent waiters are mere icing on the cake. Part restaurant, part cafe, this local gem oozes an endearing old world charm typically reserved for the cobblestone streets of Europe.

So if a flight across the pond is out of the question, this popular West Village brunch haunt should scratch the itch. The morning menu houses all the usual suspects, from fresh Belgian waffles (topped with a dollop of crème fraiche) to creamy croque monsieurs and smoked salmon eggs.

The pain perdu is a personal favorite, even though my mom argues I could make it at home (spoiler alert. I can’t). Airy brioche dressed in a berry compote and creme anglaise, this one dish alone warrants a detour.

In theory, someone could argue that Buvette is a full-fledged French restaurant, not a wine bar, but I think that misses the point. I mean sure, it’s billed as a restaurant, but French restaurants are notorious for incredible small bites and excellent wine.

As such, I personally consider Buvette the unequivocal darling of charming NYC wine bars. Aesthetically, walking into Buvette feels like. Split a bottle with friend and setting in for the evening (the people-watching is prime).

There’s more than a dozen wines offered by the glass. Plan to linger longer? Opt for a full bottle, like the Bugey-Cerdon, which the restaurant claims is France’s best-kept secret. Buvette also knocks it out of the park with sparkling wines, offering extensive roses, bruts, and pet nats.