Georges at Pompidou

The jeune homme bearing our $24 club sandwiches (you'd never call him a garçon) is wearing an impeccably styled Joseph Abboud tuxedo, the kind Nordy sells for six or seven Benjamins. The hostesses are in stylish Christian Lacroix miniskirts or tights with designer tops depending on rank. They walk as if on a fashion runway, which, in a sense, they are.

The floor is alumunum, the chairs white leather, the tables translucent and adorned with a single tall red rose. A DJ at the entrance is spinning tunes. Silver-painted tubes shaped like giant molars anchor the back of the room. The outside walls? Well, this is the 7th level of the Pompidou Center in Paris, so the outside walls are all glass. And they overlook, well, pretty much all of Paris: Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacré Coeur.

It's a café called, simply, Georges, a jewel run by the reclusive Costes brothers atop the now-30-year-old modern art museum.

Could have had a carpaccio of scallops and salmon, could have had osetra caviar, or a veal chop or turbot with béarnaise. We don't. We have the perfectly fine club sandwich with homemade gaufrettes (so much more civilized than Tim's Cascade), a salad of fresh green beans, and a half bottle of Sancerre. Not the sort of lunch that tourists expect; the one Merkin family we spot sits down, puzzles over the menu for a couple of minutes, and takes French leave.

But it's all about da view, boss, da view! You're not up too high (Eiffel Tower) or too far away (Sacré Coeur). You're front-row center. More? There's a webcam: click here,

Closest thing in Seattle, sigh, is probably the SAM Taste Café in the glass-sided Paccar Pavilion at the Olympic Sculpture Park. It's run by Bon Appetit Management, a catering outfit serious about sustainability and local sourcing. But they'd be the first to admit that Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower trump Calder's Eagle.