The charming maître d’ welcomes guests into this stone cottage, his Basque accent setting the mood for an enchanting experience. The lush terrace, with its retractable glass roof, could pass for a St. Tropez patio (the servers speaking to one another in French only perfects the illusion). Inside the circa-1860 woodcutters cottages—the two Victorian buildings were fused together to create Auberge du Pommier—fireplaces are animated by flickering candles. In colder months, the half-dozen hearths roar with crackling fires. The space is understated, with white tablecloths, Victorian tchotchkes (a brass duck on a mantle here, a porcelain dog on a windowsill there), and deep, comfortable dining chairs scrawled with whimsical French sayings that when read together become a poem about being lost in the woods. The food here invites diners to get lost in France’s terroir. Seasonal tasting menus move through the French appellations. A summer Champagne menu, for instance, takes inspiration from the region’s less famous, but equally delectable food. À la carte options take a modern approach to French favorites. A lobe of seared foie gras, for example, is served in a delicate but bitter cocoa tart that’s filled with sweet corn, quince marmalade, pickled chanterelles, apple, and Sauternes jus. It’s unapologetically modern French food, in a historical setting, that’s worth the excursion to North York.