The room is very Montmartre and the food is pure Paris. You almost feel the urge to slip on a beret while ordering duck confit rillette with crusty baguette, cornichons, and mustard. Push the charade over the edge, and order a flute of grower’s champagne. Annex literati swarm the place late on weekends, swirling Prohibition-era cocktails as Serge Gainsbourg croons in the background.