SergeS et le Phoque
ead down the r oad l ess wandered, past the splash of the local fishmonger, past the muted thud of cleaver against bone and wood, and you’ll discover this most curious of French restaurants. Illuminated in neon blue are the French words for “Serge and the seal”—a hint at the whimsicalal dishes that await beyond the heavy velvet curtains.
Now just over two years old, Serge is a littlee more grown-up—not that it looks much different, just that it feels more like an old friend. The front of house welcomes any guests that walk through the doors as though they’d been coming for years. The laid-back aura of the dining room remains, the cyan leather banquettes and plywood tables still as functional as the day it opened. The restaurant, opened by a trio of food-loving friends— Frédéric Peneau, Christophe Pelé and Charles Pelletier, whoo