Here's a little touch of Paris: physically, gastronomically, linguistically, spiritually. The railway line slopes past a street with a hotchpotch of aged shops clinging to its east side. Among them is Chez Bob, with a bustling service bar, linen-clothed tables, bentwood chairs and French-speaking staff. The menu is Gallic and classic: oysters shucked to order, cured salmon, a terrine of the day. Seafood 'pie' is saucy, almost soupy, the dish crammed with scallops, mussels, prawns and white fish, then topped with puff pastry. Much of the cuisine looks to country France, with dishes such as braised rabbit or veal fillets Normande in a creamy sauce of mushrooms spiked with calvados. A hunk of eye fillet arrives as ordered, rare, pink and juicy, with perfect pommes frites alongside. Desserts are rich and profuse: creamy profiteroles, or there's classic creme brulee. Everything arrives with a flourish, a chat and a smile.