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They’re calling it a French revolution. But this seemingly sudden desire by former city wine bar Monopole to cover the tables with linen and cook from the classic French repertoire is more of an evolution.

Mind you, it’s pretty spectacular stuff, and for this old dog, it’s a backyard I’ve rolled around in and dug up before. ’Twas a time of kirs and quenelles, millefeuilles and vol-au-vents, of silver service and velvet drapes.

And now it is again. Yes, I’ll take a kir, thank you, correctly made with a Burgundian aligote white wine ($18), stained with just enough cassis to mellow, not sweeten.

And a millefeuille d’anguille fume ($26), merci very much; the ultra-fine layers of pressed pastry sandwiched with creamy celeriac and apple remoulade, creamy smoked eel and creamy horseradish cream that is explosively good. And creamy.

At the other end of the meal, the baba au calvados ($22) comes from the same rich-but-light playbook, the yeasty sponge ethereal, the pouring of apple brandy giving it heft, along with a clutch of candied kumquats and Chantilly cream.

When you have classically trained in the French style, it seems a crime not to use that precision and technique to create velvety sauces and bisques and make pastry and charcuterie. Brent Savage credits chefs Mark Best and Jeremy Strode with that part of his journey, but he brings a subtle lightness and brightness of his own. Guillaume Dubois has been installed as head chef, working with Bentley Group exec chef Aiden Stevens, and – for these opening weeks at least – Savage himself, on the pans.

You know you’re in French territory when there is duck on the menu, and duck liver parfait, and a duck burger whose patty uses up the offcuts. The wedge of parfait ($24) is rich but light, shimmering with pink Bandol rosé jelly, and topped with pretty pickles, with grilled bread on the side.

Our “tour de canard” continues with a signature duck a l’orange ($66), an elegant presentation of textbook crisp skin, rosy red meat, and a pool of shallot-sweet, lightly spiced, orange-scented glaze.

And on the wine side – because, with the Bentley group, there is always a wine side – co-owner Nick Hildebrandt indulges his passion for Cote du Rhone, which he calls “a wine for the people”. His collection of that cult liqueur Chartreuse also plays out across cocktails and a mint-green granita.

A smooth, spicy Julien Cecillon Graviers Syrah from the Northern Rhone ($18 glass) teams well with the duck, although it’s a 120ml pour rather than the more welcome 150ml. I know every little bit counts for restaurants these days, but let me just say it’s the same for us diners.

The boudin blanc d’homard is a clever dish, effectively two rounds of steamed light-but-rich marron mousse resting on a classic shellfish bisque with morels and a gnarly little marron tail ($56).

All the sauces here smell of – there’s only one word for it – France. It’s l’odeur de France as well as la tour de France. A glass of Loic Mahe organic chenin blanc ($22) places me firmly in the Loire.

Those who know Monopole won’t be too dismayed by the physical changes. There’s a hint of neon, velvet drapes, linen cloths, candles, and the charm of scallop-edged plates, but it’s just a softer, warmer Monopole, more like a seasonal change of dress.

This is the sort of Frenchiness I adore: to see tarragon and chervil in their natural habitat, to crunch through bitter endive salad with a properly bitey vinaigrette, to dive deep with regional varietals, and to be reminded just how enjoyable a cheese course can be.

Monopole isn’t cranking out the usual bistro or brasserie menu (much as we love them), but takes a fresh look at defining modern French cooking. It might be full circle for Brent Savage and Nick Hildebrandt, but they’re on a roll. Which makes it a revolution, after all.