One can’t resist Annie’s glowing downtown storefront, whose huge windows reveal a stunning brasserie of high ceilings, exposed white brick, and chalkboard menus. On nights when there’s live Spanish guitar, it’s even more convincing.

The food, while aiming lower than it could, is pretty solid. Mussels are plump and lovely, served in a broth of butter, white wine, and spicy chorizo bits with parsley. You’ll need to use the shells as spoons so you can sip every last drop—partly because your server might forget your order of hand-cut french fries, even on slow nights. (Also, questions tend to baffle.) But they’ll happily bring you extra homemade French bread, which is terrific. The menu plays it safe: pesto pizza, tomato brie soup, Caesar salad with grilled chicken, vegetable risotto, steak frites. Pan-fried rabbit inspires confidence, and deservedly so. Its spätzle is delightfully crunchy around the edges, but the delicate flavors are trounced by a nervous dousing of whole-grain-mustard sauce. Chicken schnitzel with beautiful blond breading is crispy and lemony and sings with capers judiciously sprinkled on top.

Classic cocktails at the horseshoe-shaped zinc bar are sometimes made to the letter, but don’t ask for much impromptu invention. The small wine list is reasonably edited, but—like the food here perhaps—just isn’t what it could be. In a space like this, that’s hard to palate.