Au Petit Paris inhabits a converted bungalow with Provençal-yellow walls that are filled with black-and-white photos of Paris. The Guimard-inspired Art Nouveau sign is convincing, as is the menu of bistro classics. But on a busy night, the tiny restaurant is so noisy with loud Americans that the din can drown out all Gallic pretenses; the lovely patio tries to sustain the illusion, despite the telltale Houston climate.

But the first bite of foie gras terrine—now there’s your ticket: a creamy slice of fat mosaic topped with a thick yellow layer of…more fat. Somehow, the elements do not separate, and a little balsamic vinegar balances the richness. This feels like France. Regulars might find themselves bored with the unchanging selection, and may notice an inconsistency—sometimes it’s stellar, sometimes hardly appealing. At best, even banal seared scallops, accented with a sliver of bacon wedged in their flesh and served on a purée of cauliflower, curry, and mustard, have exotic depth. Roast chicken tartlet with leek and caramelized onion, rack of lamb with Dijon mustard sauce, and duck confit are winners; equally accomplished are simple desserts, like a fluffy chocolate mousse infused with Grand Marnier. The wine list is small, serviceable, and affordable, and you’d do well to stick close to the Rhône, Alsace, or Languedoc. After all, when in France...