Yes, we live in a robust and vibrant wine region. But slip through the doors of David Butler’s wine bar and you’ve decamped to France. Large blackboard menus list vins blanc and rouge; pure anecdotal evidence suggests most visitors don’t arrive knowing a santenay blanc from a chiroubles. The gifted staff is ready with as much—or as little—context as you need to find just the right glass. Food hovers in that happy place between snack and full-on meal, every last steak tartare and poisson en papillote perfectly Parisian.