When The Odeon opened in 1980, there was no better place in the city to see and be seen, to party, or to eat fries. An instant hit—halfway between a brasserie and a diner—its gravitational pull drew a glitzy scene of artist-celebrities to Tribeca, like the Saturday Night Live cast and Andy Warhol. Its iconic neon sign is enshrined in a tattoo on Lena Dunham’s butt. The hedonism has cooled, but The Odeon is aging gracefully. It’s still a wonderful place to linger over a meal or drink a martini, and devour cup after silver cup of crisp french fries. The bistro chairs and red leather benches are always packed, even if the regulars look a little different now. Sure, there are chic publishing types in black turtlenecks and vintage designer spectacles sharing oysters, and even a respectable number of famous people. But there are also lots of children, clutching crayons and demanding steaks; and at least one French bulldog repeat customer in a forest green vest. Neither trendy nor stodgy, the neighborhood-friendly menu is built on easy-to-like classics like generously cheesy french onion soup, and burgers (three of them, actually: beef, plant-based, and tuna). The salads are evenly dressed and a purple rice bowl with avocado makes an appearance. Apart from a dry chicken breast here or there, the food is consistently satisfying—and occasionally excellent, even when it doesn't need to be. The secret ingredient here isn't something you can taste, but everything you see around you. Artfully positioned mirrors reflect diners’ faces back at flattering angles. Globe lights shine at a steady low wattage, and an Art Deco clock glows neon pink and green on the wall. Design details inherited from a 1930s cafeteria—terrazzo floors and dark wood paneling—create a sense of timelessness. At The Odeon, it's easy to forget what decade you just left behind on the sidewalk.