Maggie. Jess. Rachel. Siobhan. Heaven. Lila. No we’re not utilising this prime review real estate to make a list of all the people we’ve forgotten to text back. They're some of the names written in looping biro on Casse-Croûte business cards that are plastered across the ceiling of this tiny corridor of a restaurant, each stamped with a flirty lipstick kiss. Romantic meals and tender moments over a towering mille-feuille immortalised in shades of peach, pink, and red. It is one of the many details that you will dutifully swoon over at this French restaurant. Put simply, Casse-Croûte is so charming it hurts. On a corner of Bermondsey Street, it’s home to red and white check tablecloths, a blackboard menu with Garamond calligraphy, and inevitably, London’s highest concentration of Jean-Pierre Jeunet mega-fans. In case the abundance of decorative kisses didn’t give it away, this is somewhere for regaling and romancing. Air kisses between old friends who know the allure of the complimentary slap-dash baguette slices, and red wine anniversary kisses over a plate of saucisson and beaufort d’Alpage. Unless you’re perched on one of the five stools at the ornate wooden bar, you’ll sit shoulder to shoulder on the red banquette seating that offers our favourite kind of intimacy. The kind that lets you salivate over your neighbours’ perfectly pink boeuf en crôute before you order. Every starter, main, and dessert on the daily-changing menu has the capacity to knock you into a butter haze. It’s the kind of rich food that deserves its own sensual audio description involving the word ‘dripping’. You might find milky cuttlefish bathing in a sizzling sweet tomato ragout on Monday, smooth ham terrine on Tuesday, and something blissfully nap-inducing like tender glazed rolls of sliced pork belly come the weekend. If Craig David’s 7 Days was given the Casse-Croûte treatment, the lyrics would involve a whole lot more circumflexes and the word gratinée on repeat. But whichever glorious meat, fish, or onion butter fest this bistro is dishing up on any given day, you’ll also be served a soundtrack of smoky ‘40s singers and saxophone solos. And if you’re in the mood, coupettes of sweet fizz. See, we said Casse-Croûte was charming.