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When was the last time you stumbled on, or into, a great restaurant? It’s the foodie’s curse to know about every new place to try, and why.

That’s what put four of us in a far north Chicago neighborhood, hoping to score platters of mussels, venison ribs and craft beers at Hop Leaf (5148 N Clark Street.) Hop Leaf is a first come, first serve tavern and Saturday night we hit a two hour wait. The bar was so crowded it wasn’t even worth staying for one of those enticing house brews. www.hopleaf.com.

Winter in Chicago is no time to be traipsing an unfamiliar neighborhood looking for a place to eat, but that’s what we did, sloshing and slipping north on Clark Street, from Uptown to Andersonville. Our friend Keith wanted to try Great Lake pizza and knew it was nearby. Jacqui called; there we’d have a 15 minute wait to be seated.

We arrived, and indeed, they would seat us at some point. Problem is, there’s no place to wait inside Great Lake. That’s an observation, not a complaint: Great Lake is spare, serene and holds only an eight-seat communal table. (1477 W. Balmoral Avenue.)

We spilled back into the cold wet night and found, next door, an inviting bistro with not one person sitting at the bar. Surely we four could sit, drink, talk and wait for our table at the ethereal pizza place.

Where were we? Vincent, 1475 W. Balmoral Avenue.

Waiters passed us, bearing platters of mussels. Isn’t that what I’d set out for? A couple sat down beside us at the bar and ordered dinner: more mussels, and frites, and batter-fried haddock. Why leave? The bartender was efficient, charming and knowledgeable. With its mirrored bar and tiled floors, I thought the place Parisian. Jacqui, a Parisian, declared it New York, like Raoul’s. We New Yorkers agreed, but this place seemed spiffier.

We canceled pizza and stayed at Vincent’s bar. What a meal!

Moules frites ($19) five ways. I went for the Provençal, a broth of white wine, tomato, caper, olive, garlic, anchovy. Five days later I’m still dreaming of that broth, their Long Island sourced mussels (long, meaty) and the hunk of baguette served alongside, to mop up the broth. A generous side of salty frites fed all four of us. More perfection: the bartender paired my meal with a crisp Riesling.

Foie gras, duck cassoulet, endive salad and more: this is bistro food at its best. Now that I know it’s there, I can’t wait to return. www.vincentchicago.com.