Restaurant review, Clinton Hill's Three Letters Tries to Redefine the Brooklyn Bistro.

The 1960s Gallic posters on the wall signaled that we were about to eat in a bistro. But what, exactly, is a French bistro in Brooklyn these days? Certainly not a predictable collection of recipes like steak frites, skate in black butter, and onion soup. Though the menu at Three Letters—so-called in a nod to the length of the co-owners' first names—seethes with words like rissoles, confit, and a misspelled bourguignon, the place playfully revamps these dishes, acting as if Clinton Hill were the westernmost ville of France.

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