The Cote d’Azur city of St. Tropez brings to mind luxurious villas, stunning beaches and sun-kissed jet setters clad in those famous leather Tropéziennes sandals. In San Diego, however, the name denotes a string of bistros that recreate some of the culinary riches of the region – fresh-baked quiche, stuffed crepes and frilly patisseries oozing with creamy custard.

The company’s sixth location in Hillcrest took residence earlier this year in what might be considered a jinxed address. The Fifth Avenue storefront has seen the likes of tiresome tofu houses, a fish shop and most recently, the ill-fated Mister Sisters. But if nasally talking waiters and Brie cheese sandwiches carry any power for breaking a property curse, then the new St. Tropez may actually stick around longer than it takes to save up for a vacation to the French Riviera.

The bright café features seating pods separated by wrought iron railings as well as two colorful wall murals of the French countryside. One of the murals carries a semi-vague gay theme of two men standing cozily at a river’s edge wearing Cardigan sweaters and loafers. A single motorbike is parked next to them. The image works more subtly than a rainbow flag in conveying this is a gay-friendly establishment. But then again, when you’re eating vol au vent and opera cake in the heart of Hillcrest, chances are great that you won’t be rubbing elbows with anyone from the Family Research Council.

My dinner companion and I started out with the soup du jour, a very good meatball and spinach concoction that closely resembled Italian wedding soup. A cup of French Onion Gratinee was also pleasing without being heavily crowned with cheese.

Most of the salads on the menu are big enough to split. The Sweet & Savory, for instance, is a prettily arranged lettuce bowl of caramelized pecans, ripe pears, cucumbers and thin, petal-shaped filets of grilled chicken breast, which effectively re-hydrated when they met up with the house’s mellifluous vinaigrette. A warm Goat Cheese salad priced at $9.50 ranks as the premier choice from the category. The cheese is rolled in brick leaves and served with olives and bell peppers.

From the “specialties” section, my companion enthusiastically opted for the Chicken Curry Croissant, but found it “just okay” in the end. I thought it was terrific and advised him to check his temperature. The chicken was moist. And the curry was restrained with cream and a slice of nutty-tasting Swiss cheese. Need I say anything about the quality of the croissant in a place called St. Tropez?

Among three different non-dessert crepes available, I chose the one filled with ham and cheese over the spinach and chicken-mushroom. Perhaps a millimeter thicker than traditional street crepes you’d find in France, the finished product held up to tradition with the inclusion of nutmeg-infused béchamel sauce inside. After wolfing down only one half of the crepe, I began to understand why there aren’t any appetizers listed on the menu.

As heavy creams and airy breads continued filling our stomachs, a shocking revelation occurred. We discovered that our lean and sexy waiter came from the Czech Republic – and that the founder of the company is from Belgium. But our make-believe culinary excursion to St. Tropez hardly faded, as both the food and ambience remained at a high level for San Diego standards.

Intent on picking out only two desserts from the walk-up display case, we ended up with a hatbox of treats that included a chocolate éclair, raspberry tart, coffee-cream bars (known as “opera cake”) plus a hefty croissant that was cool and wet in the middle from a generous dose of almond paste. The daily-made quiches and triple-layer chocolate mousse, we concluded, would have to wait until another visit.