In this new series for T, the author Reggie Nadelson revisits New York institutions that have defined cool for decades, from time-honored restaurants to unsung dives.

Before there was Balthazar or Lucky Strike or Odeon, there was Raoul’s.

In the early ’70s, you’d be out of luck if you wanted to get food late at night in SoHo, except for at a couple of bars and maybe Dave’s Luncheonette down on Canal and Broadway. Then, in 1975, a pair of Alsatian brothers, Serge and Guy Raoul, opened a bistro in what had been an old Italian restaurant on Prince Street. They served steak frites and poireaux vinaigrette, oysters and duck — and plenty of red wine.

At first, locals dribbled in. Later, the word got out and even the tourists were admitted. There were artists, actors and filmmakers. Everyone talked art and indie film; everyone smoked and did drugs and drank all night. Being there, you knew you had somehow joined some inner New York circle. When I moved to SoHo, in the ’80s, I spent a lot of nights at Raoul’s.