With the illustrious name of a sailor’s wife, Olive Davoux embraces the sea in her tiny tumultuous restaurant equipped with a bar and communal tables. The skipper of the former Verre Volé sur Mer patched this vessel back into shape, shortened the name, cleaned up the tiled room and got rid of the neon lights. In her new spot, the young Belgian-Ugandan chef sent out dishes that had us rocking and rolling the night we went: prehistoric vibes with gooseneck barnacles cooked in seaweed butter (€12); Dantean grey shrimp sautéed alive, plus bird’s eye chilies and fresh fennel intermingling with the flavorful shellfish (€10); giant razor clam tartare with sea beans, radish and raw milk cream (€15.50); a nautical terrine of monkfish liver, electrified by a lemon purée, mizuna and rhubarb (€9.50); or an epic teriyaki smoked herring in a red sea of mustard shoots and silky beets (€11.50). Waiting for us at the final port was a buxom chocolate pudding, dressed up with cherries and acacia blossoms (€6). You won’t find Popeye or any spinach in the ship’s hold, but proud wines and good advice instead: a Roussillon Le Fond De l’Air Est Rouge (€6.50 a glass) or a white Bourgogne from De Moor (€45 a bottle). At night, prix-fixe menu for €32. À la carte: €19-42. // M.J.-D.