Outside of french fries, there’s nothing about McDonald’s that makes you envision a Parisian café or some bistro in Marseilles, but that hasn’t stopped the fast food goliath from testing a supposedly France-inspired location in the middle of Manhattan; just convenient enough for me to check out.

It doesn’t really look like a McDonald’s, but then again, this is New York City, where everyday fast food chains often get a facelift to appeal to tourists and locals alike.

Gray metal and pale wood on the outside, unassuming, with a flat McDonald’s McCafe sign posted above the sightline of passers-by.

I walked in and was greeted by one of many employees in black and grey uniforms, with yellow accents to recall the Golden Arches. Nearby, a few corporate types in suits hovered, watching our interaction closely.

“What are you looking for today?” a very nice worker asked me, indicating that I could either head to the bakery side or order lunch from one of the flatscreen kiosks on the wall. The first time through, I decided I’d just get that croissant I’d heard about, that’s what makes this place so French, right?

I was directed to the bakery counter, where the menu — like the others in the restaurant — is a flat screen on the wall.

I ordered from another worker, and she handed me a yellow tag with a number on it, instructing me to take a seat and someone would be around to drop off my order.

The place is filled with updated booths of hard, wood grained plastic, with maroon fabric on the seat-backs and seats, as well as longer, high tables with modern stools of colored metal.

Low hanging lighting and modern gray flooring does make the place feel a bit less like Ronald McDonald’s house, and more like a Panera.

Soon after I took a seat at a back booth, a worker made her way toward me, looking for tag 59. She dropped off my order, but came by a few times to ask me and others nearby if everything was okay.

As for the croissant itself, it was on the small side, but that’s what you get for $1.29. It tasted much like a croissant should — extra flaky, perhaps, though wearing black and eating pastry is never a tidy endeavor — but I doubt the French will be lining up for this thing.

The chocolatine pastry, also $1.29, was a bit better, more moist and less messy to eat. Also, chocolate — as a rule of thumb — is good.

By the time lunch rolled around, the line for the bathroom was getting busy. Maybe these were the folks who can’t handle the office restroom’s lack of privacy.

At some point while I was sitting at my table, a loud, staticky noise came on over some standing speakers that were set up in the corner with what looked like a sound system setup. Is there going to be a concert? Apparently it was going to be some sort of actual press event — no one invited us, honest to god, and I had no real intention of sticking around for a corporate pitch from the Golden Arches folks.

Which is a good thing, because for the 20 minutes or so before I eventually left, we were all aurally assaulted with microphone tests like “Ahh, yeah, yeah. One, two. Yeah, ah, yeah.”

It reminded me for a moment of my days working at Penthouse Forum, to be honest. Not really what I want to be thinking about at McDonald’s.

On my way out, I decided to test out the wall of digital kiosks that let you place an order without dealing with too many human beings.

The ordering boards were pretty self-explanatory: You touch it to start the process, choose whether you want to eat in or take out, and then select from a menu of “Sandwiches & Meals,” with options like “Sweet Treats,” “Beverages,” “All Day Breakfast” and the rest on the side.

After I’d selected chicken nuggets, I then had the choice of whether I just wanted those nuggets or wanted to make it a meal, a drink option, sauces — you’ve ordered food before, you know what happens. The only difference is, I talked to no one.

The computer asked if my order was correct — while helpfully reminding me of how many calories per day the average person should eat — and whether I wanted to pay there or at the counter. I chose there, and was instructed to take a Table Locator and enter the Number.

This was confusing, at first, but a worker swooped in and grabbed the locator from a little box mounted on the wall, and punched its number in. I paid using my chipped card, and went back to my seat.

About four minutes later, a worker brought my order, and I asked him what the deal with the Table Locators was — were they sort of like geolocators, was my position in the restaurant tracked?

“Yes!” he said with a smile.

My McNuggets, well, they tasted like McNuggets, and I ate them. I also got some ketchup packets from a nice worker who stopped by asking if I needed anything. I did feel a bit pampered, which is — I suppose — slightly better than how I usually feel after a trip to McDonald’s.

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