Montreal Journal: Au Pied de Cochon

 

Although we would have but two evenings in Montreal, one restaurant from our last visit impressed us enough that we were determined to go again: Au Pied de Cochon, literally “The Pig’s Foot.”

Chef Martin Picard has a cult following that almost any chef would envy. I cannot find a single negative review of the place. Maybe it’s because Picard is bribing diners with the most fattening foods imaginable, and serving them in eye-popping combinations no one else would dream of.

I wrote a fairly detailed eGullet post the last time we visited, so  I won’t repeat the background. The only thing that’s new since then is that Martin Picard now has his own cookbook. Like everything else at Au Pied de Cochon, Picard did it his own way, and published the book himself.

And the restaurant is, if anything, even harder to get into. We booked our table a few weeks in advance, but all they could offer me on a Saturday evening was 6:00 p.m., and we had to vacate the table by 8:00. This didn’t deter us: for all of the restaurant’s charms, it is really not a place to linger. The space is cramped, loud, and not especially comfortable.

We had the same server as last time, and once again he advised that an appetizer to share would probably be ample, given the vast portion sizes. I didn’t take note of our wine selection, but the list seemed more expensive than last time. We settled on a respectable red for $65.

We started with the Plogue à Champlain ($23; above), a hunk of foie gras with a buckwheat pancake, bacon, onions, potatoes, and maple syrup. The server explained that a friend of Picard had served this to him at breakfast, and he was so thunderstruck that he added it to the restaurant’s menu. And it was good enough to make you think that God made foie gras and maple syrup to be eaten together every morning.

 
Pot-au-feu ($60) is one of the few dishes actually advertised as being a portion for two. It’s traditionally a fairly humble dish, but you can count on Picard to spruce it up with foie gras, prairie oysters, and Guinea Hen, along with typical ingredients like boiled beef, bone marrow, and vegetables. We thought that the beef and vegetables turned out especially well, while the Guinea Hen didn’t really repay the effort to pry off the bone what little meat was left.

When we visit Montreal, there’s always a feeling of “so many restaurants…so little time.” But with much of the menu at Au Pied de Chochon still unexplored, it will probably still be a must-visit the next time we come to Montreal.

Au Pied de Cochon (536, rue Duluth Est, Montreal)

Food: **
Service: *
Ambiance: *
Overall: **

Montreal Journal: La Chronique

 
Interior shot (left); Chefs Marc de Canck and Olivier de Montigny (right)

My girlfriend and I spent a fun long weekend in Montreal last year. We enjoyed it so much that she suggested a return visit to celebrate my birthday. The question was: where to eat? Last time, we had a terrific meal at Toqué, and we wanted another meal in that class. An eGullet contributor suggested La Chronique.

The restaurant, located well apart from the central business district, occupies a fairly humble-looking space that belies the ambitious food. Belgian chef Marc de Canck has been at the helm since it opened in March 1995, joined more recently by his assistant Olivier de Montigny. It has garnered a mention in various international publications, including a favorable write-up from New York Times critic Eric Asimov in 1999.

The à la carte menu offers appetizers from CA$15–25 and entrées $34–45; there are only about half-a-dozen of each. We chose the seven-course degustation for $100 per person, with wine pairings another $50 or $100 (we had the latter). The explanations of the wines were unusually detailed, extending at times to full-blown tasting notes à la Wine Spectator.

I present the menu selections and paired wines below in French, followed in each case by our notes: 

 

La mise en bouche en surprise du moment [above left]

La Lotte farcie de homard, crème de ptd et pois verts à la truffe [above right]
France, Saint-Aubin 1^er Cru Les Frionnes, Hubert Lamy 2004

The amuse-bouche was a small daub of gravlax with crème fraîche. The first appetizer was a fairly complex presentation of monkfish stuffed with lobster, with a potato foam, green peas, and purple basil. The lobster had a nice sweeness, balanced by peach and almond notes in the paired wine.

 

Bar de ligne rôti, ravioli d’artichauts et sa vinaigrette tiède aux tomates séchées [above left]
France, Sancerre, Les Culs De Beaujeu, François Cotat 2005

La noix de ris de veau aux cèpes, foie gras et courge musquée [above right]
Amerique, Santa Rita Hills, Foley Pinot noir, Foley Estate 2005

Next came artichoke ravioli with red peppers and dried tomatoes, accompanied by the very smooth François Cotat Sancerre, which offered hints of grapefruit, green tea, aged in oak. I’m no great fan of artichokes, but I could appreciate the artistry of the dish.

After that, sweetbreads and foie gras in a chocolate and butternut squash purée. If you put so many ideas into one dish, the result could very well be mush. Instead, our note at the time was: “This is incredible.” The accompanying pinot noir offered hints of cherry and vanilla.

 

Le duo de boeuf Angus, endive caramélisée et girolles [above left]
Italie, Bolgheri, Ornellaia, Tenuta san Giudo 2002

Le plateau de fromages fermiers d’ici et d’ailleurs [above right]
Italie, Monferrato Rosso, Pin, La Spinetta 2003

The last savory course was a filet of black angus beef, with a braised beef tail, braised endive, onion, and veal jus. This seemed less memorable than some of the other dishes. The accompanying Italian wine came with a tasting note that almost defied detection by mere mortals: black olives, leather, plum, blackcurrant, strawberry, and cherries.

The server brought around a cheese platter, from which we chose six, all of which were wonderful, including a couple of unpasteurized cheeses that could not legally be served in the U.S.. The tasting note for the wine: tobacco, coffee, chocolate, red fruits, and blackcurrant. 

La clafoutis aux pêches, caramel salé et glace vanille
France, Barsac-Sauternes 1^er Cru, Château Climens 1995

Dessert was a light pastry with peaches, salted caramel, and vanilla ice cream, along with a sauterne. Tasting note: pineapple, mango, fig, and honey.

Service throughout was first-rate, and the timing of the courses—always tricky with a tasting menu—was just about right. The food at La Chronique has a bit less of the “wow” factor than at Toqué, but it must surely be one of the top handful of dining experiences in Montreal.

La Chronique (99 rue Laurier Ouest, Montreal)

Food: ***
Service: **½
Ambiance: **
Overall: **½

26 Seats

There’s no mystery behind the name 26 Seats: it’s the capacity of a sweet little East Village restaurant. It’s the kind of quiet French bistro that we like to think the Parisians have on every street. New York ought to have more like it. In the Times, Eric Asimov liked it too, when he reviewed it for $25 and Under in April 2001.

A friend and I had a leisurely dinner there last week. The menu had few surprises, but it’s nice (for a change) to walk into a place where you’re not greeted by a hostess at a computer terminal, where the person seating you remembers your reservation without having to look it up in a book, and where an 8:00 table is yours for the evening.

It’s friendly on the pocketbook too, with appetizers $6–8, entrées $11–16.50,  and desserts $6.50. Wines, I believe, were around $7 a glass for a generous pour, and the server happily accommodated us when, near the end of the evening, we asked to split a glass.

I ordered a duck confit (around $14), which was nothing special, but at that price one can hardly complain. Service was professional and friendly. The space is cozy, but perhaps that is part of the charm.

26 Seats (168 Avenue B between 10th & 11th Streets, East Village)

Food: *
Service: *½
Ambiance: *
Overall: *

Bouley

Note: This is a review of Bouley at its former location on West Broadway. Click here for a review of the new location, to which the restaurant moved in November 2008.

My mom and I had dinner at Bouley last week. I had already been to the restaurant twice before, including a visit last summer, when two colleagues and I were most impressed with the tasting menu. This time, we ordered à la carte.

I loved my appetizer, described on the menu as “Organic Connecticut Farm Egg Steamed with Black Truflle, Serrano Ham, Parmesan Reggiano and 25-Year Old Balsamic Vinegar” ($22). This is typical of a Bouley dish, with a large number of ingredients and a cooking style not anchored to any one region. It all fits together, and never feels too busy or over-engineered.

The entrée was Baby Pig ($42)—not currently listed on the website, so I can’t quote every ingredient. If a little less clever than the appetizer, I was nevertheless pleased with the careful preparation, with the crispness of the skin contrasting the tender flesh underneath.

Dessert was excellent: “Tahitian Vanilla-Nishiki Rice Pudding with Tropical Fruit Compote and Yuzu Sorbet” ($13). On top of that, there were several bonus courses: the amuse bouche (a tomato gazpacho), pre- and post-dessert, and petits-fours. We were, of course, sent home with the signature sponge cake, which I enjoyed for breakfast the next morning.

The wine list is lengthy, expensive, and generally French. The Saint Domingue we ordered ($90) was excellent, and the staff kept our glasses filled without my ever having to touch the bottle—a degree of pampering worth mentioning only because it is so rare.

A few years ago, there was a sense that the front-of-house at Bouley was letting down the kitchen. Several lapses—unforgivable at a restaurant purporting to offer a four-star experience—were cited in Frank Bruni’s demotion review three years ago. I myself had noticed some minor infelicities in two previous visits, but on this occasion the staff had it just about perfect.

There is, I suppose, a certain sense that David Bouley is no longer innovating—that he is too busy opening new places to really focus on his flagship restaurant. But there is a certain sense of refinement and polish at Bouley that very few restaurants can match.

Update: A few weeks later, I was back at Bouley with a colleague. We had the tasting menu with wine pairings. All of the food was polished and refined, but there really wasn’t any “wow” in it. I once again felt that the service was rushed, as it had been the last time I had a tasting menu here. Given the track record over multiple visits, I’ve at last concluded that 3 stars is the correct rating, not the the 3½ stars I had awarded previously.

Bouley (120 West Broadway at Duane Street, TriBeCa)

Food: ***
Service: ***
Ambiance: ***
Overall: ***

Le Périgord

Note: Click here for a more recent review of Le Périgord.

In a town where a five-year-old restaurant can seem old, Le Périgord is a survivor. Open since 1964, it is one of the city’s few remaining classic haute French restaurants. Actually, if you’re looking for a certain kind of French elegance, Le Périgord and La Grenouille are your only options. I found La Grenouille fair-to-middling when I visited a few months ago, so I thought it was time to give Le Périgord a try.

For the record, Le Périgord currently carries a two-star rating from The New York Times, per William Grimes in 2000. An oft-reviewed restaurant, it has ranged between one and three stars, depending on the critic and the year. First one critic would find Le Périgord over-the-hill; then, a new chef would arrive, and shake things up. Jacques Qualin, the chef when Grimes reviewed it, left in 2003, replaced by Joel Benjamin, whom I assume is the man in charge today (his name is not on the menu).

The space has never been as lovely as the rival Grenouille. Grimes found it looking much better after a 2000 renovation, but it nevertheless seems a little dull. The curtains don’t quite have the sheen that they should; the lighting, neither bright nor dim, doesn’t help. There’s an “old smell,” as if the space hasn’t had a good airing out. But the banquettes are comfortable, the tables set elegantly.

The Friday before Memorial Day was probably not a typical evening. No more than eight tables were occupied, most of them with patrons not younger than 70. The captain assured me that there’s normally a more varied dinner crowd, as I expect there would be with the United Nations located just a few blocks to the south. Only a skeleton service staff seemed to be on duty on this holiday-weekend evening, but they were attentive and friendly.

The menu for dinner is $65 prix fixe, about $30 less than La Grenouille, although numerous dishes carry supplements. Many of the menu choices are classic French staples. A few choices break that pattern, such as a Kobe-style ribeye.

The wine list wasn’t nearly as over-priced as I expected, but there were very few half-bottles. Make that almost none. There were about a half-dozen choices by the glass, but I wanted a half-bottle, so I landed on a Pouilly-Fuissé basically by default. It turned out to be a wonderful wine to go with fish, so I was none the worse for the lack of choice.

I wasn’t very encouraged when the butter that came with the bread service was rock-hard, clearly sliced long before I arrived, and stored in the fridge. But the food turned out to be very good indeed.

To start, smoked salmon in a pastry crust was beautifully presented, and the vegetable garnish was most enjoyable.

I was especially impressed with the sea bass entrée. The skin was crisp, and the flesh tender. The sauce was described as champagne and caviar. I detected no caviar, but with the fish prepared so immacuately, it hardly mattered.

Four soufflés are available ($6 supplement, and you have to order them before dinner): chocolate, black currant, grand marnier, and armagnac. I chose the armagnac soufflé, which initially looked a lot prettier than the photo shows, before the server split it open and poured a hot armagnac sauce at the table.

It’s probably no accident that restaurants offering classic French cuisine are going the way of the dinosaur: it’s a style of dining that no longer appeals to many diners. Truth to tell, I don’t choose it very often myself. But when I’m in that mood, it’s nice to know that places like Le Périgord are still there.

Le Périgord (405 E. 52nd Street, east of First Avenue, Turtle Bay)

Food: ***
Service: **½
Ambiance: **½
Overall: ***

FR.OG

Note: Didier Virot left FR.OG in late 2007 to open a new restaurant in the Plaza Hotel. Jarett Brodie was his replacement. In a move of dazzling subtlety, the owners finally dropped the period from the restaurant’s title, and added a new basement lounge called “Origine.” Did they believe that a mere period was enough to change this restaurant’s fortunes? As of October 2008, it was closed. In December, it briefly re-opened as FROG Café. That move didn’t work either.

*

FR.OG is the latest offering from Chef Didier Virot with partner Philip Kirsh, who also own the restaurant Aix on the Upper West Side. Aix had its share of pains, as Virot’s upscale cuisine wasn’t a good fit for the neighborhood, and the place was later re-imagined as a more casual brasserie. FR.OG doesn’t appear to be off to a good start, either. It scored a rare pan from Restaurant Girl, and landed on the Eater Deathwatch just eight days after it opened (about a month ago, as I write this).

Bread Service
 

Cucumber Tomato SaladThe name, which is hardly appetizing, stands for “France Origine.” The theme is the cuisines of nations that have been inspired by the French, although the primary influence on display seems to be Moroccan. The décor is SoHo Chic, and could as easily be home to an ice cream parlor or a tapas bar. Eater justifies the early deathwatch with the explanation that no restaurant of this kind has survived.

I’m not ready to write off FR.OG just yet, but it needs to get better. We were pleased with the bread service—warm sliced pita with dipping sauce—but the visual presentation left a lot to be desired.

I started with the cucumber tomato salad with yogurt lime dressing and cilantro ($10). Consistent with the evening’s theme, the dish was enjoyable to eat, but the plating wasn’t pretty to look at.

Braised Lamb shank with Roasted Duck Breast

But that salad plating was worthy of Picasso compared to the entrée, a braised lamb shank with roasted duck breast, with cinnamon, chickpea, red onion, and Moroccan couscous ($28). The shotgun wedding of lamb and duck seemed bizarre, and the distinctly unappetizing presentation on the plate looked like slop. Having said that, Virot did a terrific job with the couscous and the duck. The lamb shank tasted just fine, but there didn’t seem to be any attempt to impart any flavor beyond what ordinary kitchen braising would produce.

Platings are indeed the problem here. Restaurant Girl complained about the phallic-looking Colossal Shrimp, which looked just as absurd in person as it did on her blog.

The wine list at FR.OG has some truly intriguing choices at good prices. We loved a 2003 Mas de la Dame ‘Le Stele’, from Provence, a region not often featured in restaurants. The appellation, Les Baux de Provence, was unfamiliar to me, but the 40/60 Cabernet/Syrah blend was the evening’s highlight.

The SoHo crowd was late to arrive, but by 9:30 p.m. or so, the space was nearly full, and by then we could only barely hear ourselves talk. Come to think of it, we were shouting and cupping our ears for most of the evening. FR.OG isn’t particularly pleasant.

The food has potential, but it needs some fine-tuning. At least, it is not terribly expensive. Appetizers are $9–18, entrées $24–36. We skipped dessert, and headed over to p*ong.

FR.OG (71 Spring Street between Lafayette & Crosby Streets, SoHo)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: Fair
Overall: *

Brasserie Ruhlmann

Brasserie Ruhlmann got on my “ought-to-try” list after I heard that Laurent Tourondel had taken over the kitchen. Perhaps I ought to have been suspicious.

Laurent Tourondel has spread himself thinner than goose liver pâté. He has four other Manhattan restaurants in his BLT franchise (BLT Steak, BLT Prime, BLT Fish, and BLT Burger), a fifth opening this summer (BLT Market), and BLT Steak outposts in two other cities. He’s built up that empire in just a shade over three years, so he can’t be spending much time in any of his kitchens.

Brasserie Ruhlmann was a quick rescue job. The restaurant opened in January 2006 with another executive chef, and Tourondel was named to the post just three months later. I assume Tourondel got a tidy consultant’s fee to design a standard-issue French brasserie menu that he could hand over to a chef de cuisine, and never think about again. His name is on the menu and his cookbook prominently displayed, but there’s none of the inspiration that make the BLT restaurants so impressive. (Update: Tourondel has yet another offspring: BLT Steak in the Westchester Ritz-Carlton.)

Brasserie Ruhlmann is named for the art deco furniture designer Émile-Jacques Ruhlmann. Owner Jean Denoyer is a Ruhlmann collector himself, and he spent $5 million building out the spectacular space on Rockefeller Plaza, where the art deco theme is always at home. Denoyer knows a little something about restaurants too, as he also owns the Michelin-starred La Goulue on the Upper East Side (among other places).

Alas, the kitchen just goes through the motions. You’ll have a satisfactory meal at Brasserie Ruhlmann, but nothing you can’t have at many other French brasseries around town, or indeed at La Goulue, where the food is better, and the atmosphere feels far less like a tourist trap.

We arrived at around 8:00 p.m. on a Saturday night, with the restaurant nearly deserted. It seemed like a nice evening, so we decided to sit outdoors. Drinks—a sidecar for me, a whiskey sour for my girlfriend—took twenty minutes to arrive. The manager explained that they’d never heard of a sidecar, and had to look it up. After all that time, they served my girlfriend whiskey straight-up, rather than a whiskey sour. We sent it back.

By now, it was 8:25. Though we had only just started sipping our cocktails, naturally they were keen to take our wine and food order instantly, but we were having none of that. When we finally did order, the wine came promptly, but the waiter struggled to uncork it. After a minor skirmish, he managed to push the cork into the bottle. With a sheepish look, he disappeared.

Meanwhile, the rains had come, so we headed inside. A short while later (it was now 9:00), he returned to our new table with the wine in a decanter—“very well filtered,” he assured us.

Complain all you want about Laurent Tourondel, but the bread service is always superb at his restaurants. Gougères (above, right) were perhaps the most original item we had at Brasserie Ruhlmann.

Country Pâté (left); Beef Shortribs Bourguignonne (right)

Country Pâté ($12) was competently prepared, although fairly ordinary. Beef Shortribs Bourguignonne ($28) were served in a generous portion, though the sauce was a bit heavy. (The photo doesn’t do it justice—beef seldom photographs well.)

After the comic mishaps with the drinks, the rest of the evening’s service was just fine. On principle, we thought that the drinks should have been comped—but they weren’t. The restaurant was nearly empty while we were there. It is probably busier and livelier at lunch, as at dinner time there’s usually no reason to be in the area. So far, it doesn’t look like Brasserie Ruhlmann will change that.

Brasserie Ruhlmann (45 Rockefeller Plaza, 50th Street between Fifth & Sixth Avenues, Rockefeller Center, West Midtown)

Food: Satisfactory
Service: Mediocre
Ambiance: Good
Overall: Satisfactory

Table d'Hôte

What is it with Carnegie Hill and small French bistros? About a year ago, the Times published a profile of the neighborhood’s better restaurants. Three of the five mentioned were French bistros within a square block of 92nd and Madison. What also stood out was that, although this is one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Manhattan, it apparently does not suport expensive restaurants: none of the Times recommendations was particularly pricey.

For now, the neighborhood’s best known restaurant is Sfoglia, but thanks to Frank Bruni’s rave review a few weeks ago, you can forget about getting in there on anything less than a month’s notice. When I had an evening engagement in the area last week, I chose Table d’Hôte instead, partly because I knew my guest had a weak spot for anything French.

Table d’Hôte is a tiny restaurant, with only about ten or twelve small tables. It appeals to a slightly older crowd: my friend and I, both in our 40s, seemed to be among the youngest patrons. There’s nothing fancy about the décor, although it might remind you of about a hundred places you’ve seen on the side streets in European cities.

The menu is a mixture of French and Moroccan favorites. If you order à la carte, appetizers are $8.00–$13.50, and entrées are available either in tasting portions at $14.00–17.50, or full portions of $19.00–26.00. A $26.50 prix fixe gets you a soup or green salad, a tasting portion of an entrée, and dessert.

We had a $23.50 prix fixe, offered only from 5:00–7:00 p.m. with more limited choices: green salad or purée of vegetable soup to start; chicken paillard, hangar steak, or seared salmon to continue; and crème caramel or ice cream for dessert. I probably had the better of it with the vegetable soup, which was creamy and delicious. But chicken paillard was a bit too dry, while my friend’s hangar steak was rare and tender.

The wine list, though short, had a number of bargains (comparatively speaking), and we were pleased with a Crozes–Hermitage for $38. The bill for two was $85 before tax and tip, which these days isn’t bad at all.

Table d’Hôte (44 East 92nd Street between Madison & Park Avenues, Carnegie Hill, Upper East Side)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: *
Overall: *

Daniel

Note: Click here for a more recent review of Daniel.

My girlfriend and I had dinner at Daniel last Saturday night, the first visit for both of us. Daniel (pronounced “dahn-YELL”) is one of three French restaurants carrying the top honor of four stars from The New York Times. It is also the only remaining four-star restaurant not yet reviewed by Frank Bruni, the current critic.

The only clue to what Bruni might think of Daniel came in a December 2004 Diner’s Journal piece about one of chef Daniel Boulud’s other restaurants, Cafe Boulud:

I dropped by Cafe Boulud the other night. I went because I had recently visited the chef Daniel Boulud’s other two Manhattan restaurants but not this one, which happens to be many of my acquaintances’ hands-down favorite of the three. I can see why. It doesn’t have the starched self-consciousness of Daniel or the cheeky swagger of DB Bistro Moderne.

The reference to “starched self-consciousness” is entirely typical of Bruni, and suggests he doesn’t find Daniel as exciting as his predecessors did. Given his many other comments about similar restaurants, it also suggests that he simply doesn’t enjoy this style of dining.

We found nothing starchy about Daniel, except for whatever the laundry put in the table cloths. We found it polished, professional, and nearly perfect. It is perhaps the most “old school” of the three four-star French restaurants, which may explain Bruni’s hostility to it, and may also explain why Daniel received just two Michelin stars, while Le Bernardin and Jean Georges received three.

I’ve got the time only for a whirlwind tour of our meal at Daniel. We started with a tray of petits-fours (above, right). We continued with the six-course tasting menu ($155) with wine pairings ($75).

There were two choices for each course. We agreed on the first: Foie Gras Terrine (above, left), which was excellent, although not as special as the Foie Gras Brulé we so much enjoyed at Jean Georges. But foie gras can’t really be screwed up. We order the foie gras whenever a tasting menu offers it (which they usually do), and we’re seldom disappointed.

For me, next up was the Yuzu Marinated Snapper (above, right), which I found far too bland—the only dud of the evening. My girlfriend chose the Crab Salad, of which I had a taste. This was delightful, and put the marinated snapper to shame.

At the risk of being boring, I’ve nothing to say about Wild Mushroom Ravioli (above, left), except again that it was excellent. So was Dover Sole, which we attacked so quickly that I forgot to photograph it.

Last among the savory courses was the Due of Dry-Aged Beef (above,right). The “duo” is ribeye and short rib. It’s evidently one of Chef Boulud’s signature items, as it’s always on the menu. I always say that even a four-star restaurant can’t do steak like a good classic steakhouse, but this was one of the better “fine dining” renditions of steak that I’ve had.

We diverged again for the desserts; mine is the one on the left, hers the one on the right. We were feeling plenty festive by this point, and I’m afraid the desserts didn’t make much of an impression. You can see the photos and imagine them for yourself.

A wonderful tray of sweets and a bowl of warm sugar puffs (both pictured at right) concluded our meal on a high note.

I have not noted the wines, but this was one of the better pairings we’ve had, both as to the quality and the progression from one pour to the next.

Throughout the evening, we were thoroughly impressed with the service. It was never pompous or obsequious, simply correct in every possible way.

Daniel has a larger dining room than the other four-star restaurants, and there is a very large serving brigade. But they move through the room quietly and efficiently, never noticeable except when they should be.

The room won’t be to all tastes. We found it a bit over-the-hill, although we were impressed with the custom-designed bone china.

Except in Frank Bruni’s mind, there is nothing wrong—or at least, there shouldn’t be—with doing classic things well. We won’t visit Daniel every week, or even every year. When we are in the mood for that special kind of elegance, it’s wonderful to know that it’s there.

Daniel (60 E. 65th Street west of Park Avenue, Upper East Side)

Food: ****
Service: ****
Ambiance: ***½
Overall: ****

Paradou

The outdoor garden at a quieter moment than we experienced it

When Paradou opened in mid-2001, the Meatpacking District had not yet completed its metamorphosis from a seedy industrial district that was home to more prostitutes than restaurants, into the bastion of high-concept tourist dining that it has now become. It’s hard to name many Meatpacking restaurants that can be seriously recommended chiefly for their food. Paradou, which means “paradise,” is one of the few.

That’s not to say that Paradou hasn’t succumbed somewhat to the spirit of the neighborhood. When Eric Asimov of the Times reviewed it in January 2002, it was just a tiny Provençal bistro serving wine and sandwiches, with scarcely more than about half-a-dozen tables. It now has a large outdoor garden that’s enclosed during the winter, turning Paradou into a full-size restaurant. That garden might be pleasant for al fresco dining in the summer, but it entirely lacks the charm of the intimate front room. Tables are scrunched together, and on a Saturday night the space got noisy indeed.

Beet Tarte TatinSince the early reviews, Paradou has also added a new chef, Kfir Ben-Ari, who has expanded the offerings considerably. The menu changes seasonally, and prices are in a fairly wide range. Appetizers are $7 (soup du jour) to $30 (caviar). Entrees are $19 (chicken) to $76 (a thick-cut veal chop and a whole lobster for two). Side dishes are $6, desserts $6–9. There’s a serious cheese program, presented on a separate menu, which we didn’t sample.

I started with the Beet Tarte Tatin, which validated my new addiction to beet appetizers. As usual, beets were paired with goat cheese, this time atop a puff pastry, with walnuts and other garnishes hovering near the edge of the plate. 

My girlfriend had the French Onion Soup, which I didn’t try, but it looked hearty enough, and she seemed pleased.

Poisson du JourMonkfish was the Poisson du Jour, here served on a bed of black beans and topped with carrots. I found the fish just slightly chewy, but the combination as a whole worked well. My girlfriend, who was in a steak mood, was happy with the Entrecôte with Potato Gratin.

The kitchen managed to keep things moving well despite the Saturday night crowds. Servers and runners were attentive, but seemed a bit rushed, and several times dropped things (nothing important) on the floor, like silverware and menus.

In an unusual arrangement, Paradou offers a considerable number of wines by the quarter or half-liter, in addition to a larger selection by the bottle, with a quarter-liter being good for about two glasses. In the Times, Eric Asimov found this format inconvenient, but the quarter-liter prices seem more than fair. We ordered a full bottle, which unfortunately didn’t please us, but I don’t hang that on the restaurant.

Paradou has worked hard to remain relevant in a neighborhood dominated by fancier neighbors. On Saturday mornings, there are cooking lessons ($40) for children under 5 (Times story here). The weekend brunch special ($25) includes “all you can drink” Belinis, Mimosas, and Kir Royales. A Monday to Thursday weeknight special from 6:00–7:30 p.m. ($20.07) offers a plate of cheese, paté and salumi with a glass of red or white wine.

I wouldn’t say we were wowed by anyting we had at Paradou, but I suspect the restaurant is a lot more pleasant on weeknights, when it isn’t overrun by the Meatpacking Crowd.  The hearty Provençal fare may not be remarkable, but it deserves to be taken seriously, in a neighborhood where so little else can be.

Paradou (8 Little West 12th Street between Ninth Avenue and Washington Street, Meatpacking District)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: no stars for the garden in wintertime
Overall: *