Posts from the ‘French’ Category

Nov 9

Les Halles Downtown

All that a bistro should be, at least it feels that way. I went all classic
and ordered the hanger steak with frites and a frisee salad with lardons and
blue cheese. Meals like this make me think the Atkins Diet might actually be
doable. But can man live on meat and fat alone? (11/9/02)

Oh, this place always makes me go overboard on fat. The lardon filled
frisee salad with blue cheese heaped crouton-bruschetta would be a
sufficient meal, but I went nuts and also ordered the duck confit with
truffled potatoes. You know, I think I mightve ordered that exact same combo
the last time I visited Les Halles, which wasn't recently at all.

The food is always satisfying, but the service tends to mystify. Waiters
change throughout the meal, drinks are screwed up and then you are never
asked the rest of the evening if youd like another or even how your food is.
There's nothing maliciously poor about any of it, but you get the sense that
no one knows what theyre doing.

I was internally making fun of the young obvious out-of-towners a table
down from us because they wanted vegan items and then the guy just ordered
and ate while his girlfriend watched (I guess she was the no animal product
person). Why would anyone think French food would lend itself to this style
of eating? But then the tables were turned (almost literally) when I tried
to squeeze out of our two-seater without pulling out the table and my tipsy
(I eventually was able to flag down more wine) fat ass barely fit between
ours and the next and I almost fell on my head. Though I still think trying
to order vegan fare in a bistro is more foolish than forcing a large body
into a small space. (6/30/05)

LesHalles
Downtown * John St., New York,NY

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Oct 14

Chez Alexandre

We thought we were being smart, taking our extended Columbus Day weekend in Canada. But Monday morning I suspected something was up when there were too many people out and about and it looked like lots of businesses were closed. We had wanted to try the steak frites at L'entrecoute St. Jacques, but the place was shuttered-up at prime lunch time. It wasn't until I read the Thanksgiving closure notice on a bank door that any of it made sense.

Still in search of steak frites, we settled for Chez Alexandre, down the street. I fear that neighborhood is the Times Square of Montreal (minus the Disney Store and black muslims). The menu didn't seem so remarkable, but the prices indicated as much. Who were we to argue? Choices were scarce and we were in a hurry to get on the road.

The most interesting part of the meal was spying on the middle-aged gentleman in the corner who ordered what appeared to be a gin and tonic, then would periodically hide his glass with his newspaper and pour in smuggled gin from one of those mini airplane bottles. He even had the audacity to ask for more ice at one point, just to top it off with his own spirits. I couldn't begrudge him, he was alone on a holiday (maybe he couldn't wait to get away from the family) and the drinks were probably expensive. I wonder if one gets into some sort of trouble if found out by the waitstaff?

Chez Alexandre * 1454 Peel St., Montreal, Canada

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Oct 13

L’avenue

We couldn't find Beauty's for the life of us, then were talked out of the
place by a young coffee shop guy (who spoke perfectly accentless English to
us, then French to his friend on the phone. It just doesn't seem right, this
French-Canadian act. Everyone's all particular about speaking French,
signage being in French, but they all understand and speak English as well
as the rest of Canada and all of the United States can) who in so many words
said it was overhyped. That, I understand. I don't want to get stuck at like
the Carnegie Deli of Montreal.

L'Avenue was very popular with the locals, and just about everyone else
in town. People seem to love lining up at restaurants and bars in Montreal.
Are there too many people or not enough places to go? The menu was entirely
in French, but I was able to deduce the eggs benedict. Good: you could smoke
all over the place. Bad: the enormous "fruit" salads that came with
everything. Why fruit means 90% melon, I'll never understand.

L'Avenue* 922 Mont-Royal Ave. E., Montreal, Canada

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Oct 13

Fonduementale

I'm keen on the standard cheese fondue, James prefers the chocolate version,
neither of us had tried the shabu shabu ("Chinese," as they call it) style,
so we opted for "The Romantic" sampler. Fondue three ways may be more over
the top than romantic, but to each their own. The whole shebang included an
appetizer of pink peppercorn cheese fondue (or traditional fondue or soup of
the day), beef and chicken Chinese fondue with shrimp, salmon and calamari,
and chocolate (or maple syrup) fondue. The mish mash of influences seemed
rightly French-Canadian, though if we had wanted to really go completely
Canuck, we could've opted for wild game like wild boar in apple oil, caribou
in cedar extract or deer with juniper berries.

Fonduementale* 4325 Rue
St. Denis, Montreal, Canada

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Sep 1

Crepe Place

It was a wedding rehearsal dinner. What more need I say? We were offered a
choice of three crepes, including the amusing Alexander the Crepe (the Crepe
Gatsby, was unfortunately not on our list, though it's on the regular menu).
Oh boy, who could resist. All the 25+ people at the dinner received full
crepes while James and I only got half portions. If I wasn't so tipsy, I
would've been really pissed. Obviously two other people did half orders and
didn't bother to claim them. Were these health-conscious Californians trying
to tell us gluttonous New Yorkers something?

The Crepe Place * 1134 Soquel Ave., Santa Cruz,CA

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Dec 14

Florent

It was another one of those cranky, can't-get-it-together Friday nights.
This time it was James' company Christmas party that put me in a mood. I
don't know why things always have to be a trauma. Instead of the usual
venue, their easily accessible Wall St. office, the party had been moved
uptown to the Children's Museum. Post-dinner festivities were to be held at
some frat bar called the Gin Mill.

My plan was just to show up at the bar for the free drinks part. But
I've never been up to the 80s and tried some random B train that never came
and. By the time I eventually made it uptown, it was midnight, 1 1/2 hours
later, just in time to miss the free drink cut off and be a part of the lame
12:30 last call. I hadn't eaten dinner either, hoping there's be snacks at
least. And believe you me late night dining in this area was a joke. You
don't even want to know how I mad I was.

James tried to save the day by getting his car (the parking lot is
relatively near the neighborhood) and driving me to Florent for mussels and
fries. They did perk me up a bit. I've always been partial to the Belgian
combo at Diner, but Florent's are pretty darn good too. It all depends upon
what borough you're in when the mood strikes. The evening was semi-salvaged.
And like they say you shouldn't go to bed angry, so I didn't. (12/14/01)

Florent * 69 Gansevoort St. New York, NY

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Sep 28

Cafe DeVille

Word to the wise: Don't attempt a nice dinner/date when you're trying to
quit smoking. This mysterious bistro opened catty-corner from James' block
last spring. I say mysterious because it seemed to be open for ages, hosting
private parties with icky attendees and mobster-esque bouncers guarding the
door like hawks. It appeared more like an out-of-place private club than a
real local restaurant. Well, it eventually opened and by then I'd lost
interest. The place seems to be doing decent business with a late 20s to
early 30s crowd (me) who fancy themselves as cultured/trendy (not me). In a
nutshell: lots of blonde stringy hair and khakis, yes khakis. (Well with one
exception. The peculiar group sitting next to us had my mind reeling all
night. There were two scraggly gentlemen in at least their mid-40s with a
teenage boy and girl. They all seemed very un-Manhattan [not that I am
either] but in a dirt-road, middle American sort of way. You'd think
father/child at first, but fathers I know don't rub their 14 yr. old
daughters thighs and tongue them in restaurants [hey, that's what the
bedroom's for]. What was their deal, and why on earth did they choose Cafe
DeVille as a rendezvous?)

It was a random Friday night that James suggested checking the place
out. The reason I'd always shied away was the prices. They're not outrageous
or anything, entrees are in the teens to twenties range, but that's more
than I like to pay for a casual meal (I'm cheap, ok?). It's unspoken, but
when we go out on a weekend and eat at a place that's not in Chinatown or
doesn't serve nachos, James tends to pay. It's not a rule, and I'd like to
say I don't expect it, but to some degree I do. When we order appetizers,
drinks and mains over $12, I semi-expect the credit card to be whipped out
at the end of the evening. Call me old fashioned, but this is how our
relationship has evolved.

I liked the food well enough, my only complaint, well comment is that
it's all presented in this components on a plate fashion. I never know the
appropriate way to meld the flavors. Our appetizer consisted of asparagus, a
Basque Serrano-type ham, walnuts, and…oh jeez I'm already forgetting the
one or two other items, but that was OK as it was a starter and it's fine to
pick at. I had the duck confit and frisee salad, which was overwhelming in
its pieciness. Lettuce all over, a duck leg, a little cup created from
endive, more walnuts, dried cherries and an unidentifiable vegetable(?) that
was green, sort of almond-shaped and seemed like an olive, sort of tasted
like an olive, but had no pit, and instead was filled with tiny seeds. Not
like I'm a produce expert, but I was still baffled. All that cutting,
scooping and combining in order to get the optimum flavor combo on one
forkful can be tough.

So, after a substantial meal, a bottle of wine and some lack of nicotine
bickering, the bill comes and James tells me to put in half. To many that
would be acceptable, to me it was plain passive aggressive, especially since
he knows good and well my checking account is barely on the plus side. I
threw all the money in my wallet at him, about $35, certainly not enough to
cover my half and stormed off in a huff. What a bust. I feel no desire to
return to Cafe DeVille, despite its sharing a name with my favorite Poison
guitarist, C.C.

Cafe DeVille * 103 Third Ave., New York, NY

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Jul 6

Vaux

I've started hitting the Fifth Ave. strip in Park Slope lately, and it
scares me a bit. It's hard to help since it's the closest neighborhood to me
(I don't really live in a neighborhood–just lots of fast food, gas
stations, car washes and porn shops). I don't know, it's just very adult,
and not necessarily in a good way. The new Blue Ribbon had just opened next
door to Vaux, and I was into trying it, but just not this particular
evening.

My shared seafood sausage was alright. My pork loin with mashed potatoes
and haricot vert was also OK. Everything was adequate. No more, no less. I
guess that's Park Slope for you.

Vaux * 278 Fifth Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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Jun 29

Belmondo

I don't have a strong opinion on Belmondo one way or the other. It was
sparsely populated for a Friday night in the East Village, but that could've
had something to do with their lack of air conditioning. It was just
someplace new to try. It's bistro food, but somehow I felt like I shouldn't
be eating, and especially not eating the steak frites (though I ordered them
anyway). Maybe it's just the East Village syndrome (which isn't as bad as
Williamsburg as far as androgyny goes). I'm not always in the mood to be
surrounded by girls (women?) with little boy bodies who couldn't possibly be
eating red meat or fried potatoes to maintain that appearance. Just order
mojitos if you want to fit in. Or get really radical and eat something. It's
up to you.(6/29/01)

Belmondo * 98 Avenue B, New York, NY

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Feb 24

The Crepe Factory

1/2
Closed: The crepes are gone and Cafe Dore, a Caribbean joint, has surfaced.
(4/6/02)

I don't make a practice out of hanging out in the family-ish parts of
Brooklyn (or any city for that matter), but I'd forgotten my bag at work
Friday night since I was in such a hurry to leave. Saturday I had to go back
for it, and since I was in a real car instead of my usual subway car, I
thought it'd be fun to see neighborhoods I never see. This brought me to
Cobble Hill, Carroll Gardens and The Crepe Factory.

I'd really been dying for a crepe for ages, so this was a golden
opportunity. I really should've gotten a sweet one, but since this would be
my first meal of the day at 4pm, I opted for a savory ham and gruyere
delight. It hit the spot, and then some. It was a bit excessive and I can be
a big eater. Not that I'm complaining about large portions. Actually, my
only complaint would be the table of completely ill-behaved, ruckus-making,
precocious little kids with the oblivious liberal mom. But, I guess it was
my own fault for spending a Sat. afternoon in Carroll Gardens, right?

The Crepe Factory * 270 Smith St., Brooklyn, NY

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