Smooth Sailing

Boy, oh, boy. Is there anybody out there still reading this? After a three week hiatus, it'll be a miracle if so! I have no excuse for not blogging aside from pure laziness... and what's especially shameful is that I had a perfectly lovely dinner at La Voile about which to write.

Out for the night with a few of my girlfriends, we did not have the intention of ending up at La Voile... One friend suggested that we check out 28 Degrees, a hip bar/restaurant in the South End, which was our first destination of the night. We cabbed it together downtown and arrived at 28 Degrees around quarter past eight. Only to be greeted outside the door by a guy who looked barely old enough to get into the place himself. Holding a clipboard and doing his best to look down at us he asked if we had a reservation (we didn't). Immediately, I thought to myself - "great, a long wait." Oh no... no wait. No reservation? No getting in - at all. Were they kidding? This is why we don't live in New York, thank you very much. Once rejected at 28 Degrees, another friend mentioned that she'd once had a great dinner at Masa around the corner. Off we went. At Masa, we were pleased to learn that you didn't need a reservation to get in to the restaurant. You did, however, need one to eat before 10 p.m. Sigh. Not wanting to wait that long, we put our heads together for a brainstorm. While dismayed by our twice thwarted dinner plans, it did make me realized what a serious foodie city Boston had become. Word to the wise? If you are going out on a Saturday night, make a reservation.

Collectively we decided to head towards Newbury Street and try our luck there. On the cab ride over, I used my trusty iPhone to do a little research and came up with La Voile - which also holds a spot on my 2008 wish list. I called en route and was immediately taken back by the gentleman's greeting on the phone, "Bonsoir et merci d'appeler a La Voile, may I help you?" All delivered in a flawless accent. I knew La Voile was a French restaurant (duh), but I didn't know the depth of their committment to authenticity - clearly the host was a native. My - once excellent - French is pathetically rusty at this point, so despite my temptation to do otherwise, I decided to explain our predicament in English. By sheer luck, they'd just had a no-show and could seat us right away. I told him that my name was Courtney and that we'd be there shortly. The cab sped along and we came through the doors of the cozy subterranean space within five minutes, to be greeted by a tall, elegant Frenchman, asking, "Courtney?" I felt like quite the celebrity. As promised, we were shown directly to a table and were sipping Kir Royals before we knew it.

La Voile means "the sail" in French and the restaurant has a sailing/ship theme, but in a generally tasteful way - a painted quote (about sailing) that runs along the border of the ceiling, some old models of sailboats, and antique prints of ships, knots, and marine flags. Unfortunately, they also carried the theme to the busboys, who were required to wear - prepare yourself - a sailor uniform of a striped boat-neck top and wide-leg navy trousers. It was - needless to say - over the top. Additionally, while I appreciate La Voile's committment to keeping true to its French roots, the restaurant also requires the waitstaff to punctuate their dialog with guests with French phrases (for example, when setting a plate: "pour vous, madam..."). This might come off ok if all of the waiters where French. They're not. Ours wasn't and his accent was, let's call it, challenged. Amongst the three of us sitting at the table, two of us have lived in France, so, frankly, a bad French accent is like fingernails on a chalkboard. I would have preferred that he simply addressed us in English. The whole thing gave a slightly fake effect to the restaurant - as though we were having dinner in the France Pavilion at Epcot Center. At any moment, I expected the staff to break into song and dance. The busboys were certainly dressed for it.

Luckily for La Voile, the food was fantastic - nearly obliterating all thoughts of a giant mouse in a beret. First, we started with a selection of amuse bouche, including a gougere (a pastry puff made with Gruyere) and a bite of pâte à choux wrapped around a small piece of sausage. Needless to say, I love when a restaurant brings out free nibbles and these were exceptional - light and savory and melt in your mouth. After some discussion around sharing appetizers versus ordering our own, we settled on the latter. One friend ordered a seared scallop salad and another ordered the endive salad - a bite of each showed excellent preparation (especially with the shellfish) and a nice balance of flavors. My appetizer order started as a bit of a disappointment as they were out of, first, the foie gras terrine, and second, the rabbit terrine. I struggled to pick an alternative option and our waiter jumped in and suggested the foie gras creme brulee. At first, I declined - it sounded heavy and weird. Then I thought, what the heck, I'll go with his recommendation. Good choice. I'd never had a savory creme brulee before, but it was delicious - the creamy custard was smooth and thick, imbued with a deep essence of the foie gras, and the crackly sugar shell perfectly complimented the sweetness of the liver flavor. It was rich, that's for certain, but it was inspired as well.

For an entree, I ordered the seared halibut. Again, the execution was superb - the fish was moist and flaky with a crisp, salty crust. It didn't hurt that it was served with a generous dollop of caviar on top. The fish was laid atop basil mashed potatoes that had a nice bright flavor which was a good balance for the healthy dose of sweet, rich buerre blanc that covered the plate. Again, while decadent, each element of the dish was exceptionally well done - creating a delicious whole. We ended the night with a glass of dessert wine - which we also had to order twice, due to them being out of our first choice - and the tarte tatin. The apple tart was, again, truly authentic with thin slivers of fruit and a delicate pastry crust. It was tasty enough, but no match to the main meal.

I'd give La Voile, at 261 Newbury Street in Boston, an A-. Before getting your heart set on anything on the menu, ask what they are out of, then ask Mickey & Minnie for a recommendation - those mice, they know a thing or two about terrific French food.

Light My Fire

I knew that this list thing was a good idea. After a few failed attempts to find a night that we were all free, my two girlfriends and I finally settled on last Thursday night for a dinner of catching up, gossip, and, hopefully, some tasty food. Having been featured in an early blog entry in which I mercilessly mocked suburban chain restaurants, the girls very kindly offered to let me pick a place in the city! Using my list as a guide, I chose Gaslight - a fair bit of variety on the menu, mid-priced, and an up-and-coming location. And, above all, it had free parking. You did not read that wrong. A restaurant in the South End with free parking. How many times have you gone to dinner in the South End and nearly quit before you got to the restaurant because you were on your fifteenth trip around the block, looking for a place to stick your car? For us three ladies, all of whom would be driving to the restaurant, this perk sealed the deal.

Gaslight is partially subterranean and huge; much bigger and less intimate than I expected. On a Thursday night, it was packed to the gills with a noise level to match the two hundred or so diners in the restaurant. Happily, we had a reservation and were seated right away. The decor was all that is was promised to be - burnished mirrors, brass accents, black & white tile floor, antique Ricard bottles lined up on the molding. It would have felt authentic, if it wasn't so perfect. I'd give Gaslight a few more years of operation, allowing some dust and grime to build up, to really emulate a Parisian brasserie.

Our waitress greeted us soon after we sat and I immediately noticed how pretty she was. Not in an over the top sort of way, but more of a girl next door sort of way. As the night went on, it became painfully clear how much she needed her looks. Things were bad from nearly the first moment. She took our drink orders and returned with them fairly quickly. Great right? It would have been if one of them hadn't been dumped all over the table from a tray tipped so precariously, I actually saw the drink slide right off. Like any good girl next door, she was mortified and truly apologetic. These things happen and we were fully willing to move on without complaint. Well, everyone expect my girlfriend who's drink had been sacrificed to the table gods. We had to remind the waitress that she needed to replace the beer.

Things didn't improve from there. I am reasonably sure that she brought us the wrong dish, though we ordered one of two very similar dishes on the menu, so I can't be certain. We were asked twice if we were done with our half-eaten appetizers, though our plates were full and it was pretty evident that we were still eating. We needed to ask for refills on the coffee, even though we lingered at the table chatting long enough that it was clear that we were looking for an excuse to draw the night out a bit (I know what you're thinking, maybe they were trying to turn the table over... they weren't, the restaurant had substantially cleared by then). Sadly, despite all this, the worst infraction came in our very last interaction with her. Two of us put in cash for our portion of the bill and my second friend asked to put her portion on a card, clearly indicating the amount to the waitress. The credit card slip came back with the full amount of the bill, with the cash already pocketed. We had to have her correct the error and left the restaurant laughing about how my friend would need to check her statement to be sure she wasn't charged twice.

Ok, here I am more than halfway through this post and I haven't mentioned a word about the food. Does that tell you something? Maybe not what you think... the food was good, some of it was even excellent. The service was so bad it colored the whole experience. Unfortunately, just another reminder of how restaurants really need to have all wheels on the track, or the train is never getting out of the station, no matter how shiny the engine.

And Gaslight's engine was awfully shiny. We shared two appetizers, including the Gaslight Salade, which featured haricots verts, roasted pearl onions, and lardons, on a bed of frisee with a light lemony vinaigrette. Overall, the combination of flavors worked nicely, though the haricots verts and the lardons both could have been a little crisper. We also ordered (I thought) the fondue piemontaise, but were served the fromage blanc. Luckily, this dish was subperb! It was essentially a flat crock of melty cheese, dotted with thyme and coarse salt, served with big hunks of toasted baguette. Bread and cheese. What more could you want?

For my entree, I ordered the duck confit - hey, when you're going to go French, go French. The confit was spectacular - it practically came to the table still crackling from it's bath of boiling fat. Oh yeah... confit is not for the light of heart - literally or figuratively. The rich duck meat was served of a bed of shredded chard and orange sections, both of which (the spicy bite of the chard and the tang of the citrus) made for a great balance. The course was also served with roasted new potatoes which were unremarkable, but were a requisite starch, I suppose. The dish's only failing was a heavy hand with the berry sauce served with the confit. While a classic pairing for duck, it was cloyingly sweet and competed too much with the citrus.

We finished the meal with an order of the chocolate beignets to share. The little fritters were almost more like mini molten chocolate cakes and were served with a thimble of creme anglaise to cut the intensity of the chocolate. While the flavor of the dessert was relatively standard, the presentation was creative and it was a tasty enough way to close out the night.

I'd give Gaslight, at 560 Harrison Avenue in the South End, a B+. If you want a city dining experience without a city parking experience, it's a great choice. One word of warning? If your waitress looks like a girl that you wished your brother married, ask for a new table.