Rino

Hooray for birthdays—a great excuse for a food extravaganza and a chance to try another bistro on our exceedingly long list:  Rino.  Ever since we saw Giovanni  Passerini show off his ravioli-making skills at the Omnivore Food Festival, this restaurant has been on our radar.
 
The restaurant gives you the option of choosing either a 4 or 6-course menu.  Being insanely inquisitive, we opted for one of each, and a glass of wine to complement every course.
 
The first dish (above) was ravioli topped with smoked mozzarella, anchovies, pickled onions and rye crumbs.  These delicate dumplings housed a stuffing of eggplant, ricotta and a refreshing touch of mint.  Sounds like a lot on such a small plate, but somehow it worked.  The wine pairing, unfortunately, did not.  The strength of the Montepulciano, though normally not too heavy or tannic, overpowered the dainty first course.

 
Next came a filet of monkfish accompanied by yellow and green haricots, lemon confit foam, zucchini, and bone marrow on a light zucchini puree.  All in all a pleasant dish, but we felt that the fatty bone-stuff had been added just for the sake of richness, and failed to contribute anything worthwhile to the dish.

 
The third course was a delectable plate of crispy sweetbreads, tri-colored heirloom tomatoes, fresh white beans and lovage.  This dish was extremely simple and even more delicious.  The fatty flavor of the sweetbreads contrasted with the acid in the tomatoes and the freshness of the greens, and the al-dente beans added the texture the soft interior of the thymus glands was missing.  A mineral Sauvignon Blanc was paired with this course, and helped to wash it down and prepare our palates for the next forkful.  
 


Crispy skinned duckling was served fourth.  The sweet and tender meat was complemented both in flavor profile and color by the pink beets.  Onions, pea shoots and shiso provided a clever counterpoint to the dish, and a light red from the Languedoc rounded out the course nicely.

A trio of cheeses - comprised of a chevre, comté, and fourme d’ambert - was the second to last dish, and was paired with an apple-y Lou Blanc Chardonnay.



Finally came dessert:  an apricot semifreddo sitting in a demi-apricot cup, topped with a gossamer thin sheet of puff pastry which itself had a thin layer of caramelized sugar. This refreshingly cool summer dessert brought to mind an orange sherbert flavor from the ice cream truck days of yore.  Paired with a syrupy Muscato, it was a wonderful conclusion to the meal.

On top of the food, the wait staff is a diamond in the rough within the Paris dining scene; they were extremely attentive and friendly.  Not a minute went by after finishing each carafe d’eau before a new one was brought to the table.  Americans, you would be impressed!  Thank you, Rino, for a wonderful Friday night, and a perfectly intimate birthday celebration.

Frenchie

Part of the reason it has taken over a month to post about Frenchie is the difficulty we’ve had putting the experience into words. In concept, and perhaps upon first glance, chef Gregory Marchand’s market-driven cuisine is simple, yet deceptively so.  His passion and dedication to artistry is reflected on each impeccably designed plate in new and unusual ways.  The refined, clean and subtle nuance and combination of flavors the chef concocted for each dish surprised us with every bite, and only compounded as the meal progressed.  The epitome of a meal where the whole was much more than the sum of its parts.  All in all, a good night out in Paris.  

First came the foie gras au torchon, which was an add-on to our prix fixe. Our guest of honor had never tasted the luscious duck liver before, and we insisted that she try it before leaving-  what an introduction it was! Perfectly balanced in every way—citrus zest shavings to cut the richness, and pieces of crunchy toasted bread as a counterpoint to the silky texture of the meat, and baby greens with an apricot jam to cleanse the palate.  We wiped off every crumb from the plate.  For those wondering, foie gras au torchon is a time-intensive preparation that requires a lot of skill to execute. If you’re really curious, click here.

Next came the stunning house-cured trout (pictured above) topped with cucumbers, pickled shallots, dill, and placed carefully on a subtle avocado puree. The cool creaminess of the puree together with the smoky fish reminded us of a lox-and-schmear combo, though there was no bagel necessary here.  The light and refined flavors trumped the nostalgia induced by these associations.  

Another appetizer two of us ordered was the “raviolo al sole,” which translates to sun ravioli. Not knowing exactly what to expect, we were equally delighted as we were surprised when the first cut into the thin pasta dough revealed a perfectly runny egg yolk, which oozed out onto the plate and blended seamlessly with the rest of the broth-like sauce. The yolk’s thickening effect, as well as the richness, could be soaked up by the accompanying morels, while the wild asparagus and zucchini provided a pleasant and fresh crunch. The shavings of comte cheese added a salty bite to the dish to top it off.  A real showstopper (though, to be clear, there was no stopping until plates were clean).  We’re still baffled by how he managed to cook the ravioli so perfectly without cooking the egg yolk inside.  If you have any idea, please let us know! 

The main courses were no less special or impressive.  One of them was a piece of line-caught merlu (hake - similar to cod or haddock) sitting in a green “spring minestrone.”  The fish skin was crisped to perfection and the broth singlehandedly demonstrated the attention to seasonality that Chef Marchand prides himself on.  The minestrone included basil, asparagus, zucchini, peas and fava beans.  On top of the fish was a piece of tomato and a beautiful zucchini blossom.  Other tiny flowers were sprinkled on the plate as a finishing touch - a feature of nearly every dish that evening.

The other main course was veal with carrots, which you can see above.  Al dente carrots, peas, and spring onion joined the well-cooked and tender veal over a sweet carrot puree with a bit of thickened veal jus and some dill.  How was such an ordinary dish - on paper - able to transcend the combination of ingredients it included?  Unfortunately, we didn’t and still do not have the answer.  You will have to experience Marchand’s cooking for yourself and draw your own conclusions.

A blue cheese course with black cherries bridged the gap between our main courses and two memorable desserts.  The first was a lemon-verbena pana cotta with berries and candied sage, which was heavenly, yet somehow outdone by the second (above) - a rhubarb lemon tart, with a burned sugar top à la crème brulée, and a caramel sauce for good measure.  This was easily one of the best desserts we’ve ever tasted.  

All throughout the meal, we had the pleasure of watching the chef lean out of the microscopic kitchen through his cubby hole, while he observed the diners regale in the delicious bounty he and his two sous-chefs created.  The diners enjoying his food, and the chef finding pleasure in our appreciation of the experience - it was the embodiment of the symbiotic relationship between a chef and diners at its purest, and only magnified the bliss already wafting through the air.

At the end of the night, we approached the bartender to commend him on the wonderful meal, and he promptly directed us to speak to the chef himself.  Since we elevate culinary artists to the level of celebrity that most would reserve for Hollywood actors (and we didn’t want to be one of those annoying couples), it took us a few minutes to muster up the courage.   Chef Marchand welcomed our approach and compliments with an equal amount of graciousness, thanking us for our patronage, and expressing his hopes to see us soon. We wasted no time in making sure that would be the case.  We asked for the next available reservation - two months in the future was the earliest - and we pounced on it without hesitation.  It’s not often that a place is hyped as much as Frenchie (it’s one of the hardest reservations to land in the entire city) and still manages to pass nearly every discerning judge’s test with flying colors. Frenchie is a keeper.

Xiao Long Bao

Din Tai Fung has a reputation for the best soup dumplings (xiao long bao) in the world. So far, we agree.  We ate these in Shanghai, and they lived up to the hype- and then some.  Having fallen in love with the juicy morsels at Gourmet Dumpling House in Boston, we had become accustomed to plump, meaty dumplings with a thicker wrapper. DTF’s are definitely juicy, but shockingly light and delicate; one has to be extra careful not to pierce the wrapper when lifting them with chopsticks. There’s an art to eating them, and we’ve witnessed (and experienced) at least one embarrassing moment where a date night turned messy, with scalding hot broth squirting in all directions upon first bite. With some experience, though, and a spoon full of black vinegar and fresh ginger, high quality xiao long bao are as good as food gets.  

Here’s hoping they open a branch in Europe…

[In the US there’s one in Los Angeles, CA - in Arcadia, to be precise, and another in Seattle]