| rev:text
| - The short version: Tasty food, decent martinis, top-shelf service; naturally-shaded terrasse with low-key music so you can actually talk to people without sweating bullets and shouting at one another; and for dessert, they have *Armagnac*!
Found out about this place because of an offhand comment on Yelp Talk. Serendipitously found myself downtown with no plans for supper the same day. Lurching in at 1800 on a Monday, had no trouble getting a choice little table on the street with a stellar view of the passing parade.
Was immediately greeted by an exceedingly well-mannered curly-haired blonde girl from one of those European countries (Monaco? Luxembourg?) where they still speak French straight from the dictionary. A 750ml bottle of water and a clean glass hit the table *before* she handed me a set of tracts describing the viands and elixirs on offer. Big points for that; it's terrasse weather, and people are walking around in the heat packing children, cameras, small domestic animals, and all manner of contraband ironmongery. Being greeted with a big ration of water on arrival, on a hot day, says "We're thinking about you." It also says "Take a load off. Drink your fill. Stay a spell."
Well, I did, and I did, and I did.
Ordered a gin martini with lemon to slurp on while I perused the menu. Owner heard my order being given and hurtled up to ask if I preferred Bombay or Tanqueray. More points. Martini arrived (1) shaken, (2) large, (3) properly cold, and (4) served straight up in a proper cocktail glass. ONLY gripe about the martini was the lemon zests in it. They were the tiny, 2mm-wide kind, the size of spruce needles, like one sees on fancy pastry. Problem with putting those in a cocktail is, you suck them up in every mouthful. Whereas, a single long, fat piece of rind the size of a healthy earthworm tends to stay in the bottom of the glass where it belongs, much like an olive. That's what the big tooth on the zester's for.
The menu pitted my default "order the steak-frites" programmed response against my other default programmed response, "if there's lamb on the menu, you're eating it." Consulted Miss Luxembourg, who very subtly suggested that while it was delicious, I might find the braised lamb shank a bit rich on such a summer evening, compared to the bavette aux échalottes. Went with the steak. Also requested her input on a glass of wine to go with it; she very quickly got the message that I prefer robust, argumentative cuvées. Thus was a goblet of purest, bare-knuckled fighting red from the Haut-Médoc added to my order.
Bread barge came once I'd placed my order. Bread was *hot*, which was good, because the butter was ice-cold. Worked out well. Decent bit of baguette, that.
My plate arrived quickly: Steak, covered in caramelised échalottes or onions, fries, and a small pile of salad greens. The bavette was ordered medium and was cooked a bit on the well done side of as ordered. I didn't really mind. Its seasoning was delicious right out of the pan, and it needed nothing in the way of salt, pepper, or mustard. The fries were Woolworth's shoestring-thin, nicely golden, and tossed with a sufficient amount of salt. Meat and potatoes were both piping hot. The only letdown on the plate was the salad. The leaves looked tired, it had a few obvious wilts in it, and the dressing was a touch too sweet for my palate. I made everything disappear, though.
Water carafe was bussed and replaced the very second I emptied it. Miss Luxembourg and I shared a grin over that. Bread barge was refilled with alacrity, as well. I was definitely kept an eye on. Again, points.
After a decent interval, was offered a leer at the dessert menu. Asked what was on offer in the way of a digestif instead. Stunned and delighted to find Armagnac on the carte, I ordered a glass, along with an espresso. The espresso, frankly, was as thin and hard as a fakir's mattress, but the quality of Armagnac these people pour made up for that. It was such good stuff that I had another. The bill later revealed it to be Tariquet VS, and pouring Tariquet as your bar Armagnac is like pouring Glenlivet as your bar scotch: not a mark of insanity, exactly, but evidence that you're serious enough to not offer the jet fuel that is St-Vivant. (It tasted like Tariquet's VSOP, though. I think they grabbed a better bottle by accident.)
Service did get a little less brisk as the evening wore on; by 2000 hrs, as I was finishing my second digestif, the terrasse was about 85%- 90% full, and there were still only the one waitress and the owner wrangling the horde out front. Neither lady lost the plot at any time, though, despite the rush. Pros.
Prices, of food, wine, and booze, were all completely reasonable, and given the genteel nature of the setting and the general quality of the service, were arguably a bargain.
Men's room was clean, spacious, and usable.
Very pleasant evening, in a nice setting. I'd bring friends here.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)
![[cxml]](/fct/images/cxml_doc.png)
![[csv]](/fct/images/csv_doc.png)
![[text]](/fct/images/ntriples_doc.png)
![[turtle]](/fct/images/n3turtle_doc.png)
![[ld+json]](/fct/images/jsonld_doc.png)
![[rdf+json]](/fct/images/json_doc.png)
![[rdf+xml]](/fct/images/xml_doc.png)
![[atom+xml]](/fct/images/atom_doc.png)
![[html]](/fct/images/html_doc.png)