La Renouivillier
By Joe Reese
(A restaurant review, in which the connoisseur
unwisely overdoes the Chateau Margot 78)
Have just had occasion to visit La Revouivillier, a sumptuous provencal
establishment that the brothers Enrique and Armand Dusommelier have
added to our citys dining scene. Our area is indeed blessed to
welcome the talents of the two natives of Montpelier, who, having become
well known to Manhattans West Side gourmet world through their
mousselines and Vol-au-vent romande, have decided to bring what has
been described as the verve of a Paul Lutece, the gallantrie of
Jean-Paul DuBecque to our own connoisseurs.
The restaurant is, to begin, a visual delight. A companion and I were
transfixed by the capacious, airy, elegantly decorated and sumptuously
furnished interieur. Nor did a carefully prepared sampling of hors doeuvres
detract from the initial ambience. The smoked poisson assortment, for
example, is served with a sprightly raifort sauce, which is aerated
with cream, cradled in a cucumber boat, and accompanied by capers and
chives nestled on petoncles a la crème.
My first criterion in assessing any restaurants cooking, though,
is the quality of its consommé. Judged solely by its consommé
au fumet de celery, La Renouivillier is a world class restaurant.
This is marvelous stuff, glinting with submerged light, viscous, and
full-bodied, its beefy essence gently perfumed with a distillate of
caviar and air-cured foie gras. Enjoyed with a chilled bottle of Gewurztraminer
from the Santa Maria and Sisquoc Valleys (Leon Bennet, in Fine Wines
of America, refers to these wines and laments the disappearance of all
but a few of them as a result of the phyloxeria that struck Northern
California in 1958. A wonder, then, that the Dusommelier Brothers have
been able to procure some of them!) enjoyed with such a wine
my companion and I were induced, in fact, to order a second bottle
the meals entrée became a veritable excursion into
bliss, an experience comparable only, and if that, to what a Jacques
Chirac or an Henri Perioste might have, from those dusk filled fin de
siecle evenings in the rue la Forge, transmuted into literary gold.
But, I ramble.
We followed the nationalistic tendency of beverage selection with a
bottle of 1981 Chardonnay, finely balanced and free of oaky excess,
in which there was only a welcome shimmer of the assertive varietal
character too often overdrawn from this grape. Along with this aperitif
des dieux came the superb fish course highlighted by feuillete de homard,
gently poached collops of lobster nestled in a puff-pastry case seemingly
constructed of gold leaf and mantled in a distinguished sauce. Mixed
seafood skewered was somewhat dry, though, and so we ordered another
bottle of the wine.
On to the main dishes, the champignons for the compagnons, as I am
wont to say.
Veal kidneys and calfs liver both sautéed, with
sherry vinegar and with fresh herbs, respectively are graty
sorry, gratifying, as are the sweetbread medallions sautéed with
succulent chanterelles. With this course, as if by magic, appeared a
bottle of the deep, red Beaujolais that Serge Lonorio made for J. Amerstaid
Cellars. A richly harmonious flavor despite their age.
Great stuff.
We decided to have a couple of glasses of scotch, just for a lark.
It was really, in fact, turning into a great evening.
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