A Charming Bistro

In The United States of Arugula, David Kamp spends a good portion of the book writing about Chez Panisse. In one passage he discusses the ideals behind the restaurant and a particular quote stuck with me. In it, Jeremiah Tower talks about what Alice Waters was really trying to do with Chez Panisse. Tower believes Waters was just trying to recreate a typical Parisian bistro. The kind of place were someone can go, chat up the bartender, have a bite to eat, and drink a glass of good, inexpensive wine.

New Orleans has many restaurants which fit this description. One that fulfills the Platonic ideal of a bistro for me is Vizard's. The ivy covered exterior of Vizard's creates a jewel box like setting for dining. The wall facing Magazine Street is entirely open with huge windows embellished with etched fleur de lis. Walking into the restaurant one is greeted by the hostess or if you are lucky the young, labor law violating host (who is Chef Vizard's son). You may feel as if you have entered a secret club, and you would be right.

The bar is on your right with maybe six or seven stools. A small dining room with no more than fifteen tables is off to the left. Every available inch of the room is used to store extra silverware or bottles from the interesting wine list. A lively atmosphere, helpful if sometimes reserved service, and the feeling of bonhomie (complete with a noise level suitable to a good party) round out a pleasant bistro experience.

The menu at Vizard's covers the basics of New Orleans dining while also incorporating some imaginative takes on bistro classics. Gumbo, crabmeat, red fish, bordelaise, frisee salads, hangar steak all make an appearance. This restaurant should satisfy anyone from an adventuresome diner to the meat and potatoes crowd. Besides what we tried this last visit, a daily gumbo, a crabmeat nelson, a seafood chop salad, the roast chicken, redfish, and Vizard's Cap (the cap end of the ribeye), all piqued our interest.

To begin our meal, the kitchen sent out a shot glass filled with a sublime puree of butternut squash. The soup coated the inside of your mouth at once luxurious and fleeting, leaving you wanting just one more sip. Steam laden bread, creamy butter flaked by pieces of pink Hawaiian salt, and a generous cocktail help you settle into the evening.

For apps, Lindsay got the scallop flan. We were informed that the flan needed a few more minutes to set-a good sign that the kitchen keeps the waiters informed. Soon the apps arrived. I did not get to taste Lindsay's flan as she devoured it and the crabmeat topping in record time.

For my appetizer I got the Greens, Egg, and Ham. Frisee and spinach topped by a paneed egg with bacon and a roasted shallot dressing with some rather bland slices of bread pretending to be croutons. What I really liked about this dish, besides everything, was that the dressing properly used a miser for the acid component instead of spendthrift.* The tendency to douse a salad in vinegar in order to cut the richness of the egg and bacon predominates in most restaurants these days. But I would rather fully enjoy the buttery explosion of cholesterol induced happiness and get the cut from a glass of wine or a vodka with a twist.

For our mains, Lindsay got the duck with sweet potatoes and greens. Crispy skin, although a few more minutes on a lower temperature would have resulted in a deeper crust. The potatoes were simply roasted and the greens expertly wilted.

I got the veal hanger with pommes frites and bordelaise. WOW. And as Jon Smith would say, "let me say that backwards, WOW." Hangar is restaurant speak for hip these days, but I had not yet seen a veal hangar.

Sometimes dishes defy an exact description. When they do, as this did, I find that they usually evoke memories most often associated with generalities. You take a bite, oohh and ahh, and just say "Damn this is good." Nothing more need be said. For this dish that general feeling was that this meat evoked all the characteristics that carnivores hold dear: juicy, flavorful, gushing on the inside, and kissed by flame. A connection with meat eaters past and future took place in that little room on Magazine and boy was I glad to be there.

The wine list has some home runs on it: a Caymus Conundrum, a few selections from the Medlock Ames winery, and some Old World selections. However for us, we went with a 2006 David Arthur Chardonnay from Napa. Just a stunner of a chardonnay. If you are one of those people who don't like chardonnay, congrats on taking your wine cues from Sideways and Sex and the City. Before you trash this noble grape to the next Dink at your pilates class, perhaps you should read this article. This wine drank more like a fine scotch with wisps of smoky peat and an interlude of salted nuts. For a wine to stand up to the myriad of dishes we ordered, all the while remaining truly unique, says a lot about Chardonnay's value.

Dessert was a lemon cheesecake with a glass of Nocello for Lindsay and Grand Marnier for myself. Service also has some connection to a Lyonnaise bouchon or Parisian bistro-meaning at times it may seem they are ignoring you. But in reality the service staff just wants you to enjoy the meal without unnecessary intervention. If you are in a hurry, I would go elsewhere. But if you are in a hurry, why are you going out to eat?

To sit, to talk, to drink nice wine, and to eat well this is something we should all do at least once a week. It can not take place every week at Vizard's, but I wish it would.

Birdie-Eagle.

*From the Spanish Proverb- Four persons are wanted to make a good salad, a spendthrift for oil, a miser for vinegar, a counselor for salt, and a mad med to stir it all up. Now, anyone want to translate that into spanish?