Gautreau's: Is It Worth It?

Sadly the world has moved away from grand fine dining. The hottest restaurants now take few reservations or have some other Byzantine system to gain access to their dining room. The restaurant is likely located in an abandoned strip mall where your food is served by a disinterested English major with a penchant for ignoring you. To make the place hip, they've removed the tablecloths, pumped in synthetic pop, and added a slew of $12 cocktails. Or perhaps there is a food truck serving the cuisine of Ecuadoran Easter where you eat off of cardboard plates outside of an Electronic Dance Music club. Or a pop-up restaurant (guilty as charged) has taken hold of our energies and soon we are all piling into a bakery on a Monday night to eat Jamaican ramen.

Going to the dining destinations of the new Millennium requires the diplomacy, planning, and luck of a White House intern. The snobbery of the old French places have been replaced by the non-caring of today's hot new spots. The attitude of yesterday's sommelier or maitre d' is no match for today's hostess, mixologist, or chef who is convinced their restaurant is the height of a post-Roman civilization. You are lucky to get in, blessed to dine, and dared to complain.

Call me a snob, but sometimes I want the restaurant to actually give a damn about me.

When I want to be pampered, when I want service that matches a $30 entree, and when I want to actually dine in splendor, I head to Gautreau's. If you have been there and enjoyed it, you know what I mean. Behind the plain facade with no sign on Soniat Street and a slight trace of interior light, there is a serene dining room staffed by competent, professional staff. My favorite part of a meal at Gautreau's is perhaps the simplest pleasure of all. Upon being seated, you will not be barraged by a laundry list of specials or even the heft of a menu. Rather in a calm pleasant voice, you will be asked if you'd like a cocktail or perhaps a glass of wine.

Why don't more places do this? When someone comes to your house for dinner, you don't immediately shove food down their gullet. You offer them a drink; you sit; catch up; chat; relax. I love Gautreau's solely for this reason alone. And the act that they make a martini that could force Churchill to give up Scotch.

A drink down, your menu short and sweet shows up. I'm sure the desserts are worthwhile, but we made a decision to focus on Sue Zemanick's savory work. First up were tender and crispy baby artichokes laced with lemon that made one realize a stuffed artichoke is just a cover for bad technique. A plate of sweetbreads were soft on the inside, crispy on the outside, and surrounded by pearls of sweet crab meat, green spinach, smoky bacon, and a hard-boiled quail egg whose yellow interior blazed like a sunflower. A bite of this salad encapsulated the flavors of universal understanding.

Finesse is the difference between how you cook at home and how the great restaurants of the world cook. Witness a stack of just cooked lobster on top of crunchy, julienne vegetables surrounded table side by a coconut broth that evoked the joy of sharing a towel with to a beautiful woman on a Caribbean beach. Less successful was a duck confit, which while cooked well and tossed with arugula, blackberries, and almonds, lacked discussion besides, "Can I have another bite of your lobster?"

Gautreau's and Publican are the only two restaurants in America to give birth to three Food and Wine Magazine Best New Chefs. One reason for this continued success may be the simple roast chicken, the daiquiri of the food world. The skin requires a thorough whacking with a knife or fork to break the taut khaki crust. Underneath is a flesh whose salty, juiciness deserves a pair of shorts with words on the butt. A creamy raft of potatoes, a rich sauce with mushrooms, and crispy green beans round out one of the single best plates of food in America. A plate of grouper came forth gilded by green harissa and an eggplant, chickpea, and peppery hash. It was a tour de force of the cooking of the Mediterranean. All of the above got along pleasantly with an affordable bottle of rose.

Look, you can spend your time chasing down pop food trucks and eating a "chefs" idea of the comfort food of Indonesia. That food has a place in all of our diets. But if you really want to dine with a service staff that could give the Moscow Ballet a lesson on elegance and precision. If you want to eat food that is well-thought out and smart without being an inside joke. If you just want a solid drink, a good roast chicken, and a place to tell someone you love and appreciate them. Then head to Gautreau's.

Gautreau's: Is It Worth It? Absolutely.
1728 Soniat St.
Dinner Mon. - Sat.
899-7397

2010 Challenge: Gautreau's

When Dre and Dieter were in town, we spent the Saturday night before Easter in the warm embrace of Sue Zemanick, chef at Gautreau's. Of the multitude of delicious things we ate that evening, one in particular has stuck in my craw. It was a simple dish of smoky, braised collard greens topped by a perfectly crisp sweetbread. While I can complain that one orb of gland seemed miserly, the flavor of the dish spoke volumes about how talented Chef Zemanick is.

So of course I had to try it at home.

Sweetbreads with Collard Greens and Mustard Beurre Blanc

A few things off the bat. Most cuts of meat from any animal can be called "gross" by someone. That said, sweetbreads are not the balls of any animal. They come from the thymus gland of a calf or lamb, but mostly the former. When cooked properly, they become tender and rich like a teenage millionaire with low self esteem.

Now where to find them? Well, I am sure if you asked your grocer, they could source them for you. But the friendly and knowledgeable folks at the Rare Cuts in River Ridge have them in stock. Cooking sweetbreads is a multi-step, two day process. The first step is to soak the sweetbreads overnight in some cold water in the fridge. Change the water every few hours. This draws out many of the impurities and blood.

I used the basic technique for cooking sweetbreads from Susan Spicer's Crescent City Cooking. Here is the short form, mirepoix in pan, saute for 5 minutes. Add sweetbreads, wine, water to cover, salt, bay leaf, peppercorns. Bring to boil, then lower for a simmer, and cook until tender like a young woman's breast (her words, not mine).

Then plunge sweetbreads into an ice bath, place on a baking sheet, place another baking sheet on top, weigh it down, and let smoosh in the fridge for at least an hour. Then you can trim off some of the outer membrane and portion. Dust in flour and pan fry in some olive oil and butter.

While the sweetbreads cooked, cooled, and smooshed, make some collards. Saute small dice of tasso until crusty. Add to this a diced onion and some whole garlic cloves. I like to keep the garlic whole because it develops a sweet, nutty flavor. Then add your collards, some salt, hot sauce, cup of water (or stock), and slowly cook for as long as you got.

I made a simple mustard beurre blanc with some wine, mustard and butter in order to bring some acid and punch to what are very rich and hearty flavors. If you want the recipe, just ask, but Google is easier.

Cooking sweetbreads at home had its trying moments, as learning how to cook them is something that is best shown by example rather than read in a book. For instance, distinguishing between membrane, fatty tissue, and the meat proved challenging.

At the end of the excursion, we had a meal that wasn't overly challenging to prepare, but brought a sense of celebration to the table. We pulled out the nice wine glasses, the "company" place mats, and ate while the rain thundered down. Perhaps more importantly, the process also made me appreciate how a well-made sweetbread in a restaurant speaks volumes about a chef's craft.

Fish Fridays - Scallops

Let's keep the pressure on the mollusks. But this week, let's talk scallops. No sure, scallops aren't really from around these parts, but that doesn't mean some restaurants in New Orleans can't use them.

One of the number one thing we get asked is how can you cook scallops at home. The easy answer is you cant. This is because restaurants that serve the scallops you want to emulate are using day boat scallops or diver scallops. Day boat scallops are those which are usually harvested on boats which return to shore each night. The scallops are then rushed off to fish markets around the world. The scallops you are likely buying from the grocery store come from scallop factory boats. These boats dip the scallops in a chemical substance to keep them fresh and milky white for transport. That chemical inhibits caramelizing, and so you tend to overcook your scallops waiting on the color.

So either leave it to the pros or go diving in cold, Atlantic waters. But if you want good scallops in New Orleans, might we suggest the following:

Iris - Hands down, the meatiest, sweetest scallops in the city. The scallops arrive looking like albino filet mignons. Usually, Chef Ian swabs them down with a crisp, grapefruit butter.

Gautreau's - Peter and I have a huge crush on Sue Zemanick's refined take on motherly cuisine. Something about the way she creates such a crisp crust on her scallops makes us feel warm and safe. Then when she serves it with a bacon and corn relish, it is enough to make us want to take her on a date. But we are too nervous.

MiLa - We have talked before about the lunch menu at MiLa before, and on that prix fixe, occasionally, is a puree of squash or pumpkin with a petite dice of scallop that heightens the sweetness of scallops to a whole 'nother level. If you go for lunch (and you should), and this soup is on the menu, get it.

Where are your favorite places to enjoy the scallop?

Behind This Door...

... is another world far, far away from the Uptown street on which it lies. No sign, no valet, no uncovered windows to peak through. Unless you're a Newman mom picking up your son from football practice, you're not going to find Gautreau's if you are not actively searching for it. Instead, you are likely to just drive on by, unaware of the fantastic food being served inside of this old pharmacy.

On the whole, the dining room is most often described as a "jewel box." The main dining room on the ground floor holds less than 100 seats, but the mirrored columns and tall ceilings contrive more space than is actually there. Trompe-l'œil creates curtains from beige tinged walls. You walk through the dining room to reach the bar in the back, whose lively atmosphere usually resonates off the pressed tin ceilings.

While the dining room is full of illusion, deception is undeniably absent from the menu. Descriptions of dishes read relatively straightforward, but what comes forth from the kitchen can only be described as "excellence in simplicity." Same goes for the number of dishes on the menu, which is short yet nothing seems to be missing. One would think it would be easy to choose from a list of 5 appetizers and 7 entrees, but that was hardly my experience.

In the appetizer section, crisp pork belly is augmented by a ying and yang duo of sweet roasted peaches and tart pickled onions. You can find crabmeat and gnocchi on a number of menus around town, but Gautreau's version is lighter than others while still retaining its richness in a sauce of parmesan cream, English peas, and chanterelle mushrooms. Meaty scallops are delicious in their own right, but that show was stolen by the bacon and corn relish on top and spicy beurre blanc underneath.

In the entree section, a peppery saute of chorizo and clams served as a base for a crisp filet of fresh snapper, the spicy renderings of the chorizo flavored each bite of swiss chard next door. The Folk Singer is no vegetarian, but the pergoies stuffed with wild mushrooms brought her one step closer to conversion. We were too full for dessert.

Gautreau's is a special place - from the hidden location and unique interior down to the amazing cuisine. Crossing the threshold of the doorway is akin to entering your own private club, but yet you wonder how everyone else knew to come here? People seem to find great food no matter what the location. As Rene says, "Here's to hoping it stays a secret."

Gautreau's - Eagle

Top Chef Season 5

Top Chef Season 5 begins pretty soon, sometime between Halloween and Thanksgiving.

The profiles are up for this season's contestants. Once again noticeably absent is anyone from New Orleans. I guess the two days spent down here interviewing such chefs such as Food and Wine Best New Chef, Ian Schnoebelen, and the other culinary talent of the Crescent City could not match some of the chefs chosen for this season.

Wondering in a city as well known for its food and culinary history, why we have yet to see one chef from New Orleans, when we constantly see chefs from such foodie factories as Boulder, Co. Considering some of the bums that have been on this show, would it have been so hard to have Sue Zemanick compete. But I guess Bravo only wants chefs who have yet to have been discovered.

But then again, who cares?

Gautreau's

A good friend from college has recently moved to New Orleans, lets call him the Social Chair. He is staying with Lindsay and I for a few days and graciously offered to take us to any restaurant we wanted. Lindsay chose Gautreau's.

Gautreau's has always been a great Uptown, swanky joint. The lushness of the exterior is matched by the old world warmth of the interior. One feels like they are part of a secret club and with good reason. This spot will become one of your favorites; however, I suspect it already is.

Walking in we spotted in the corner Le Bucket and The Zanimal, who were celebrating the latter's birthday. Chef Sue Zemanick of Gautreau's recently became the latest New Orleans Chef to be on the cover of Food and Wine Magazine as a F&W Best New Chef. Congratulations to her, and kudos to Gautreau's for bringing in and cultivating such great young talent.

A few drinks and a toast to New Orleans gaining another young, professional couple (as the Social Chair's fiancee will move soon) later the appetizers arrived. Gazpacho with crabmeat and shrimp pleased the Social Chair, who leaving landlocked Nashville longed for seafood.

Scallops with truffled fettucine for Lindsay. A word about those scallops. One side was seared perfectly, the other side not at all. This was on purpose and provided an amazing contrast as one moved from the crunchy exterior to an almost molten interior. The truffled fettucine brought the familiar pungency of truffle oil in a complimentary fashion, rather than an overwhleming one. Lindsay did want me to mention one of the scallops was a little gritty.

I, being wise beyond my years, ordered the Pork Belly with soft polenta, peaches, and veal jus. The scoring on the pork belly let the fat crisp up nicely. The peaches, jus, and polenta completed what was overwhelmingly the best appetizer. The Duck Confit would also be a great choice.

Two salads arrived. The first a Bibb Lettuce salad with walnuts and strawberries. The other a salad of baby romaine and olives. Both were good and after eating mine, I thought "Why don't I eat more salads when I am out to eat?"

All of the above and all of the below was enhanced by a beautifully fragrant Sancerre Rose. Social Chair continued his quest for a seafood fixed with a crispy snapper. Lindsay got a roast chicken on mashed potatoes. Cause let's face it, roast chicken done properly is about as good as it gets. I got the duck over spinach with squash and potatoes. Plates were quickly and quietly cleaned.

If there is one thing I think Gautreau's does perfectly, it is crisping the fatty skin of animals. Sure they do other things very well, but the mastery of that skill makes Gautreau's very special. At the end of the day, a crispy duck confit, cracklin pork belly, or crunchy roast chicken all the while perserving a flavorful, moist interior would be good enough on its own to make this spot great.

The Social Chair had a terrific idea. We grabbed three flourless chocolate cakes with Grand Marnier sauce, sat on the couch, and watched the Raiders get beat.

Birdie.