On my first day in Paris—I was nineteen and all alone—I got off the hissing train at the Gare du Nord and sheepishly took a table at the bistro inside. Looking over the menu with only the benefit of high school French, I found the familiar—steak frites, soupe à l’oignon, coq au vin, boeuf bourguignonne—and then I spotted blanquette de veau.I knew veau meant veal, which I loved, and was willing to take a chance on the unknown word blanquette.
What came forth from the kitchen was a gleaming white ceramic pot, whose lid the waiter removed to send an astonishingly delicious aroma into the air. The steam lifted to reveal morsels of tender veal, string beans and sweet white onions in an ivory sauce made with crème fraȋche. The waiter spooned some onto my plate, I tasted it and I was forever in thrall to the food, the feel and the comfort of the remarkable thing called a French bistro. In some way, that bistro led me into travel, wine and food writing years later. Vive le bistro!
Many years and many bistros later, I’ve never lost my ardor for them and the traditional food they serve, so when I entered Pierre Lapin, my smile broadened upon seeing the charms of flowered wallpaper, a cozy little bar, red and green banquettes, gingham curtains, tables set with white linens and paper, a lighted candle and fresh flowers on top, and from out the window the narrow streets of the West Village. Nostalgic French songs by Cyrille Aimée and Annie Girardot played without intrusion. Even the pelting rain outside had the cast of Paris in what Hemingway called “the false spring.”
Added to the pleasure of merely entering Pierre Lapin (Peter Rabbit, whose figure you’ll find affixed to the window), was the greeting by a lovely hostess named Gabriella with an irresistible Rumanian accent and being brought to our table by a stunningly beautiful Parisian waitress named Sophia, who could be a model on any magazine cover she chose to.
Chef and restaurateur Harold Moore and his partner Julia Grossman opened Pierre Lapin exactly one year ago, he having earned his New York stripes at Montrachet, Commerce and Harold’s. Here at Pierre Lapin, Moore did not wish to replicate the vast, ear-splitting atmosphere of a brasserie like New York’s Balthazar, aiming instead for intimacy and an ambience that encourages good conversation, with a menu of bistro classics. And very, very good bread. And plenty of good butter and truffled cheese.
There is a nightly menu written on a mirror with “Plats Classiques” that any true gourmand should swoon over.
One dish Moore cannot take off his menu is the round of ripe baked Brie. Once a cliché of gourmet luncheons, it faded in popularity because the Brie usually wasn’t very good, but Moore presents a fine, rich, gooey Brie with walnuts and figs and a good deal of flair. His terrine of foie gras with toasted baguette ($19) is as good as any in town, and it’s worth ordering the garlicky, parsley-flecked frogs’ legs for two as an appetizer. Equally delicious is a generous slab of hearty, crisply fried tête de porc with mustard ($14). And now that the fat white asparagus are in season, Moore lavishes them in a cream sauce and slips them under the flame to brown ($24).
For a main dish there is, of course, steak frites ($46), a good piece of perfectly cooked beef with enough French fries for the table. Tender morsels of sweetbreads are done in a francesestyle, dipped in an egg bath and sautéed with lemon and white wine ($28). That evening there was a superb risotto with peas, asparagus, morels, parmesan and butter ($23) that we all shared.
After my epiphany about the blanquette de veau at the Gare de Nord, I wish Moore’s version had been better, for while it had good flavor, it came messily plated and lacked the wine-rich white sauce that raises the dish to the sublime ($28)
There is also a roast chicken with a foie gras bread stuffing and pommes purée ($68 for two) that has long been one of Moore’s signature dishes since his days at Montrachet and one I shall gladly order next time.
Desserts include a perfect crème brûlée with a shiny, crackling caramel crust ($14), and as unlikely as a coconut cake ($14) seems at a French bistro, the version at Pierre Lapin was a winning example, not too sweet, very moist, very light.
There are about 50 wines on the list, with about one-third under $100, as well as some trophy bottles upwards of $500.
Were I crazy enough to open my own restaurant in New York, I can think of few models more congenial to my tastes and style than Pierre Lapin. Fortunately, there can be but one, so I’m safe and happy.
Open for lunch and dinner nightly; Brunch on Sat. & Sun.
PIERRE LAPIN
99 Bank Street
212-858-6600
