[Pigging by Wilfrid: October 13, 2008]
I promised last week that I'd continue raving about this special and significant Flat Iron Provençale debutante.
A second visit, to mop up the meat side of the menu, didn't alter my opinion that the hopes of diners who appreciate fine, updated-classic French food served in a civilized setting may be riding on this sleek operation.
Full disclosure: I was anonymous on the occasion of the first meal I ate here; I was recognized second time around, but since I liked the food and service from the get-go, and they didn't shower my head with white truffles or stuff banknotes in my pocket, my good opinion remains pure.
I pitched right into the bangers. The Perugina sausages, sweet and meaty with hints of fennel and black pepper, are a Nice tradition, usually served with lentils. Here they arrive in dark, bite-sized pieces with a ragout of sweet peppers and onion. Discs also, small yellow ones, strewn across the dish like doubloons: these are panisses, chickpea fritters, crisp on the surface and soft within.
Next, the s0-called "rumstek" of veal - not sure about ther linguistic twist there, are we suddenly in Belgium? I'd have guessed the cut was loin, but I may be wrong. In any case, the meat is given a sharp, minerally sear which contrasts neatly with the tender pink center.
The jus is distinctly flavored with rosemary, and there's a creamy touch too which turns out to be Gorgonzola. I took especial delight, though, in the meticulous turret of vegetable slices, and for all the menu calls it a "vegetable confit", I insist it's a ratatouille, just as pretty as the one in the movie. Oh, picking for something to criticize, I suppose the red onion slice could have been a little more tender.
Having taken the cheese plate last time, I felt obliged to consider dessert.
Not a slavish dessert-eater, I am usually content with a panna cotta; I was a little unsure how I felt about it being licorice-flavored. It worked - a gentle scent rather than a harsh, sticky-sweet flavor. Seared pineapple slices gave a sharp contrast, and holding the middle of the plate I found what I can only call schlag, that fluffy white cream beloved of German steakhouses.
Better than solid, I loved this meal too. Allegretti is a chef of skill in a town where too many kitchens go through the motions of matching the food to over-written menus. It's not an inexpensive restaurant. Appetizers are well-priced, and desserts almost cheap, but the main courses reach into the upper thirties. With a half-bottle of young, tangy Gigondas, I easily cruised into three figures for one person.
But, hey: open your beanbags and do yourselves a favor. This is a class act - treasure it.
