[Pigging by Wilfrid: January 31, 2011]
La Goulue it ain't. And that's a deliberate choice. It really is un comptoir, sleek and comfortable, with some booths in the back and a small garden for kind weather.
A long dining counter with a view of the open kitchen where young chef Sébastian Chameret stirs pots, shakes pans and teases charcuterie. Traditional French food, local ingredients, and not a whiff of old Paree.
The place, Grand Street, a regular little foodie strip these days. Le Comptoir is almost next door to Walter Foods, which I've warmly praised. Since neither restaurant accepts reservations (Le C. is currently cash only too), it's good to have a very nice choice on that block. Up and down Grand, though, storefront windows flicker with candlelight, and the buzz of happy diners drifts onto the street.
Le Comptoir was long held hostage by the liquor authorities, and although it opened last year only recently aquired a full license. During the hiatus, it opened only for lunch and brunch, and I showed up to meet Chameret for another magazine, and specifically to try the the bacon-cheeseburger sausage devised by the guys at Meat Hook.
Ground beef mixed with Benton's smoky ham and some sharp cheddar cheese. "Maybe needs a little more cheese," mused Chameret, at that time the only chef offering the delicacy on his menu.
When I tried it, it came with a refreshing potato salad. He's now dressing it up with lentils. "Mm, a little more cheese," I agreed. And then I thought I should try some of the other charcuterie items.
A smoked duck breast he is sourcing from Hervé Katz, the charcuterie master of Ridgewood, was astonishing. Forget D'Artagnan - these silky slices were sweet with smoke, the fat melting in your mouth. The house pâté I was offered was as good as you'll find, and even better were duck rillettes I ordered at a subsequent dinner. Chicken rillettes - unusual - were on the menu, but the chef regretted he'd made them with duck instead. Oh, no need to apologize. Made in house (I watched the chef at work on the next day's batch), rich, fatty, spreadable, correctly served with cornichons and toasted country bread. Incidentally, the former occupant of this spot was a restaurant called Cornichon.
A mixed plate of charcuterie is advertised at $12, but usefully you can order single items at $5 each (with the hearty toasted bread, a bargain).
The restaurant is, shall we say, much darker at dinner time. Adrien Angelvy, another La Goulue veteran, directs service with an informality inconceivable at that Grand Dame. He duels with the bartender - "Order from me, you'll eat much faster." The bartender placidly mixes cocktails. Young diners will take a martini with their duck.
I drank red wine, but the duck was good nonetheless - breast cooked neatly medium rare, with crisp skin, served over buttery brussel sprouts and bathing them in its juices. This followed a dish of warming squash soup sprinkled with crunchy slices of toasted sunchoke.
Good brunch eating (under brighter lights), the braised short ribs served on a tartine with an egg on top. In the evening, you may see the same tender meat offered with a celery root purée. Entrées on the short menu are around the $16/$18 mark - more for steak - and the chef will improvise a six course tasting for $45.
The red Sancerre I tried was a Paris market choice - light and sharp - and not everyone will relish it for $12 a glass. There are less expensive cabernets, a Rioja, or of course a martini. Should you travel to Williamsburg from Manhattan for this food? Up to you, I think - but if you find yourself on Grand Street, as diners increasingly will, you'll find something much better than the bistro-by-numbers joints still common in downtown Manhattan.
The website is not very helpful as yet, but it's here.
Disclosure: A complicated one. My first visit to Le Comptoir was arranged by their publicist and was not primarily for the Pink Pig. Dishes sampled were complimentary. For the purpose of this review, I have eaten there, unannounced and paid my way.
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