Bouchon: Just Right

With the exception of the afternoon my fiancée and I got engaged at Gargiulo Vineyards, the Napa Valley memory that sticks out most clearly in my mind is the time we first set foot in Bouchon, Thomas Keller’s French bistro-style restaurant. We were here in January 2005 on a surprise trip that she had planned for us. Lucky to even make it through a snowstorm that almost brought O’Hare to a halt, we arrived in Napa late in the evening exhausted and road-weary.

During our delay at O’Hare we had flipped through our guidebook and decided to make dinner reservations at Bouchon for nine o’clock. The book said it was owned by the same guy who ran this fancy-shmancy place called “The French Laundry.” So, we figured it would be a safe bet for our first dinner in wine country.

After quickly checking in to and dropping our belongings off at our bed and breakfast, we set off north on Route 29 towards Yountville. Of course we didn’t have directions to the restaurant (we were too tired to think of such details), but Yountville looked small enough on the map and we figured we couldn’t miss it.

Fortunately, we were right and we spotted the dark red awning on the right side of Washington Street (the main drag in Yountville), found a parking space, and willed our tired bodies out of the car and into the restaurant.

Like a jolt of caffeine, the noise and energy of the restaurant snapped us out of our travel-induced malaise. I can still remember the bottle of wine and food that we ordered that night, although I’m pretty sure we were too tired to really taste either. But, there was something about the place that made us want to come back. And we have, every time that we visit Napa one of the first things we do is make an Opentable reservation for Bouchon.

Despite the fact that it serves “casual” French bistro fare, it is, admittedly, a luxury. Most entrees are over $20 and many are over $30. It has one Michelin Star. The staff is professional and attentive, and treats it like a special place. But, at the same time, it has a level of comfort in its casualness that seems hard to reconcile with “luxury.” The menus are printed on thin brown paper and simple wrapped around the napkin. The space is small and can feel a little claustrophobic on a busy night (which most are).

It is because of this feeling of familiarity that I tend to order pretty much the same thing every time I visit Bouchon: the poulet rôti, or roast chicken. Like the restaurant itself, there is something comfortable and reassuring about having a “usual.” Sometimes I’ll get an appetizer, like the delicious bibb lettuce salad or steamed mussels. But, for dinner, it’s always the roast chicken for me. On my most recent visit for dinner, about a week and a half ago, I was lucky enough to find a seat at the bar. Although the bar was slow, the restaurant was packed. On a Sunday night. In January.

Since I had been cooking recipes from The Bouchon Cookbook I scanned the menu to see what I recognized (the bulk of the menu rarely changes). Sure enough, there was the French Onion Soup, Parisian Gnocchi, and Croque Madame. I also spotted the delicious sides that my fiancée regularly orders: cauliflower gratin, sautéed spinach, and haricots verts. The menu also includes many traditional French favorites like escargots, caviar, foie gras, and duck confit. Then, of course, there was my poulet rôti.

Although the roast chicken is always on the menu, its sides and garnishes do change from season to season. Since I tend to be here most often in the winter months, the chicken is often accompanied by a rich, brown jus and hearty vegetables or mushrooms. One memorable preparation included my introduction to morel mushrooms. This evening’s chicken was a little different, and absolutely delicious. In addition to a whole grain mustard jus was a blend of winter squash, poached pears, chestnuts, and wonderfully crispy and salty spätzle. The spätzle were the surprise of the dish, as I found myself digging around on the plate when I had finished the chicken just to make sure I had unearthed all of them. This is one thing that makes Bouchon so great, even in a dish I’ve ordered many, many times they still find a way to make it a little different, a little better.

As delicious as the chicken was, I was feeling inspired by the fact that I had enjoyed some new French flavors from the Bouchon Cookbook, e.g. mornay sauce, and decided to order outside of my comfort zone when I visited for lunch yesterday (Bouchon serves exactly the same menu from open to close, like a traditional French bistro).

I started by ordering a glass of the house white, a lovely Napa Valley viognier made by popular local winemaker Sean Larkin. I sipped on this while ruminating on just exactly how far outside of my comfort zone I was willing to go.

I settled on French Onion Soup for an appetizer and a Tuna Niçoise Tartine (basically an open-faced tuna salad sandwich) with Frites. I’ve only had French Onion Soup once in my life, and was not a big fan. But, Keller waxed so poetically about the soup in the Bouchon Cookbook that I decided to give it another shot after 10+ years. Plus, I figured that wherever I had ordered the soup before, it was probably not nearly as good as Bouchon.

But, after ordering the soup, I realized a mistake. I had already ordered a delicate, floral white wine that would be completely overshadowed by this rich and hearty soup. Conveying my mistake to the bartender, I ordered a glass of cabernet sauvignon to enjoy with the soup. What I appreciated (in addition to the bartender, hopefully, not thinking I was a drunk) was that he offered to keep my glass of wine cool in the fridge while I had my soup. I declined, but the thought to ask indicated a degree of care and attention that impressed me (either that or he was looking out for appearances and didn’t want people to think he had a drunk at his bar). I ended up ordering a glass of cabernet to have with the soup.

The soup arrived and looked amazing. But, about half way through the soup I remembered another thing that Keller had mentioned about this dish: that it was almost an entire meal in itself. The soup itself was thick, hearty, and a little tart, which contrasted with a mellow sweetness in the onions. Both of these flavors were balanced by the toasted cheese covering the top of the pot, which I tried to incorporate with every spoonful. While I enjoyed the experience, I’m not sure how often I’ll order the soup again at Bouchon or elsewhere, unless I need an inexpensive one-pot meal on a cold winter afternoon.

After a much needed five-minute respite, the tartine arrived with a pile of fresh frites. In almost exact contrast to the soup, it had bright colors and appeared fresh and delicate. Here is where I must make a confession. I had never eaten a hard-boiled egg. Ever. But, like an authentic Tuna Niçoise salad, the sandwich came topped with slivers of hard-boiled egg. Considering I enjoy fried and poached eggs, I’m not sure what I was expecting. Perhaps, I thought that they would have the pungent and unappealing taste of egg salad. I don’t know. But, paired with the tuna salad, bibb lettuce, and toasted bread, they were quite nice. If anything, they contributed more to the texture of the dish than to the taste.

One of the least expensive entrees on the menu, the tartine did not fail to fill me up. Served with Bouchon’s fantastic frites, it would have been a perfectly sized, filling lunch on its own. But, combined with the French Onion Soup, this soup and sandwich combo kept me sated well into the evening. And, like most of my visits to Bouchon, it was just right.