Aujourd'hui

Wonderful service and lovely food, if a little short on excitement

by Charlotte Bruce Harvey

Aujourd'hui
Four Seasons Hotel
200 Boylston Street
338-4400
Hours: 5:30 to 10:30 p.m.
Credit cards: AE, MC, Visa, DC
Full liquor license
Handicap access: yes

Bostonians are wont to hail Aujourd'hui as the "most romantic" of the city's restaurants, and it is unquestionably among the most luxurious. Located on the second floor of the Four Seasons Hotel, it is everything a four-star hotel dining room should be. The view of Boston Common and the Public Gardens is rivaled only by that of the Ritz. The dining room glows with golden-oak paneling, meticulously bookended. Tables are draped with heavy skirts and thick white table linens. They're so generously spaced that it's impossible to eavesdrop, no matter how curious you might be about the business deal being sealed 10 feet away. The cutlery feels solid in the hand and the crystal airy.

Service is at once invisible and instantaneous, amiable and inoffensive. The food is impeccably prepared and elegantly served. And just a tiny bit dull.

Executive chef David Fritchey took over the kitchen at Aujourd'hui late this summer, moving to Boston from Houston. While his Texas roots are subtly evident on the menu -- he's added a Texas ranch venison entree and a sirloin steak with a roasted-chile sauce -- the food at Aujourd'hui remains fairly safe.

It's an ideal choice for hotel patrons (rich, older, conservative), but those seeking culinary adventures may find the menu tame. For $30 an entree, I want food to make my heart sing. While dinner at Aujourd'hui certainly left me feeling pampered and well fed, it didn't leave me swooning.

On one visit this fall, chef Fritchey was preparing a hand-cut macaroni appetizer ($9.75) that had earned raves from Bon Appetit. Served on a pool of Madeira reduction sauce, fresh pasta was tossed in a cheese sauce flavored with prosciutto and a little sage -- beautifully crafted, but not very exciting. On a newer menu, which Fritchey introduced just before Thanksgiving, was a salad of Maine crab meat and tiny new potatoes in a tart shell made of paper-thin, crisp potato slices ($10.75). The salad was surrounded by baby artichoke hearts and dabs of a sherry-infused tomato coulis. It is one of a several dishes on the menu marked as the Four Seasons "alternative cuisine" -- low in salt, fat, calories. A salad of red oak-leaf lettuce came with red and yellow pear tomatoes and a light balsamic vinaigrette ($8.50). For texture, Fritchey served Parmesan crisps -- slices of crunchy fried or baked cheese.

One of the most rewarding entrees on an early fall menu was sliced duck breast ($29) served rare, with a vibrant, savory sauce of rhubarb and ginger that complemented the rich fowl. Instead of ordinary mashed potatoes, Fritchey paired the duck with whipped boniato, a South American tuber that whips up like a white potato but tastes sweeter and nuttier, a little like parsnips. It was outstanding. A confit of duck thigh was very salty, though.

Oven-roasted salmon filet ($29), was crisp outside and translucent inside, stuffed with wild mushrooms and braised leeks. Fritchey served the salmon with a silky merlot reduction sauce. He seared tuna steak ($31) rare and lightly coated it with black and white sesame seeds, then matched the fish with a scallion-potato pancake -- like a Chinese scallion pancake -- and an Asian-inspired fermented-black-bean sauce.

Instead of daily specials, Aujourd'hui offers two prix-fixe tasting menus each night, one of which is vegetarian. We took the plunge, to the tune of $70 for five courses, and found the food slightly more daring than on the main menu.

To whet the appetite, Fritchey served tuna tartare sandwiched between two grilled disks of wild-mushroom cap; a crème-fraîche sauce was spiked with fresh grated horseradish and dabs of bright orange flying-fish roe. A "napoleon" of eggplant was actually an exquisite, refined lasagna: nearly transparent slices of pungent, marinated eggplant, layered with smoky roasted yellow bell peppers and barely smoked buffalo mozzarella. The cheese was so fresh and light that it seemed fluffy. A sauce of fermented black beans was squiggled on the plate -- a fusion play that left me cold. I would have preferred an aioli or even a chile-based sauce.

The entree on the tasting menu that night was a beautifully grilled filet of beef served with a sharp truffle vinaigrette, green and white asparagus, and a potato pancake laced with green scallions and white truffle. The cheese course -- an "assiette of esoteric cheeses," according to the menu -- wasn't especially esoteric: a buttery Camembert; a tangy Vermont chèvre spiked with peppercorns; and salty, crumbly Roquefort. For contrast, there were a couple of sliced red grapes, spiced pecans, frisée, and a forkful of peppery cranberry relish. In what was perhaps the only lapse in service we witnessed, our waiter served coffee with the cheese course.

When you place your dinner order at Aujourd'hui, the waiters recommend ordering a made-to-order dessert soufflé as well, either chocolate or Grand Marnier. The latter came hot from the oven, and the waiter cracked it open and poured in fragrant crème anglaise, causing the soufflé to puff up as if breathing. It was a classic treat in this day of show-and-tell, whiz-bang desserts.

Your basic chocolate fix came in the form of a super-rich, flourless chocolate cake ($9.50), glazed with bittersweet chocolate and topped with dark-chocolate sorbet. The quality of the chocolate was extraordinary. Also noteworthy was a plum clafoutis ($9.50). The sliced fruit was baked in an airy batter that seemed more like a puff-pastry or a soufflé than the usual custard. It came with hand-made fig ice cream.

The wine list at Aujourd'hui is predictably dear. There are some fine Meursaults and Bordeaux, and some mid-range California wines. The mark-up is severe; a $10 bottle of Guigal Côtes du Rhône lists for $25. And the cost of wine by the glass is over the top. One night as a guest and I settled into our seats, a waiter asked if we would like something to drink before ordering. A glass of red wine, I said unsuspectingly. When the bill arrived, I found I'd been charged $14.50 for the glass. On a second visit, I asked for a wine list first and selected a less expensive glass, but the waiter served, and charged for, a $15.50 glass. Such is life in the fast lane.