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[Dining Out]

Pigalle
A newcomer crests the French revival
BY ROBERT NADEAU

dining out
Pigalle
(617) 423-4944
75 Charles Street South (Theater District), Boston
Open Tues–Thurs, 5:30–10 p.m.; Fri–Sat, 5:30–10:30 p.m.; and Sun, 5:30–9:30 p.m.
AE, CB, DC, MC, Visa
Beer and wine
No valet parking
Sidewalk-level access
Entree prices: $19–$23

Chef Marc Orfaly (formerly of Olives, No. 9 Park, and Pomodoro) previewed this restaurant as “French country.” So why did he give it the name of a once-unsavory Parisian neighborhood? To make a petite pitch for the late-night trade on the edge of Bay Village? Or perhaps to reference the yuppification of the original Place Pigalle? It’s odd, because there’s nothing unsavory about the food, which is among the best of the current French revival. In fact, subtracting a few Asian fusion dishes and California wines, Pigalle has the most French of the French-revival menus. There’s almost nothing here that would be amiss in Paris, and that’s something to brag about.

Vichyssoise with oysters ($7) wouldn’t be Parisian, since the cold potato-leek soup was invented by a French chef in New York. But this is hot, and the oysters provide a salty emphasis to a soup that is lighter than oyster stew, but rather more appetizing. For a rich appetizer, the leek-and-goat-cheese tart ($10) is a thin, rich slice of luxury, with a bracing salad of fresh tarragon and parsley for contrast. The house greens ($7) are a kind of deconstructed-reconstructed caesar salad, with carefully piled (and nicely dressed) spears of romaine on one side of the plate, then a careful tower of croutons, rather like the cairn of stones that might mark a grave in the far North. Ah, but not so careful, since the tower is founded on soft cloves of roasted garlic.

Tuna niçoise ($11) is a deconstructed salade niçoise without the lettuce, and with sashimi-like slices of exquisite seared raw tuna rolled in salt. Other bursts of flavor come from little bunches of asparagus tips tied together with chive, a little pile of cured-olive parings, and a larger pile of fresh artichoke hearts. Winter? What winter?

Tuna phyllo roll ($9) looks like Japanese food, but in a French style of visual trickery. The rolls enclose gingery tuna salad and look a little like egg rolls, but are served in a fancy arrangement like sushi. They have a mustardy soy dip and a little pickled ginger, like sushi, but there are also three Korean-style condiments, including a hot kim chee.

On the menu, main dishes ought to — and do — begin with the great French country dish cassoulet ($19). This is a bean stew flavored with oil-cured “confit” of goose or duck, garlic sausage, and other meats that can stand up to long cooking. Orfaly presents it in an individual casserole with a fairly mild confit of duck, and has edited out the garlic sausage in favor of substantial chunks of something like lamb shanks and short rib (or salt pork). The result is a very impressive and savory dish, in a portion that won’t kill you immediately. Since confit of duck and cassoulet are signatures of Gordon Hamersley a few blocks away, a gauntlet is down.

“Steak frites of rib eye” ($19.50) puts a similar challenge to Aquitaine, the restaurant just past Hamersley’s. The rib eye is a larger and classier steak than the hanger steak served at Aquitaine, though not so flavorful. I’m also unmoved by Pigalle’s little ramekin of creamed spinach, although the shoestring fried potatoes trump the usual “frites.” A subtler platter of meat is the duck breast, cut somewhat thicker and cooked rarer than elsewhere. Here the country touch is potatoes boulangère ($23), a melting cake of potatoes, onions, and selected fats.

In the key of fish, Orfaly cuts a chunk of poached cod ($21) into an odd shape, leaves it just done, and broils it on a gilding of yummy classic hollandaise. The vegetable is salsify tied into little bundles, but not strongly flavored in this preparation. The side starch (you’ve been good, you’ve ordered fish) is a platter of exquisitely tender noodles in a rich cream sauce. Salmon ($23) has a spice crust; again, it is slightly undercooked and layered onto a creamy heap of puy lentils, the little French lentils that hold their shape so well.

This is red-wine food, and Pigalle has a wonderful list of country wines, almost entirely French. We stuck with the Rhône valley and the fine 1998 vintage, starting on a Vacqueyras (Domaine la Garrique, $30) that had structure, elegance, and black-cherry fruit flavors. If you want to move up, and especially with the cassoulet, the Gigondas (Domaine les Pallières, $43) is just better in all those dimensions — surprisingly drinkable but with a lot of the character of Guigal’s Côte Rotie, which no one can afford to drink anymore. If you want to finish your wine in the manner of the long-lived French, the cheese plate ($8) is full of wonderful tastes. Our night it featured a very ripe brie, a truly runny double crème, an English cheese with a little blue in it, and a fresh, but deeply pungent, goat cheese. Tea ($3.50) is served correctly: loose tea steeped in a large china pot.

One must save room for dessert, which is purely French. Pigalle’s fallen chocolate cake ($7), a crusty pudding cake that doesn’t let up, is another shot across the bow of Aquitaine. Caramel-chocolate mousse ($7) was delectable in a different way, and accented with a cinnamon tuile cookie and a black-cherry sauce. Apple-calvados tart ($7) was the non-chocolate pick: great pastry, deep apple flavor, black-cherry garnish — just very rich and good to eat. The only pedestrian dessert was crème brûlée, and fans of crème brûlée will certainly walk a mile for it here.

Service at Pigalle is more luxury than country, but unobtrusively so, except when the servers mass to present a course in caravan. (The front of the house is run expertly by Orfaly’s wife Kerri, also formerly of No. 9 Park.) The use of very large wine glasses is approved. Our waitress was solid on the menu and even better on the wine list. The atmosphere on a weeknight was subdued, but the room is already beginning to fill up. Considering that this space used to be a Greek-American luncheonette, the design now seems suitably dark and restful, though once the food comes out, you won’t notice anything else. The location, next to the 57 Garage, is unprepossessing, but convenient to the theaters — so let’s say that Park Square just got a little larger.

Robert Nadeau can be reached at robtnadeau@aol.com.

Chef Marc Orfaly (formerly of Olives, No. 9 Park, and Pomodoro) previewed this restaurant as “French country.” So why did he give it the name of a once-unsavory Parisian neighborhood? To make a petite pitch for the late-night trade on the edge of Bay Village? Or perhaps to reference the yuppification of the original Place Pigalle? It’s odd, because there’s nothing unsavory about the food, which is among the best of the current French revival. In fact, subtracting a few Asian fusion dishes and California wines, Pigalle has the most French of the French-revival menus. There’s almost nothing here that would be amiss in Paris, and that’s something to brag about.

Vichyssoise with oysters ($7) wouldn’t be Parisian, since the cold potato-leek soup was invented by a French chef in New York. But this is hot, and the oysters provide a salty emphasis to a soup that is lighter than oyster stew, but rather more appetizing. For a rich appetizer, the leek-and-goat-cheese tart ($10) is a thin, rich slice of luxury, with a bracing salad of fresh tarragon and parsley for contrast. The house greens ($7) are a kind of deconstructed-reconstructed caesar salad, with carefully piled (and nicely dressed) spears of romaine on one side of the plate, then a careful tower of croutons, rather like the cairn of stones that might mark a grave in the far North. Ah, but not so careful, since the tower is founded on soft cloves of roasted garlic.

Tuna niçoise ($11) is a deconstructed salade niçoise without the lettuce, and with sashimi-like slices of exquisite seared raw tuna rolled in salt. Other bursts of flavor come from little bunches of asparagus tips tied together with chive, a little pile of cured-olive parings, and a larger pile of fresh artichoke hearts. Winter? What winter?

Tuna phyllo roll ($9) looks like Japanese food, but in a French style of visual trickery. The rolls enclose gingery tuna salad and look a little like egg rolls, but are served in a fancy arrangement like sushi. They have a mustardy soy dip and a little pickled ginger, like sushi, but there are also three Korean-style condiments, including a hot kim chee.

On the menu, main dishes ought to — and do — begin with the great French country dish cassoulet ($19). This is a bean stew flavored with oil-cured “confit” of goose or duck, garlic sausage, and other meats that can stand up to long cooking. Orfaly presents it in an individual casserole with a fairly mild confit of duck, and has edited out the garlic sausage in favor of substantial chunks of something like lamb shanks and short rib (or salt pork). The result is a very impressive and savory dish, in a portion that won’t kill you immediately. Since confit of duck and cassoulet are signatures of Gordon Hamersley a few blocks away, a gauntlet is down.

“Steak frites of rib eye” ($19.50) puts a similar challenge to Aquitaine, the restaurant just past Hamersley’s. The rib eye is a larger and classier steak than the hanger steak served at Aquitaine, though not so flavorful. I’m also unmoved by Pigalle’s little ramekin of creamed spinach, although the shoestring fried potatoes trump the usual “frites.” A subtler platter of meat is the duck breast, cut somewhat thicker and cooked rarer than elsewhere. Here the country touch is potatoes boulangère ($23), a melting cake of potatoes, onions, and selected fats.

In the key of fish, Orfaly cuts a chunk of poached cod ($21) into an odd shape, leaves it just done, and broils it on a gilding of yummy classic hollandaise. The vegetable is salsify tied into little bundles, but not strongly flavored in this preparation. The side starch (you’ve been good, you’ve ordered fish) is a platter of exquisitely tender noodles in a rich cream sauce. Salmon ($23) has a spice crust; again, it is slightly undercooked and layered onto a creamy heap of puy lentils, the little French lentils that hold their shape so well.

This is red-wine food, and Pigalle has a wonderful list of country wines, almost entirely French. We stuck with the Rhône valley and the fine 1998 vintage, starting on a Vacqueyras (Domaine la Garrique, $30) that had structure, elegance, and black-cherry fruit flavors. If you want to move up, and especially with the cassoulet, the Gigondas (Domaine les Pallières, $43) is just better in all those dimensions — surprisingly drinkable but with a lot of the character of Guigal’s Côte Rotie, which no one can afford to drink anymore. If you want to finish your wine in the manner of the long-lived French, the cheese plate ($8) is full of wonderful tastes. Our night it featured a very ripe brie, a truly runny double crème, an English cheese with a little blue in it, and a fresh, but deeply pungent, goat cheese. Tea ($3.50) is served correctly: loose tea steeped in a large china pot.

One must save room for dessert, which is purely French. Pigalle’s fallen chocolate cake ($7), a crusty pudding cake that doesn’t let up, is another shot across the bow of Aquitaine. Caramel-chocolate mousse ($7) was delectable in a different way, and accented with a cinnamon tuile cookie and a black-cherry sauce. Apple-calvados tart ($7) was the non-chocolate pick: great pastry, deep apple flavor, black-cherry garnish — just very rich and good to eat. The only pedestrian dessert was crème brûlée, and fans of crème brûlée will certainly walk a mile for it here.

Service at Pigalle is more luxury than country, but unobtrusively so, except when the servers mass to present a course in caravan. (The front of the house is run expertly by Orfaly’s wife Kerri, also formerly of No. 9 Park.) The use of very large wine glasses is approved. Our waitress was solid on the menu and even better on the wine list. The atmosphere on a weeknight was subdued, but the room is already beginning to fill up. Considering that this space used to be a Greek-American luncheonette, the design now seems suitably dark and restful, though once the food comes out, you won’t notice anything else. The location, next to the 57 Garage, is unprepossessing, but convenient to the theaters — so let’s say that Park Square just got a little larger.

Robert Nadeau can be reached at robtnadeau@aol.com.

 

 
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