Vive L'Antibes
Exemplary French cuisine in the Short North
By Amy Fisher |
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Every so often you get that Goldilocks feeling, when something is 'just right.' The feeling comes on subtly: a song lyric that resonates, a book that makes you laugh out loud, a lover who falls in sync, or a meal that satisfies a part of you that you didn't know was hungry. When the skills of a talented chef and ingredients of superb quality are perfectly married, it produces exactly that sensation. A recent visit to L'Antibes provided just such a moment.
The avocado salad at L'Antibes
Photo: Chris Casella
The meal began with an amuse-bouche from the chef - a demitasse of butternut squash soup with nutmeg. The soup had a texture of velvet and a warm, creamy quality that lingered perfectly as it traveled across the palate. Each sip imparted a simple, ingredient-centric elegance - and was a tease of things to come.
We indulged in a Chateauneuf du Pape ($67). Settling into the structured berry flavor and warm depth of a bottle of Berthet-Rayne was easy. Such a wine could move the stuffiest of squares to take swigs from the bottle and sing songs learned in childhood. ("Beast of Burden," anyone?)
The foie gras appetizer ($18) arrived next, a dense cappuccino-colored layer atop the thin house-made brioche. The buttery toast melting into the unctuous liver tasted as if bread and butter had taken steroid injections and really stepped up their game, and the accompanying fig jam gave a sweet counterpoint for balance against the intense strength of the foie gras.
The avocado salad ($11) was luxurious with truffle oil, fresh hearts of palm, and an occasional burst of flavor from thick sea-salt crystals and fresh thyme.
The duck entree ($24) delivered as well. The flesh of the breast was colored similarly to freshly pinched cheeks, supple and moist from the dense layer of accompanying fat. The raspberry-cassis sauce was subtle enough to enhance the protein, without undercutting any drama from the breast. The pureed potatoes and sauteed spinach played wonderful accompanying parts, each gracing the palate with the right amount of flavor, just enough to give pause from fawning over the incredible duck and momentarily redirect your devotion.
The ingredients of the poached pear dish ($8) called to mind a few lyrics from the song, "A Few of My Favorite Things": honey, cardamom, hazelnut, and a Grand Marnier yogurt sauce. (I must ask the chef to please get out of my head.) The pears were poached until just tender enough to maintain their signature texture, while the flavor subtly gave way to the Gewürztraminer and spice - a dessert solidly constructed from start to finish, as was the entire meal.
The decor of L'Antibes is simple. The kitchen and dining room are of an equally intimate size. The small side street through the window is pleasantly quiet. The service is professional, but not stuffy. These are all attributes that blend seamlessly into what a restaurant experience should always be about - enjoying yourself. This idea is as old as restaurants themselves. When I inquired as to the origin of the bread, the server said that it was made in house, and then he quoted his chef, Matthew Litzinger: "We do things here as they have been done for the past three hundred and fifty years."
Please continue.
L'Antibes
772 N High St., Suite 106
(614) 291-1666
www.lantibes.com
Originally Published: February 1, 2010
