"Where in Park Slope can I get a bowl
of wonton soup, the gingery kind with gossamer wonton wrappers?"
"What about a decent Indian curry?"
Pose those questions to any Park Slope foodie and you’ll receive
the "Don’t even ask" New York eye roll. "Not in
this neighborhood," they’ll tell you. Until recently, if
you mentioned a yen for escargots or bouillabaisse, there’d be
no end to the "they have it, and we don’t" whining
and hand wringing.
While the area is challenged in the Chinese and Indian cuisine
departments, those who crave traditional French cooking in a
setting that isn’t lace curtain cute, are in luck. In August,
Christine and Bill Snell, neighborhood folk, and owners of the
much-loved bistro Loulou in Fort Greene, opened Park Slope’s
first "country style" French bistro on Fifth Avenue,
Cocotte.
What chef Bill Snell, who originated Loulou’s popular, seafood-based
menu, with executive chef Manuel Rueda, offers at Cocotte are
true French classics: escargots, foie gras and crepes.
There is something daring about Snell’s "here are the classics,
don’t you love them?" menu. In fact, little has been done
to lighten the dishes.
That is all for the good.
Snell’s dishes, and pastry chef Valerie Pryor’s desserts, are
often rich, yet not cloying, and they’re lusty. Nothing timid
comes out of their kitchen.
What a diner must do to enjoy a meal at Cocotte is to embrace
the ingredients that make classic French dishes so delicious:
butter and cream.
One should simply abandon the idea of restraint, and say, "Tonight
I’m indulging. I’m going to order a good bottle of wine and eat
whatever appeals to me," and then dive, fork first, into
the experience. (If you’re a killjoy, there are raw oysters,
a few salads and grilled fish that can be ordered without sauce,
but Cocotte isn’t the place for self-denial.)
Part of the pleasure of Cocotte is the dining room, which has
none of the standard, cliched bistro accoutrements: no huge mirrors;
no copper-colored walls; no French Provencal fabrics or lace
curtains. The mood is country farmhouse, but this is the dining
room of a prosperous farm, not a hardscrabble one. In the evening,
the room is dark and moody with wall sconces replacing overhead
lighting and candles on the tables casting a soft, flattering
glow. Tables are rough-hewn wood and, for better or worse, so
are the hard-bottomed chairs.
Of the appetizers we tried, the foie gras with raisin brioche
bread pudding and leeks in a port wine glaze was the most complex
and delicious. Take a forkful of the buttery duck liver, with
its winy flavor and perfectly seared edge. Add to your fork a
bit of the airy, souffle-like, not sweet, bread pudding, and
it’s like holding a meaty, winy, bit of cloud in your mouth.
The port wine glaze lent just the tiniest bit of sweetness and
an edge of bitterness that made for blissful, sensory overload.
Seafood chowder with a light, creamy broth was loaded with briny
clam flavor, and frog legs, that looked like they might have
belonged to a svelte Cornish hen, tasted like delicate white
fish and, yes, a little like white chicken meat. The legs, sauteed
in garlic butter, were served with ethereal, sage-flecked gnocchi
– another interesting play of textures. The legs, tender yet
still a bit chewy, contrasted beautifully with the gnocchi. [Editors
note: The frog legs have since been taken off the menu.]
I found the escargot a la bourguignonne (snails in parsley, garlic
and butter), pungent and nicely garlicky, but somewhat greasy,
and the snails, though tender, had little flavor. My dining companion,
on the other hand, adored it.
Each evening a whole grilled fish of the day is offered. The
daurade (sea bream) was perfectly grilled, moist inside, with
skin so crisp it crackled. The fish, served over a dense mound
of scallion-flavored mashed potatoes and thin, crisp asparagus,
sat in a small puddle of chunky roasted tomato and caper beurre
blanc (butter and wine sauce). The sauce tasted of ripe, sweet,
summer tomatoes, and the capers lent the dish a salty quality
that perfectly complemented the sweet fish.
One delicious, but over-the-top entree, is the veal in a cream
sauce. The edge of the veal is seared and crisp. The cream sauce,
although full of veal flavor, was too rich. On the plate are
crisp haricot verts (thin string beans) that are a pleasant contrast
to the richness of the meat, but an accompanying potato galette
(a layered potato cake), while utterly, decadently delicious,
made for a heavy threesome.
Pryor’s desserts follow entrees with a similar nod to tradition.
Her creme brulee is hands down the finest creme brulee I’ve had
this year. The creme is delicately lemon-flavored and so silky
that it must be savored very slowly. Over the top of the creme
is caramelized sugar, as thin and crackly as a fall leaf, tasting
(in a good way) like grilled marshmallows. Candied pieces of
lemon rind added a little chewiness – what a sinful delight!
A chilled strawberry Sauvignon souffle was less successful. It
tasted too much like whipped cream and not enough like strawberries,
but a multi-layered chocolate Grand Marnier torte, served in
a slice that could satisfy a table of six, had the consistency
of devil’s food cake with the slightly bitter edge of good, dark
chocolate.
Christine Snell has momentarily taken leave of Loulou to oversee
the dining room of the Snells’ new venture. With her good humor
and honest appreciation of her patrons, she creates an aura of
friendship that adds one more element of pleasure to dining at
Cocotte.
Cocotte (337 Fifth Ave. at Fourth Street
in Park Slope) accepts cash only. Entrees: $8-$21. For reservations,
call (718) 832-6848.
