French kiss
My idea of a romantic evening usually includes some combination of Hong Kong action film, whisky and PVC, but that didn't stop me from going all Meg Ryan at Brasserie Parisienne Chez Lautrec, a French restaurant built around every Paris-as-city-of-light-and-love cliche in existence.
There's something endearing about its unironic appreciation of that city's aphrodesiac, gluttony-inducing qualities. If, unlike intrepid reporter Dolores Cruz (see opposite page), you can't actually be there, then the next best thing is indulging yourself at this cobblestoned, ivy-wreathed reproduction, complete with Toulouse-Lautrec scenes and bits of the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe.
But all the hand holding and hair twirling of my inner Meg could not tamp down my more carnivorous impulses, which involved indulging in what turned out to be the
High point: Veal and quail and foie gras, oh my. In the usual run of things, all of the above are guaranteed to make me feel especially sadistic, what with visions of expiring, force-fed ducks and immobilized calves, not to mention the whole process of nibbling the flesh off teeny bird bones.
But Brasserie Lautrec's decadent vibe lured the innocent bystander and I into ordering quail stuffed with truffles, hot foie gras with apple and apricot, and veal medallions with chestnuts and were thrilled with the results. The quail was moist and tender, the foie gras melt-in-your-mouth delicious, and the veal light and succulent. Equally wonderful was the creme brulee (creamy and subtle) and the crepes suzette in Grand Marnier (almost too sweet but just right with espresso).
We washed all this down with a decent burgundy a J. Faiveley Domaine de la Croix Jacquelet (zl. 260). The wine list (available online at www.chezlautrec.com.pl, sans prices, along with the rest of the menu) is heavy on French wines, of course, but also includes a fair sampling of other new and old world varieties. Most are in the zl. 90-zl. 400 range, with some well over the zl. 1,000 mark.
Low point: The accordion player who, as my dinner companion pointed out, made the place feel more like Oktoberfest than the oh la la land. In other respects, Brasserie Lautrec nimbly navigates the fine, fine line between enjoyably over-the-top and the ridiculous, but aurally it lands straight in the deep kitsch end of the pool.
Miscellaneous: My only other quibble is equally non-food related, and pertains to the menu. For such a swanky place, I find it odd that Brasserie Lautrec would settle for awkward and/or ungrammatical English translations of its menu items.
If you're going to bother having a trilingual (Polish, French, English) menu, do it right. I'm not qualified to judge the French descriptions (although the lack of any accents in suspicions), but entries such as "Turbot fish stuffed with anchovis onto celery nest" and "Pike-perch with safran sauce" are distracting and jarring in a place that is otherwise so flawlessly professional. The same kind of weirdness hovers over the wine list, which doesn't provide the vintages of any of the wines. Minor points overall, perhaps, but irritating nonetheless.
Service: Superb. Judiciously paced, helpful, and discreet. Our waiter's ability to slip dishes and bottles on and off our table inconspicuously helped prolong the illusion of privacy and intimacy.
Atmosphere: A theme restaurant for the affluent, in the best sense of the word. Perfect for seductions and suborning diplomats of small but strategically important nations.
Prices: Steepish but worth it. A three-course dinner for two with cocktails and wine came to zl. 598 ($133).
When to go: Evenings, with lots of lolly and someone who doesn't object to the kind of conspicuous displays of public affection prompted by the prospect of a zl. 6,800 Chateau Petrus bordeaux cru classe. Recommended.
