Reviving French food
With seasoning, LeClerc’s brasserie could help make French cuisine fashionable again
Franck LeClerc is trying to bring back French cuisine — the type we all grew up with, the type that has been taken for granted because it’s incorporated into other cuisines, the type that has regrettably fallen out of favor over the past two decades.
For the last 10 years, LeClerc has owned Cafe Claude, a charming bistro on Claude Lane. In recent years, he’s opened Claudine nearby, another Cafe Claude in the Marina, and Gitane, where he specializes in Spanish food.
With Gaspar Brasserie, which he opened in May, he’s made another bold attempt, financing a handsome, traditional-looking brasserie in the Galleria Park Hotel space that, since 2008, has been the Japanese-inspired Hecho, Midi and Perry’s. When you talk about a revolving door, failed concepts and a jinxed location, this could be the poster child. Will Gaspar turn it around?
Gaspar feels right for the awkward space, which includes a bar downstairs and dining room upstairs, with windows that gaze out over Sutter Street. At the entrance, the drama of dark burnished tin ceilings, saucer-like crystal chandeliers, heavy fabric drapes and tufted leather booths practically jumps out the door as it swings open to welcome guests. It’s a totally different vibe than most new restaurants.
The bar is carved out of the corner, and the room includes a row of banquettes. Even though it’s near the front door, the space feels quieter and more intimate than upstairs.
There’s not much that can be done to transform that challenging space, accessed by a steep staircase leading to a sloping ramp that seems long enough to be the runway for the Miss USA pageant. LeClerc repeated the same design details, but with a lower ceiling the space feels enclosed. Even when the place isn’t full, the reverberations from, say, a party of women on one side and businessmen into their third cocktail on the other can be deafening.
The French theme is reinforced by the dress of the waiters, who wear black pants, vests and white shirts. It’s clear they have been trained, but at times they don’t act like it. On one visit, after our server asked if he could explain the menu — and we said we were fine and ready to order — he described his favorite dishes, which turned out to be most of them. On another visit, the overenthusiastic server came to the table twice to see how our food was before we had a chance to taste anything. One time, plates were delivered to the wrong party, and it took forever to find someone to bring us salt for the table. Still, the staff is gregarious and seems to be striving to give diners a good experience.
The food produced by Chris Jones offers some modern twists, along with a few techniques I haven’t seen since the 1980s — at least that’s the last time I saw mashed potatoes piped onto a plate. On one visit the wild flounder ($25) sat on a scalloped raft of these potatoes.
I had a similar deja vu with the entrecote ($29), a gorgeous square of grilled meat, thick and expertly cooked. It was centered on a nest of greens and three logs of potatoes, and topped with mushrooms. Eating it was like a quiz in displacement theory: If I press on the steak to cut it, will the generous volume of potatoes spread off the plate and onto my lap? Not being good at scientific calculations, I gave up and deconstructed the tower.
On the other hand, dishes like escargot ($12) should please even the most demanding diner. The snails were as big as quarters, with a tender texture and earthy flavor delivering nuances of both fish and beef. They cuddled up with a cherry tomato confit, caramelized baby zucchini, yellow squash, blistered green beans and shallots surrounded by vivid green parsley oil with minces of fresh herbs. It shows where the kitchen might go.
A wedge of smoked salmon ($11) sandwiched between five layers of crepes was surrounded by what could stand in for fresh piles of confetti on Bourbon Street at Mardi Gras: Pearls of salmon caviar, bits of chives, minces of purple onions, a scattering of yellow
egg dust, balls of whole mustard seeds and white streamers of creme fraiche surrounded the main event. It tasted like a celebration in the mouth — a great combination and a portion that’s easily enough for two.
Other clever presentations followed: duck confit ($12) pressed into a crisp patty on top of a pink slice of pork belly, a bed of lentils and a few minuscule greens; and rounds of lamb sweetbreads ($13) leaning against an English pea pancake, with thick slices of trumpet mushrooms and hazelnut vinaigrette.
Lightly pickled local sardines ($7) were arranged herringbone-style with radishes, piquillo peppers and torpedo onions on a white bean puree. All these seemed nicely composed, but the simplicity of the soft-boiled duck egg ($10) stood out; the whole egg sat off center, surrounded by peas and lardons of country ham.
A good way to start if you want to enjoy a cocktail or one of more than 25 wines by the glass from the 85-bottle list is the charcuterie plate ($14), which includes a thick chunk of dry paté, a scoop of mousse and thin slices of duck prosciutto arranged around orange slices, cubes of beets and dollops of mustard.
A few dishes don’t come together, including the mussels ($15) with mustard and creme fraiche. It could have used a little more punch, and a spoon would have been nice to capture a little more of the sauce with the seafood.
One of the best salads ($12) is made with watermelon cut into round slices that serve as a platform for several types of tomatoes, golden drops of olive oil, and nuggets of blue cheese.
Not every dish works and some need more refinement, but it feels as if the kitchen is beginning to come together.
With the exception of the misguided piped potatoes, main courses are fairly straightforward, but not staid. Apparently inspired by the more than 30 types of fish stews along the French Mediterranean, Jones created his own version — striped bass and nicely seared scallops ($28) atop pureed potatoes, fennel and Moroccan tapenade, surrounded by a creamy fish broth enhanced with harissa.
The more stylized presentation of the duck breast ($27) belied its rich, earthy flavor; it was on a thick smear of carrot mousseline with hillocks of risotto, turnips and their greens. Grilled lamb ($25) , a knob of tender meat cut in two to reveal a rosy core, was served with a fat patty of sweetly spiced crepinette with tomato confit and a mix of shelling beans. The pistou, a classic sauce with garlic, olive oil, herbs and, in this case, fava beans, helped tie the elements together.
For dessert, our waiter let us know that his favorite was the Le Fraiser pour deux ($12), and not wanting to disappoint, we gave it a try. There was a lot going on — thick mousseline with roasted strawberries, capped with caramelized meringue, and a pistachio biscuit — and it was overly sweet so the flavors didn’t properly emerge. The best recommendation was Paris-Brest ($9) — rose-scented mascarpone and cream, with whole raspberries and a fruit puree.
From start to finish, it’s clear that Jones is growing into the job. Not every dish works and some need more refinement, but it feels as if the kitchen is beginning to come together.
It’s an encouraging sign that with new San Francisco places like Gaspar, Aquitaine and Monsieur Benjamin, it could be that well-crafted French food will again become a culinary trend.