Le Petit Chateau

Molten chocolate cake is all that its name implies at the end of a meal in this French country setting.

By: Tom and Kate O’Neill
   Le Petit Chateau aims high. Its Web site announces, "We ask you to prepare for not just any meal, but a true gastronomic experience in the country French tradition." We visited with our expectations set accordingly.
   After a pleasant greeting, we sat five minutes before a server visited the table, and then confusion reigned as two servers, separately, arrived to take our orders. Once the meal was in motion, the service sparkled. A demitasse of a frothy, delightful cappuccino-like soup captured the essence of mushrooms and launched the meal auspiciously. But the appetizers and main courses that followed were disappointing, marred by either poor conception or indifferent preparation.

Le Petit Chateau

121 Claremont Road

Bernardsville

(908) 766-4544
Food: Disappointing; excellent desserts

Service: Informed, attentive, polished

Prices: Three-course prix fixe $65; some selections incur surcharges

Cuisine: French inspired

Atmosphere: Handsome, romantic

Vegetarian and Vegan Options: A glazed vegetable entrée

Hours: Lunch: Tues.-Fri. 12:15-2 p.m.; Dinner: Tues.-Sun. 5-11 p.m.

Essentials: Major credit cards accepted; on-street parking; liquor
license; award-winning wine cellar; wheelchair accessible; reservations
appreciated.

Directions

   The building, with half timber construction, resembles a French country restaurant in Normandy or Alsace. Tables are draped in white linen and each bears a small lamp with a white, beaded shade. The comfortable chairs are cream colored French provincial. The center of the room is dominated by a large floral display, with long leaves that reach out to tickle the ear of those seated near it, as we were. A colorful, neo-impressionist painting of Paris’ Café de Flore decorates one wall. When full, as it was during our visit, the room is noisy, with acoustics that can make your neighbors’ conversation seem louder than your own.
   Our tuxedo-clad server proved to be a Dublin-born version of the jowly character actor S.Z. (Cuddles) Sakall, who memorably played the waiter in Casablanca. He was charming and, fortunately, observant; when he returned to refill our wine glasses, he noticed that the bottle, which had been resting in an ice bucket between our table and the next, was emptier than it should have been. He deduced that diners at the next table — or their server — had inadvertently topped off their glasses with our wine. He returned in a few minutes with a new half bottle for us.
   The wine cellar has won awards from Wine Spectator Magazine, which rates it as offering 1,000 selections. It is particularly strong in its offerings from California, Burgundy and Bordeaux. The prices are high; we saw few choices at less than $40 and many with prices well into three figures. A separate list of wines by the glass ($8-$25, with some bargains) is available. We ordered a bottle of Viré-Clessé ($42), a white Burgundy, one of the least expensive selections. Soft and lightly floral, it lacked the expected mineral edge that would have better complemented our seafood.
   Dinner is served as a three-course, prix fixe meal ($65). The appetizer list included dishes familiar from "continental" dining of 30 years ago — Caesar salad prepared tableside; escargot in pastry with brie — as well as more contemporary and innovative selections, such as braised asparagus with white port fumé or crispy porcini mushrooms with black truffle citrus. We chose braised veal cheek ravioli with herbed foam and pan-seared shrimp over marinated portabella mushrooms. The single ravioli was round, about three inches across. Its firm pasta wrapper was stuffed with chopped, savory veal with a light, bubbly brown sauce. While the taste was rich and full, the dish lacked grace notes of contrasting tastes or color. The unusual combination of shrimp and portabellas in our second appetizer would have been a delightful invention had the mid-size shrimp not been cooked to a rubbery consistency. The sliced mushrooms, cooked and served in an aromatic stock, were dark and sublimely juicy, with a robust, earthy flavor.
   The menu lists about seven entrées, including a tempting vegetarian option: glazed vegetables with black truffle potato. Two specials were also available: boeuf bourguignonne and sole en papillote (for two). We made our choices from the regular menu. Flounder pain blanc with tomato confit and port cream sauce made an attractive presentation, but the combination was less than the sum of its parts. The flounder was delicate, and the cubes of toasted white bread arranged checkerboard-style on its surface added a pleasing crunch and subtle, nutty flavor. But it was presented atop a large serving of acidic tomato confit, which clashed with the delicate fish rather than enhancing it. The other entrée featured diver scallops that were mismatched with an orange butter snow pea fondue. It proved to be a citrusy, acid-sweet sauce with a generous quantity of slivered snow pea pods. The strong flavors of the orange sauce and the seared, caramelized scallops were discordant, and the snow peas contributed little to taste or texture.
   At dessert, we found the excellence we had anticipated at the start. Molten chocolate cake was all that its name implies: the dark-as-night cake held at its core warm, bittersweet chocolate, almost as dense as the sauce on a sundae. The Grand Marnier soufflé was both beautiful and tasty — hot from the oven, puffy on the outside, gloriously gooey within, with the orange-flavored liqueur providing as much perfume as flavor.
   Le Petit Chateau has attracted good reviews from others. But on this evening it fell far short of our expectations. It was less poor execution of the recipes that left us dissatisfied, but rather the conception of the dishes themselves.