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Tournesol
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You'll find that happiness lies right under your eyes, right in your own backyard. Our latest discovery isn't quite in our backyard, but it's only a few blocks from our backyard. Husband Bob discovered a bistro-style restaurant called Tournesol (French for sunflower) while out for an evening constitutional this past summer, and we're both glad that he was paying attention as he strolled. Just open since the spring, Tournesol is a real find and a great addition to our neighborhood. On an evening in late September, as I relaxed after my Chet Baker concerts, we ate dinner there with the Webmeister and with Greg, a local freelance writer and photographer whose photos are going to adorn my redesigned Web site early next year. Tournesol is a warm and cozy place that equally suits a convivial party like ours or a romantic twosome. With only 70 seats in the house, every person there can receive personal attention from a staff that has hardly changed since opening day. Everyone from Michael, the owner, through Elizabeth, our waitress (herself a budding photographer), and even Julio the busboy do their best to make you feel welcome and to keep the service smooth and friendly. And Chef Bob Zrenner's cooking makes every course a pleasure. The standard menu offers seven appetizers, four salads and ten entrees. These have been supplemented on each of our visits by a few special appetizers and entrees, including a vegetarian dish of the day. The menu starts at French bistro food, including such classics as French onion soup, steak frites and beef daube, but there are a few more contemporary, though unobtrusive touches that lighten some of the heavy parts of bistro cuisine and let you leave for the evening feeling slightly less guilty. Knowing that the portions tend toward the large, we ordered three appetizers that we kept circulating among the four of us. We selected one of the day's specials: sweetbreads sautéed and served with roasted figs and a port reduction. The presentation was straightforward and to the point, and the sweetbreads, a dish that's easy to do badly, were light and flavorful. We had a lively discussion of whether cattle have a thymus gland, and, if not, what sweetbreads really are. It must be said that not everyone at the table partook, and the comparative anatomy class probably didn't help. Everyone, however, dug into the tart of onions caramelized with bacon and the escargot fricassee. The escargots were perfect for people who don't want to be bothered with shells and picks. Each little snail had been removed from its shell and sautéed with cremini mushrooms and garlic in butter. All our entrees were from the standard menu, all were freely shared at the table, and all were superb. A pan-seared trout filet was served with small Brussels sprouts and capers in a brown butter. A cod filet was roasted and served with rice, arugula and a well-made rouille. Beef daube had good-sized chunks of beef and root vegetables stewed to perfect consistency in a rich sauce with mashed potatoes that seized Bob's fancy almost to the exclusion of the meat. And the steak au poivre was nicely crusted, not too tongue-biting, and served with both spinach and more of those potatoes. The wine list has a decent spread of types and prices of wine, and also does the diner the favor of grouping them according to characteristics. So whether you're looking for an oaky chardonnay or a lighter-bodied red, you don't have to either bring your copy of Wine Spectator with you or spend fifteen minutes consulting with the sommelier. You know that I'm not a dessert person, but those who are were well pleased with the two that our table ordered. The fruit tart of the day was lemon, garnished with fresh blackberries and accompanied by a cherry coulis. The Webmeister couldn't pass up the trio of custards: mini portions of excellent crème caramel, crème brulee and pot de chocolate. With the dessert course, Michael Smith, the owner, treated us to a quartet of dessert wines: an orange Muscat from California, a domestic eiswein from Oregon (Michael told us that it's made by freezing the grapes, rather than waiting to pick after the first frost as the Germans do), a French (mais certainement) sauterne and a port-like entry from South Africa. Tournesol is the kind of laid-back place where I didn't feel at all out of place doing a riff on Happy Birthday for the celebrant at the next table. We won't stop going until we've tried the whole menu; then we'll take it again from the top. Tournesol |
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