5 /5
Rating
★
★
★
★
★
The Rue du Hâ -- not far from Bordeaux’s St. Andre Cathedral -- is one of those little side streets you pass by a dozen times but never notice. Yet, there is good reason these days to pay attention. At the very end, not a stone’s throw from the Palais de Justice and a tower from the 15th century fort that stood nearby, is a tiny jewel box restaurant simply labeled by a small, square blue sign “Restaurant Hâ.” The reason to be interested in Restaurant Hâ is Chef Grégoire Rousseau. There are no Michelin stars (yet) for this restaurant, but do not wait too long to go. Reservations, even for lunch, are highly recommended. Chef Grégoire is from the Perigord. North of Bordeaux, it is an area known for such culinary items as black walnuts, butter, beef, foie gras, and black truffles. So he ate well growing up, under the supervision, I suspect, of a Maman who was a very good cook. On his facebook page he says, “My cuisine is resolutely autobiographical.” Among the places he has worked since was a stint at the Plaza Athénée in Paris, cooking for Alain Ducasse, the man with more Michelin stars than anyone has ever had. It shows.We began with an amuse bouche, a bite to tease the tongue. On the plate were two puffs with black tops. Then there were tiny swirls of bright green cream of avocado. When you put one in your mouth and bit down there was a little explosion. The puffs were actually crackers, the perfect foil for the little dollops of avocado cream that you tasted next. Then there was a salad. In France, the type of tomato that is ripe right now is called Cour de Beouf because these ugly heirlooms resemble the heart of a cow. There were chunks of tomato, micro greens, beet and little slices of toast, all sitting atop a brown vinaigrette. But the real flavor agent of this dish was composed of little cubes of sturgeon. I though first they were simply raw, but upon reflection, they seem to be cook “ceviche style” with lemon juice. We had ordered wines paired to the dishes, and with this one we had a crisp chenin blanc from the Loire valley. The fish course was a slice of cod fillet, laid on a smooth and creamy bed of ancient grains, farro and barley. On top of the fillet was a bright yellow lemon sauce. The effect was that you got the citrus bite first, then the moist, tender fish, finished with the creaminess and nutty texture of the grains.The main course was “supreme de volaille”, a chicken breast. Surprising, no? Well, first of all this is a blue footed French chicken raised locally and allowed to run around in a pasture until its final day. So, the chicken has flavor.You get to meet the chef at this point in the meal. He comes out of the kitchen with a pot of sauce and dresses your poulet before you take your first bite, explaining the dish. What I didn’t know at the moment, and what I’d love to know now, is how he achieved the fantastic contrast between the crispy crust (the French call it croustillant) and the moist, tender meat beneath it. The taste was at once tender, crunchy and flavorful, made more intense by the sauce, which was a reduction of chicken stock made from the bones of the poulet that had provided its breast.With the chicken was a carrot, cooked tender crisp, a single beet green leaf, and a cracker made of buckwheat. There were also slivers of roasted potato, and, finally, a single roasted cherry.With our main course we drank glasses of Cru Monplaisir 2015. It is a red from Graves; 75 percent merlot, 15 percent cabernet sauvignon, and 5 percent cabernet franc. It was an inky dark red, smooth with cherry notes and lots of depth.Next came dessert. In this case, bitter chocolate crackers, put down over two custards -- one chocolate and one vanilla. The crackers were also dotted with a lime cream. It was the perfect bitter/sweet touch to end the meal.While my wife had another glass of the red, our server suggested I try a glass of armagnac for my digestif. It was smooth and nutty. Finally, there were coffees and we were done. I didn’t get a chance to talk to the chef at any length because a party of eight came into this 20-seat restaurant around the middle of our meal. But what I did notice is that no one in the kitchen got into a hurry.The kitchen staff is only three people, the chef and two sous, who I read later, are brothers. The front of the house was run by our server, who brought out dishes, served wine, made coffee and took care of those who were ready to pay.No voices were raised. No one seemed in a rush. No one seemed to be in anyone’s way. It all seemed like a very choreographed ballet. Amazing.