BAGATELLE
1 Little West 12th Street (near Hudson Street)
212-488-2110
bagatellenyc.com

    When entrepreneurs Aymeric Clemente and Remi Laba opened the first Riviera-styled Bagatelle location in NYC's Meat Packing District in 2008, it was decidedly intended to be a scene—or, as Clemente put it, “a vibe restaurant”—whose decadent Saturday brunch was the talk of the town, even during the height of the recession.  Seven branches followed in ports like Rio, San Tropez and St. Barts.
    “As the waiter soars through the air, he does so against a backdrop of patrons fist-pumping Champagne flutes, flashing cameras capturing pictures ripe for Facebook and a dozen young women clad in sequins, stilettos and Chanel bags climbing onto chairs, banquettes, even tables—any elevated surface that is sturdy enough to dance on.” So wrote a New York Times reporter in 2009, noting that, “Through the window this afternoon, Mr. Laba observed two young men talking to the doorman about securing a table. `They will be turned away,’ he predicted. And, if they had been two beautiful women? `They’ll be sent to the bar,’ he said. `I may even seat them.’”
    Music via a D.J. began after 11 p.m. Purely as a stunt, a $1,000 “Mauboussin Mega Sundae” consisting of vanilla ice cream, Dom Pérignon Rosé and sorbet topped with chocolate truffles, macarons, whipped cream, chocolate vodka sauce and "gilded brownies" with gold  leaf and a ring of gold and black steel was promoted on the menu.
    So evident was the intent of Bagatelle’s owners to make their operation a scene in the days when Eminem and the Black Eyed Peas were all the rage that the restaurant was largely ignored by the food press (the Times reported on but never reviewed it). Now, in a new location a block away and light years from 2008, Clemente and Laba are trying to garner more respect for the food, and in hiring young Nicolas Frezal (below), a native of the South of France, the menu most certainly deserves more serious attention.  Frezal is a graduate of top Michelin restaurants like Le Taillevent, Restaurant Le Meurice, and L'Ami Jean in Paris, before moving to NYC to work at Restaurant Daniel and as sous chef at Jean-George Vongerichten’s The Mark. Now, at Bagatelle, Frezal intends to make his own mark.
    His steak tartare ($20) shows him as his elemental best, gambling everything on the freshest, finest chopped beef, set on crispy rice cakes to add more texture.  The tomatoes in his tomato salad with goat’s cheese, kimchi lime paste and a vinaigrette ($16) are as sweet as they come right now, while his grilled octopus ($19), done à la Niçoise with Kalamata olives, is of just the right tenderness without being overcooked and the acidic addition of tomato confit, along with potatoes and aïoli, makes this one of the best in town. He also does a few creditable pizzas—really more flatbreads—one with so-so Australian truffles shaved on top ($27— but more about this price later).  Gnocchi Parisienne ($25, $36 with truffles),  which more often than not is a floury, mushy mess, was a textbook example of how they should be made, with a truffle sauce (left).
    Among the main courses I enjoyed were impeccably sweet scallops with sautéed quinoa, English peas and a lush Parmesan saffron sauce ($39).  So, too, large prawns came with a delicious herbed risotto and a light but rich Pastis-scented  cream sauce ($48).  A simply roasted half chicken ($35, $69 whole), wonderfully crisp, was also treated to truffles (below).  
    A bavette of Australian wagyu ($45) showed why it is just not worth the price or effort to import beef that doesn’t come close to the flavor of a USDA Prime strip steak.
    Desserts ($13) are very traditional, but all very good—crème brûlée, chocolate mousse, peaches and cream.
    Frezal has made his intentions clear that he wants people to love his cuisine, but the management does not make it easy for a guest to want to return.  Sad to say, they gouge: five bottles of water, not ordered, were $50 on the bill, and somehow for four people the waiter managed to shave four of those inferior Australian truffles onto our food for a total of $156, with no mention of price!  The mark-ups on the wine list also are very high, with few bottles under $100.  (Incidentally, Bagatelle’s bill lists percentages for tipping, apparently  because so many Europeans pretend they don’t know they’re supposed to tip in America.)
    These deliberate overcharges marred what, up until then, had been an enchanting evening in a place I’d certainly go back to for Frezal’s food—he said he’d make me a classic bouillabaisse this fall—but it seemed clear that the owners believe their clientele are of a kind that doesn’t bother to look at their bill.  They really, really should. 

Bagatelle is open for lunch and dinner nightly; Brunch on Sat.

NOTES FROM THE WINE CELLAR

ANGÉLUS TAKES ITS TIME ENTERING THE 21ST CENTURY
 By John Mariani
Photos by G. deLaubier
   
For me the best part of being a wine writer is not the opportunity to taste so many wines in so many places but to meet the passionate winemakers who have devoted their lives to maintaining a long history of excellence, whether it’s an Italian like Angelo Gaja or a Californian like Michael Mondavi.  So, being invited to lunch in New York at Le Bernardin by Stéphanie de Boüard-Rivoal of Angélus in Saint-Emilion was an occasion I would not have traded for a thousand tasting sessions.
   

    Angélus takes its name from a centuries-old Catholic tradition of reciting prayers three times a day, often marked by the pealing of church bells in the morning, at midday and in the evening.
        The estate itself dates to 1795, when Charles Souffrain de Lavergne and his wife, Catherine-Sophie, made their home in the wine region of Saint-Emilion.  At the beginning of the 20th century ownership passed to the Laforest family, which runs it today under Hubert de Boüard de Laforest, Jean-Bernard Grenié and, as of 2012, Stéphanie de Boüard-Rivoal, who is part of the eighth generation of the Boüard family; her cousin ,Thierry Grenie-Boüard, has recently joined her.
    It was Hubert who elevated Angélus’s status in Saint-Emilion, which had enjoyed the Grand Cru appellation since the first classification of Saint-Emilion wines in 1954, but rose to Premier Grand Cru in the (albeit controversial) 2012 re-classification.  (The others are  Château Pavie and Château Ausone.)  Angélus’s 96-acre vineyard lies in a natural amphitheater with concentrated sunlight and good drainage, where the Merlot grows well on a clay-rich hill, while the Cabernet Franc enjoys the clay and limestone at the foot.   The blend at Angélus is usually around 60% Cab Franc and 40% Merlot, without the Cabernet Sauvignon that distinguishes most of Bordeaux’s red wines, although the estate grows a small amount of the grape.
    At one time Angélus wines spent no time aging in oak, but Hubert and oenologist Emmanuele d’Aligny-Fulchi now ferment in stainless steel, concrete and oak vats, with 18-24 months aging and bottling taking place 20 to 26 months after harvest, for a production of about 100,000 bottles. (The estate also makes a second label, Le Carillon d’Angélus.)
    Stéphanie de Bouard-Rivoal, 34 (below), has all the breeding of what would otherwise be called a “gentleman vigneron,” but she is actually the third woman to preside over the estate.  Tall, with long honey-brown hair, she speaks fluent English and enjoys telling of how fiercely committed her family is to Angélus, noting that, “My great uncle was proud that he had never set foot on the Left Bank of the Garonne River,” which bisects Bordeaux.
    Stéphanie, on the other hand, is a global ambassador for the estate, insisting with fervor, “The commitment for me is almost like a priestly vocation, which I take up with faith, passion and gratitude. We are only the guardians of a history that preceded us and will survive us, so our role is to sustain it in the best conditions we will be able to achieve.”  Prior to her taking over, the estate was able to coax James Bond to drink L’Angélus in Casino Royale (2005) and she made sure he did so again in Spectre (2015).
        Over a lunch of tagliatelle noodles with crab, scallop and lobster in a black truffle emulsion, then pan-roasted squab with truffled Savoy cabbage and a red wine salmis sauce, we tasted two vintages of L’Angélus, 1999 and 2004. Both reminded me of the distinctive flavor of Saint-Emilion at its best: robust but velvety, supple but with good tannins, fleshy but well textured, always revealing an identifiable brick-like aroma. They mature earlier than many Bordeaux and are, therefore, easy to love long before the wines of the Médoc.  The 1999 was a difficult vintage because hail forced early picking,  but it is nevertheless a wine of real character that shows off its limestone-clay terroir well.  The depth of the wine is now in its glory, and this is a vintage to drink now.
    The 2004, which Angélus characterizes as “Le Savoureux,” began and continued to worry vignerons through summer, but by the time of harvest in mid-October conditions had improved greatly, resulting in a wine still showing a freshness of fruit and a mellowing of tannins, all rounded by the Merlot and given spice by the Cabernet Franc, which makes the estate’s suggestion that the wine should be at its best in 2025 to 2035 disappointing to all, like myself, who would love drinking this every year till then.
    Angélus has a new label, but in the very best sense, it’s the same old wine in a brand new bottle.  The label is a nod to the 21st century, but the wine is testament to more than two centuries of good soil and good stewardship.