French Vietnamese in SoHo

I’ve been away, in every sense of the term. California + Friendsgiving + Peppering of Visitors = Distracted Matty.  Anyway, I’m back and yes, I’ve been eating.

Taking out-of-towners to dinner is a task that requires much consideration. What kind of food do they like? Do I want to take them to a tried and true, or will we go somewhere for the first time together? Recently, the latter won and I found myself at Rouge et Blanc with 3 in tow.

I admit that I picked this venue based on a review from the NY Times which had, I thought, pointed me towards everything I would order, including the whole fried rouget. I’d start with monkey bread too. 

Wrong. Our cute yet timid waitress greeted us with news that the Rouget was eighty-sixed for the night. Oh, and that monkey bread? There was just enough in house for the main it accompanied, a vegetable curry. Did I mention I was dining with someone who despises curry? Bust.

I picked myself up off the ground, scanned the menu and ordered for the table, desperately trying to remember what dishes Mr. Asimov had deemed bland.

We started with the Heirloom Radish Salad, beautiful in presentation.  The crisp-cool radish slices were balanced well by pepitas and salty bits of pork. If this dish was to set the tone for the entire meal, I trust we would have left with grins bigger than one belonging to the Cheshire Cat. 

Next up: squid stuffed with short rib, perched on a bed of white beans and a radically green sauce. Flavors here are nice, but something wasn’t adding up texturally. Maybe it’s me, not used to this version of surf and turf.

Out came a salad of green papaya (a personal favorite) adorned with whole fried prawns. A looker, this dish would’ve hit every mark had the prawns not been a bit overcooked.

“So beautiful!” one of my cohorts exclaimed as she peeled back parchment paper to reveal an assortment of mushrooms cloaked in soy and garlic butter. The romantic text for this menu item ought to be replaced with “Umami Explosion.” Just saying.

The clouds before the kitchen parted, cute yet timid descended, and – gasp – plunked one piece of monkey bread down before us.  Everything that was promised and more.  Just not enough.

Then, there was the least satisfying dish of the night – the Barigoule. Spanish Mackerel and Prawn cooked perfectly. Scallops leaned towards the mushy side, and the sunchoke seemed to masquerade as a sea creature.  The redeeming quality was the lovely broth, perfectly balanced and practically begging to be a ride for a thick piece of hearth bread.

A final course of mustard-marinated lamb ribs arrived. Also on the plate: eggplant confit and roti bread. Spiced, fatty, and just a touch gamey, the ribs were a pleasant ending note to the meal. 

Would I return? I’m not in a rush, but the great wine list and the quiet, almost French-countryside ambiance left enough of an impression. Plus, I still need to get my hands on that elusive rouget.