Review: Cafe Provençal in Kirkwood

A number of people tried, in many locations over many years, to bring French bistro fare to a St. Louis restaurant, but Eddie Neill was the first to succeed.  His first Café Provençal, now 8 1/2 years old, was a leader as Clayton became "the place" to dine in St. Louis. For many years, the Hill had worn that crown. The Central West End was a successful challenger, but its reign was short-lived.

The first Café Provençal, on the site of Oliver's Ice Cream Parlor, began with good lunches, expanded to dinner, then Neill began to spread his wings and his influence.  Eddie's Steak and Chop, a few doors down the street, was next, a move that eliminated some of Provencal's crowding and offered diners more space. A second Café Provençal, in Kirkwood, provided a little Southern exposure, balance, and Neill, Leon Bierbaum, chef Claude Courtoisier and partners moved into the Central West End at Chez Leon.  Recently, Neill bought Malmaison from Gilbert and Simone Andujar, and is open and serving great French meals.  The restaurant, in exurban St. Albans, is one of the loveliest in the area.

Neill will be the chef, assisted by Brian Bernstein, Jared Jobe and Rick Pratt, and he is planning a mix-and-match service policy similar to those at all his other operations, offering meals either on a fixed-price or an a la carte basis.  Malmaison, which was the name of the country house that Napoleon built for his wife, Josephine, will have a three-course country-French dinner for $30, a four-course, slightly more elegant dinner for $40 and a let-it-all-hang-out 10-course dinner for $75.

Provençal, by the way, is cognizant of real estate prices – in Clayton, the three-course dinner is $25, the four-course meal $28, three dollars higher than Kirkwood.  

The area of France known as Provence is west of the Riviera along the Mediterranean, and Marseilles or Arles may be considered its capital.  There's lots of sun and sand and sea, and an amazing amount of seafood.  Garlic is a preferred seasoning, and olive oil is plentiful.  Grapevines, olive trees  and lavender plants dot the nearby hills, and the wines of the region tend to be light, with the world's top roses coming from towns like Bandol.  

The natural light has attracted artists for centuries, and it has been beautifully captured in masterpieces like the sunflower or wheat field paintings of Vincent van Gogh, who lived in Arles for a number of years.

In terms of the Cafés Provençal (or is it Café Provencals?), the menus have some overlap and some similarities, but are not identical. Chefs like John Schreiner in Kirkwood and Bernard De Coster in Clayton make the individual selections, and the Kirkwood menu and cooking style are slightly more Americanized than those in Clayton. They are, however,  divided into five areas (two more than Gaul, if you recall), including appetizers, soups, salads, main dishes and desserts.  An occasional main course has a premium of a few extra dollars, and both locations offer an assortment of first-rate French cheeses, either as an appetizer, a dessert or a separate course.   From bistros to gourmet palaces, practically every restaurant in France, where they are, by definition, French restaurants, has a cheese course.

Small importers of European wines, men like Kermit Lynch, Robert Kacher, Peter Weygandt and David Shiverick keep the selections modestly priced and mostly well-matched with the food, though that can be a tricky situation.  There are wines that are excellent matches for specific dishes, but individual tastes may cause diners to prefer another combination.  Don't be afraid to violate the cliched old rules; if you like red wine with fish, drink it.  The staff at the Cafes Provençal is well-versed in the wine lists and will offer generally good advice, but don't forget that they also have their own individual tastes or special favorites.

The menus change regularly, though pate, escargot and cured salmon, known generally as gravlax, are usually available and always good.  The pates are usually for slicing rather than spreading, but they show a good hand with brandy and herbs.  There is also an excellent French onion soup; this is a good soup house, a special attribute with winter coming up, and the pistou (French for pesto) and vegetable soups have been outstanding.   So has the wild mushroom.  Caesar salads are garlicky and excellent. A recent addition is the beet-goat cheese combination that is spreading through town with the rapidity of my crab grass, but the salad is still a delight.

Rugged country dishes like daube, a rich beef stew, are made with style and good spicing, and a chicken de Bergerac, not with a long nose but with a sort of Wellington crust over tender, juicy fowl was a real winner.  Steaks are good, and bearnaise sauce, with free-range eggs and a strong aroma of tarragon,  is so good it could make a slice of rubber tire into a good meal. A carefully trimmed double pork chop is charmed with a sauce of red wine vinegar. Managing tart and tangy without getting too sour is a delicate business that results in a sturdy, big-flavor sauce.   Fish are handled with care and a gentle hand in the spice jar.  A little Pommery mustard does wonders for salmon, and simple brown butter was perfect on tender, flavorful, slightly gelatinous skate wings.  Once an inexpensive fish that could be punched out in rounds and served -- and charged -- as if they were scallops, skate wings now have a following of their own.

Desserts can include the pastry skills of the French, but with an American accent.  On a recent visit, I had a superior mousse, extra dark, creamy and spiked with a bit of Gran Marnier for a hint of orange.  Superb texture, fine flavor and a portion sized to be a final fillip to the meal and not the final straw to upset the diner's stomach, if I may mix a metaphor.  A raspberry Bavarian was light and elegant, and I have been much impressed with a dacquoise, a nut meringue piled high with whipped cream.  

For many years, Neill had an interesting career in the restaurant business.  He would be hired to take a struggling restaurant and get it back on an even keel so the ownership could sell it.  When he opened the first Café Provençal, he told me he had learned a lot while being involved with failing restaurants and was hoping to have one of his own that would succeed.  So far so good.