Pass the seafood, please: Chilean seabass with bouillabaisse flavors and garlic toast and (background) seared rockfish at Passerelle.
photo: Michael LeGrand
January 31–February 7, 2002
food
Passerelle (French for footbridge) brings fine dining and ambiance to the suburbs.
175 King of Prussia Rd., Radnor, 610-293-9411. Lunch, Mon.-Fri., 11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m.; dinner, Mon.-Thu., 6–10 p.m., Fri.-Sat., 5:30-10 p.m., Sun., 5-9 p.m.; brunch, Sun., 11 a.m.-2 p.m. Wheelchair assistance. Reservations necessary. All major credit cards.
|
|
| |
|
Pass the seafood, please: Chilean seabass with bouillabaisse flavors and garlic toast and (background) seared rockfish at Passerelle. photo: Michael LeGrand | |
It was in 1987 that two young men, Marty Grims and Jean-Francois Taquet, made the visionary move of bringing fine French cuisine to the suburbs. In the improbable midst of an industrial development in Radnor, they fashioned a most enchanting venue — gardens with a creek running through them, swans floating on a willow-hung pond, a quaint footbridge crossing the rushing stream to the exquisite dining room within. It was an immediate success, and they even opened a smaller, casual, less-expensive bistro, Bravo, on the premises. But by 1992, the desire for autonomy led Taquet to open his own eponymous restaurant in Wayne, and Grims renamed the restaurant Passerelle (French for footbridge; very catchy) and brought in Allan Vanesko as executive chef.
I had almost forgotten, as I negotiated the footbridge one recent icy night, how absolutely gorgeous this spot was, especially in the bloom of spring. Indoors, the dining room was still as lovely — with its white, barnlike ceiling overseeing tables set at a pleasant remove. There are brilliant flowers everywhere, and etched glass panels, and the two special blue and rose Venetian glass chandeliers (which I would kill for) dominating the room. It’s a room for corporate dealing by day, romantic trysts at night, or just any special occasion — but it’s a room that should be enjoyed.
They have an excellent sommelier who knows the award-winning cellar well and recommends glasses of Chenin Blanc Old Vines from Chappellet ($8.50) to complement whatever we should order. Four different types of bread are then offered, with a cluster of butter balls, dotted with parsley, in a dish, looking like little chicks in an Easter basket. The menu is decidedly French, with all the requisite oils, essences and emulsions that appear on the finest menus now. We choose pan-seared diver scallops with black truffle essence ($13.50) that are perfectly done, with tiny balls of carrot and zucchini floating in the dark pool that surrounds them. The sweetness in the wine comes into play with these flavors, as it does with the soup. It is a crab and leek velouté ($9.50) that has no discernible cream but is so thick with sweet crab meat that it is almost unbearably rich. The dribbles of Glenfiddich and the sprinklings of chives do not hurt a bit — it’s like a glorious vichyssoise.
There are many appetizers (fricassee of escargot, porcini risotto, tuna tartare), but perhaps the most interesting is a trio of foie gras ($16) that delights us with a slice of foie gras, sauteed with caramelized green apples; slices of an unctuous terrine, glistening with a dab of Sauternes jam; and thin slices tossed with baby greens. Quite a trio, and my predilection for the terrine, which is not done everywhere, is more than satisfied. Again, the wine shines.
Decisions, decisions — more come with the long list of entrees, but we are having such a nice time just sitting in these civilized, quiet surroundings that we linger over our choices. To have the pistachio-crusted Chilean seabass ($33) or the ginger-soy glazed Pekin duck breast ($26.50)? We finally settle on the grilled ahi tuna with a dried apricot risotto ($32) and asparagus. A tart, sweet apricot coulis accompanies the rare slab of fish, and though the recipient of this dish likes it very much, I find the sweetness too much for my taste. We have decided to drink an Oregon Pinot Noir from Rex Hill, and the apricots don’t do it for me with the wine’s fruitiness. Much better is the veal chop layered with potato dauphinois ($34) — a noble piece of meat further enhanced by the generous amount of fresh morels in the burnished sauce.
For the second week in a row I break my vow never to have chicken in a restaurant; I can’t resist the foie gras stuffed free-range chicken breast ($26.50). The moist chicken encases the treasure of foie gras and is accented by black trumpet mushrooms, spinach and a divine gratin of creamy penne. Usually I don’t favor a dish with so many ingredients, but these all work so well together that I don’t mind.
Desserts ($7.50) are not extraordinary, but good. They have a Bartlett pear torte with a very short crust that is just right, a very intense chocolate mousse torte, and even more intense fresh fruit sorbets — cassis, raspberry and citrus. A tiny drop of Armagnac is all that is needed to finish off a nearly perfect meal.
Sipping our Armagnac, we reflect on how well-orchestrated the meal has been, how seamlessly the service tied it all together, how pleasant it is to be able to hear your conversation. We tell this to Vanesko, and his chef de cuisine Yann Chupin, who I remember from Chez Colette.
