Beauty and the Bistro

Cary Neff's Coquette spearheads Philly's French food renaissance.

by Elisa Ludwig

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Published: Sep 18, 2007

GOT BEEF: Coquette's beautifully grilled hanger steak is topped with caramelized onions and a fried egg. Photo By: Michael T. Regan (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

Tagliatelle may have Philly's dining scene in a stranglehold, but there's good reason to believe that French food is having a comeback moment. Even as we wave goodbye to Deux Cheminées and Pif, there's news of Olivier Desaintmartin's Zinc (formerly La Bohème), the almost-open Cochon on nearby Passyunk Avenue and even a Rittenhouse bistro on the way from Stephen Starr. It would seem that we are in the midst of a bright and buttery renaissance in Philadelphia dining — a nouvelle vague, if you will.

Leading the way is Cary Neff's Coquette Bistro, which opened in July in the storefront corner on Fifth and Bainbridge, a location that, until now, has never seemed like a convincing space for a restaurant. Coquette has finally made this dining room worth peering into from the sidewalk, with its warm light, pressed-tin ceiling and the tinted mirror lined behind the bar with gold-painted food-related witticisms ("Forget love. I'd rather fall in chocolate."). The bar itself is not yet operational — still waiting on a liquor license — so any vins you drink will have to be your own.

The raw bar, on the other hand, is in full effect. Neff, owner of Sansom Street Oyster House, clearly knows seafood, so take advantage of the offerings here. We sampled the house oysters, giant creamy Long Island Blue Points arrayed on crushed ice with vines of black seaweed, lemon wedges and twin cups of cocktail sauce and mignonette. The raw bar also features changing selections from both coasts. When we visited it was the Pacific Chef Creek oyster from Newfoundland, a plump dark-edged flower of a bivalve, and the Salutation Cove oyster from Prince Edward Island, which is juicy, salty and crisp.

Coquette is, of course, in its early days, but service is still unpolished. Our primary server was humorless and unsmiling. He looked distractedly around the room when taking our order, and practically threw our dishes on the table when they arrived. Another server asked us if we wanted pepper, nearly jabbing our meals with his pointed finger.

Yet even the threat of finger seasoning could not mar those dishes, and we were largely impressed with the kitchen's output. A luxuriant salad of warm potatoes is nestled in a nest of frisée with a garlicky vinaigrette and the most delicate, creamy omelet aux fines herbes you could hope for. Another salad of yellow and red tomato is crowned with crumbles of velvety-textured feta and a judicious swirl of sweet balsamic vinegar. The only hair you could split with smoky grilled sardines served on slices of French bread is that with two whole fish to a plate, it's more of an entrée than an appetizer portion. And then there's the boudin blanc, another generous plateful of grilled milk-and-cognac-spiked sausages served over warm du Puy lentils and braised lettuce flecked with mustard seed.

Roast chicken, the centerpiece of any great French kitchen, is marvelous, with golden papery skin and perfectly seasoned meat, its tasty jus dripping into pommes aligot, a silken purée of potatoes stirred with gratings of aged cheese. Equally dreamy is the Coquette bar steak, thick pink slices of grilled hanger topped with a fried egg and caramelized onions, served over remarkable spinach that is creamed without being drowned in dairy.

The scallops, pan-seared to a caramel brown crust, are sweet and succulent, as is their warm corn broth with tender leeks, though overall the composition is a bit skimpy. Two of the five clams on our plate came to the table unopened on our visit — when there're only a few to begin with, someone ought to check these things.

The braised rabbit with ratatouille and Nicoise olives features hearty, moist meat that falls off the bone into welcoming forkfuls of puréed potato. The sauce, however, is a thick, acidic tomato slather that overpowers the meat's delicate flavors.

Desserts include a list of homemade ice creams and sorbets. A dining companion complained that, with its crumbly texture and lack of sugar, the rosemary goat cheese ice cream was comparable to chicken. But since the actual chicken was so good, this fowl in dessert form could only be disappointing. Unfortunately, the same ice cream was mistakenly included on our pear tart. (It was supposed to be vanilla.)

While the pastries themselves arrived straight out of the fridge and were thus very difficult to attack without a very sharp knife, they are mostly worth ordering. An apricot tart is layered with a subtle hint of white chocolate, and the chewy bits of fruit are well supported by a buttery hazelnut crust.

The best of the lot is the chocolate napoleon, a crispy round tower of waferlike pastry layered with ganache and raspberry preserves, topped with a layer of hazelnut-studded chocolate and just slightly sweetened whipped cream. It was a bit of work to dig through its many layers with a spoon — perhaps we've been spoiled all these years by the soft, easy gratification of tiramisu. All the same, Coquette and its very solid French food is a welcome change.

(e_ludwig@citypaper.net)

Coquette Bistro and Raw Bar | 700 S. Fifth St., 215-238-9000, www.coquettebistro.com | Hours: Tue.-Sun., 5-10 p.m.; Sat.-Sun., 10 a.m.-3 p.m.; closed Monday. | Appetizers, $8-$13 Entrées, $10-$23 | Reservations recommended.

 

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