Eating your chapeau

When I was 15, I ate my first snail. I was on a date at one of those faux fancy restaurants that serve mostly surf, turf and a self-serve salad bar. To my surprise, my date ordered a plate of escargot. The chewy land mollusks had come to our table drowned in hot garlic butter. I inspected, chewed, then swallowed. Not unpleasant, but more educational than pleasurable. It was from this point on that I developed an inexplicable bias against French cooking. May Julia Child strike me down for speaking against the mother of modern culinary technique, but it’s true. I have always misunderstood French cooking as the cuisine of butter, cream, snobs and snails.

Well, Julia, my bad. I’ll have to eat my hat.

Though French food may be thought of as highbrow, there is French dining for the masses. Modeled after the classic French bistro, Bidwell Street Bistro in Folsom aims to be the casual neighborhood place where locals pop in for a bowl of soup and a glass of wine, or feast on grilled steak and pommes frites (French fries). Bistros serve quality food to regulars who appreciate the merits of “regularity”—the state of having a relationship with a restaurant, its owner and employees.

Owner Richard Righton had worked several years in fine-dining establishments in France and sought to move away from overly haute cuisine, favoring the casual bistro idea. Folsom’s wealthier demographics encouraged him to start his new venture there. Though he jokes about the nice views provided by the local Target and Lowe’s, Righton says the restaurant benefits from easy access and parking of the strip mall location.

In just over 15 months, Righton has built a bistro with a California culinary twist to its menu and now about 65 percent of his customers are regulars. And it’s not hard to see why. The service is thoughtful and familial. The food is first rate and ranges from simple, cheap fare to more elegant, pricey offerings. One can have a substantial Caesar salad for $6.95 and a glass of wine for about the same; or splurge on a prie fixe dinner of French onion soup or Caesar salad, beef bourguignon or grilled chicken, and crème brulée or profiteroles (filled puffed pastries) for $22.95. The bistro offers more than 28 wines by the glass, another nice touch for those who like variety but don’t want a whole bottle.

I was tempted to order the artichoke soup provençal en croute or sauteed sweetbreads with madeira sauce and carrot puree to be a bit adventurous. But the Proustain in me wanted to be transported back to the past with a plate of escargot. Would these escargot be my madeleines? As I ate the meaty, almost mushroomy morsels, bathed in individual porcelain divots filled with Burgundy wine butter and roasted garlic, I was quite struck by how much better these were than my childhood snails. It was all the epiphany I had before I dived into the warm goat cheese bundles with hazelnut and balsamic reduction, ordered by my companion. The “bundles” were wrapped in a thin slice of zucchini. The goat cheese itself was pleasantly tangy, and tasted heavenly accompanied by the balsamic reduction.

We were also enjoying a 1999 pinot noir from the Artesa winery of the Carneros region, recommended to us by our waiter. The extensive list had strong local winery representation, which came as a pleasant surprise.

A short intermission separated our appetizers from our entrées, giving us a bit of leisure to enjoy our wine. I had almost ordered the duck confit (a preserved meat seasoned and slow-cooked in its own fat), but our waiter had raved about the grilled pork medallions with brandy soaked prunes. True to his word, the pork medallions were deliciously lean and perfectly grilled in a light sauce. The French green beans stood well mostly undressed, its subtle flavor emanating through.

As good as it was, the pork was eclipsed by the outstanding pan roasted mahi mahi. Cooked to a firmness, the fish had a wonderful flavor, which was complemented by a bed of rich leek fondue and a foie gras and mushroom ragout. The whole dish fused Californian and French and was on the lighter side, yet had a lot of depth in the flavors. I was so impressed by our courses that I had to experiment with dessert. We ordered the Savarin, a yeast bundt cake named after 18th-century gastronomic writer Brillat-Savarin. Personally, I would have preferred a more delicate, moist cake, but much enjoyed the fresh raspberries and cream that accompanied the cake.

Our waiter bid us a jolly farewell. Tomorrow, I should call him and ask when they might have some nice hat in season.