I'm not sure why or when French cuisine became passé in the States, but most modern-day American and French-American chefs seem uncomfortable with the label, opting instead for vague/voguish descriptors such as "new world" or "new American." Perhaps the snootiness and stuffiness of traditional French restaurants are enough to scare off American diners, or maybe young restaurateurs are loath to pigeonhole themselves to such a dogmatic and disciplined cuisine. BISTR09 -- the latest venture from restaurateur power couple Damien Watel and Lisa Astorga-Watel -- is a celebration of two orthodoxies, both done confidently: traditional French (e.g., buttery sauces, duck, and offal) to satisfy the local francophiles, and an ingredient-driven "new American" bistro unafraid to embrace Asian and South American influences.
Damien Watel's classic French training is evident in favorites such as seared foie gras and a gloriously fatty duck leg confit. On a recent visit, the former shared bragging rights with winter black truffles and two buttery scrambled eggs stuffed inside their respective shells. It was a $25 appetizer that could have easily come off as gaudy in lesser hands. At BISTR09, however, it was an unabashedly decadent (and delicious) showcase for three staples of French cuisine. That same evening, the kitchen demonstrated equal prowess with a duck leg confit (subtly sweet with a red meat finish) and its rich cassoulet of white beans and rendered lardons.
The kitchen fares just as well with modern "bistronomie" fare, touting ingredients and cooking styles from across the world. A tempura-fried soft shell crab starter would have been a standout at any local Japanese restaurant, with a delicate flour-like gauze and a light, lacy structure. A twelve-ounce, grass-fed Argentinian ribeye bore a pleasantly herbaceous crust and rivulets of intramuscular fat. The side of chimichurri was "Argentino puro," but the accompanying legumes du moment and classic potatoes au gratin were unmistakably French.
Desserts at BISTR09, courtesy of Lisa Astorga-Watel's niece, are spectacular in the literal sense of the word. The chocolate mousse cannoli came stuffed with Kahlúa-infused pastry cream, a mound of dark chocolate mousse on the side, and a creme anglaise spiked with espresso. The components sound overwhelmingly rich on paper, but the boozy bite of the Kahlúa, the high cocoa content of the mousse, and the velutinous anglaise complemented one another. Less successful was a towering apple tart that was more style over substance. The dish was simply too sweet and needed *something* (chocolate sauce or a pinch of fleur de sel in the ice cream, perhaps) to balance out the flavors.
Service vacillates between laconic formality and loquacious informality depending on the vibe of the table. Old-guard '09ers tend to experience the former, whereas I (a young, inquisitive solo diner with deep pockets) invariably receive relaxed service and complimentary samples ("amuse bouches," to placate you pedantic francophiles). The informality, however, does not translate to laziness; team members are quick to refill glasses, clear used plates, and offer more bread. If I had one complaint regarding service, it would be the sheer number of specials the servers must commit to memory on a nightly basis. After listening to four or more specials, my mind begins to wander, leading to discomfiture between both parties. In this case, I blame the management, not the servers. Either limit the number of specials offered or print them out on a separate menu.
Nitpicks aside, BISTR09 is arguably the best restaurant of its kind in San Antonio since L'Etoile, the bastion of French cuisine that once occupied the same space in Alamo Heights. Nascent CIA grads might consider "French cuisine" a curse word, but Damien Watel and Lisa Astorga-Watel would never say, "Pardon my French." To paraphrase Laurent Gras -- chef de cuisine at L20 in Chicago -- the overall quest for perfection and consistency is what defines French cuisine in America. That driving force is evident at BISTR09. read more