By Amy McCarthy
By Scott Reitz
By Scott Reitz
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Alice Laussade
By City of Ate
"It's the independents who pump the creative juice into the restaurant business," we romanticize, maybe while sipping herb tea or bruising our foreheads on wind chimes. "Vigorous entrepreneurs bring the vitality and creativity. The verve. The soul." Then they throw pots at the landlord or fill their pockets with investor funds and the place goes belly-up.
I must admit, I like a little corporate culture in restaurants now and then. A little discipline never hurt a restaurant, not in theory anyway. Yet far too often, corporate culture results in barely palatable examples of manufactured monotony. Then again, at other times you get Samba Room or Pappas Brothers Steakhouse.
6:30 a.m.-11 p.m.
8 a.m.-11 p.m.
8 a.m.-10 p.m.
Bistral Neighborhood Bistro and Bakery may rank with that pair with respect to how it's executed. It's the new McKinney Avenue corporate footprint planted by Dallas-based Richmont Corp., the firm that operates Wynnwood, which in turn operates Seventeen Seventeen in the Dallas Museum of Art.
Bistral isn't dazzling or glitzy or slick, even in a cheap way. And it certainly doesn't shovel out "look at me, I'm the chef" culinary stunts. But it doesn't take shots at those targets. The blurb on the menu says the restaurant is "Reminiscent of Europe, where locals frequent their favorite bistros for reliable, satisfying fare."
"It's meant to be just a casual place, come as you are, but you've got a chef in the back," says Richmont President and Chief Executive Officer Irene LaCota. "And the food's reasonable, and it's not just a destination restaurant. It's a place you come once, twice a week."
Jeez, every corporate restaurant wants that, especially one ostensibly poised to multiply like lines of tax code. But this one actually does make you feel like coming back. And it's not because of the decor. Handsome with lots of wood, the place is a bit chilly. Too many hard surfaces, not enough cush. Lots of Pottery Barn-like sconces and chandeliers -- many cockeyed and otherwise out-of-kilter -- speckle the dining room, some with amber shells to add a little warmth.
Bistral also has a zinc bar "displaying a metallic design characteristic of traditional French bistros. Zinc bars are extremely rare in the United States," Bistral's fact sheet points out. But unless you want to galvanize your belt buckle or your boot tips, zinc won't bring you back.
No, the reason for multiple visits here is that chef in the back -- and the fact that you can sample the food for between seven and 12 bucks.
Richmont was shrewd enough to draw on talent they already had stabled to draft the menu for Bistral: Raoul Orosa of Seventeen Seventeen. Orosa is as imaginative and well-endowed in the taste-bud department as they come. One of his concoctions is a pork chop in banana chutney. Yet this smooth condiment isn't made with banana, but with pan-fried papaya and currant blended with onion, sugar, and vinegar before it's pock-marked with dried cherries. It smoothly punches the pork with a slight puckering robustness. It would have been even better if the pork had a little more tenderness. Though moist, the dense, thick pork loin chop was tough and chewy with a center that never blushed, no matter where you cut.
But a side of tasty thyme-roasted potatoes, scattered with green bell peppers, proved irresistible.
Irresistibility also infected the trout, only it wasn't the fish that drove the fixation. It was the stuff that carpeted the plate: a rustic blend of nutty black lentils shuffled together with onion, tomato, and corn, creating a foil to the sweet, elegantly delicate trout in lemon-caper sauce.
This dish was crafted by new Bistral chef Garreth Dickey, former sous chef at the Green Room with a prior stint at Star Canyon. To bring this talent together into a cohesive blend, Richmont recently plucked FoodStar Executive Chef David Holben, who seems to leave a lively, yet understated, touch wherever he fiddles.
"I'm the person to help the [chefs] to bring them up to the best they can be," he says. "And then help the company to make as much money as possible."
Holben has that corporate touch down too, which partly explains why Richmont executives were always fans of his, avidly frequenting Mediterraneo in Plano. There was even a rumor that, at one point, Richmont offered FoodStar $3 million-plus for the restaurant, a bit of gossip LaCota firmly dismisses.
Yet corporate culture doesn't seem to be infecting the place with any significant detractions. And with Holben in place, it promises only to get better -- not that he doesn't have at least a little work to do.
Beef carpaccio, more cardboard-thick slices than paper-thin shavings, had a slightly soapy taste, though the mustard cream sauce neutralized much of that insipid flavor. The top of the dish was cluttered with thick strips of portobello mushroom: a stimulating touch, though I wondered whether it might have meshed better if the mushroom meat had been cut thinner or somehow more delicately and then freshly kissed with a sauté pan.