Orsay

"Hey Mon, I'm in town!"

I've been getting this message a lot lately. Dad has meetings often at his company's Manhattan office and one night I was lucky enough to hang out with him. We were contemplating going to a concert in the park, barring the deluge that was supposed to come didn't. Dad's a huge Bonnie Raitt fan and she was playing that night. Trying not to be a pooper without much success, I was exhausted (see below post) and didn't feel up for a concert. Besides that, it was a New York City scorcher, so I cajoled him into taking me out for a nice dinner instead. A Dad after my own heart.

We ended up in my ol' stomping grounds on the upper east side. Thanks to my uncle's recommendation, we tried the French bistro Orsay. I walked by it for two years, always wishing someone would take me to eat there someday. It has inviting red wooden paneling and cream-colored awnings that scream French brasserie. I have a soft spot for French brasseries, a la Balthazar, so it was always on my "to go" list.

The hostess was very friendly, picking us right up in the entranceway and asking us whether we preferred outside or inside. There was a huge party making a ruckus inside (no, France wasn't playing in the World Cup that night) and since I've always daydreamed about eating outside we picked a table along the sidewalk. So much for caring that much about the weather. It was more important for me to sit outside on their veranda then to eat inside in the air conditioning.

We ordered a couple beverages and glanced at the menu. Dad knew exactly what he was starting with: escargots, served classic-style with garlic, breadcrumbs, parsley and pastis. When they came to the table both our jaws dropped to the pavement. Normally, you get six in the little snail-friendly plate, but not at Orsay. Dad had a dozen juicy escargots now sitting in his lap. I had to hold my hand and fork back to resist trying before he took the first snail. For me, I went with something a little more vegetarian-friendly: haricots verts salad, served with shaved artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes, and truffled dressing. My salad was perfect for a hot summer day. The haricots were crisp and chilled, and the "toppings" worked really well with them. Sometimes I order meals with sun-dried tomatoes and they don't always mesh well taste-wise with the rest of the dish. But here they were right on. I am going to experiment with this salad on my own at home. Stay tuned for that adventure. Dad's escargots were little balls of warm juicy goodness. Mmm, I've never liked escargots until that night. Now I am no longer anti-snail, and I might order my own dish of the little guys one of these days. I could have dipped the pieces of bread in the empty holes of garlic and chopped parsley all night.

For our entrees, I chose the red snapper with eggplant caviar, warm bean salad, sherry vinegar and lemongrass dressing. Dad went for the wild duckling, blood orange glaze, chicory salad, warm heirloom potatoes, and roasted beets. He was debating between two things, per usual. When he asked me what I was having, I almost didn't tell him. Dad's famous for the ol' bait and switch. He'll ask you what you're getting. If you say you're debating between this and that, he'll say "Oh get that, I'm going to get this." Then when it comes time to actually ordering, he'll completely change his mind and what you could have gotten -well you'll just never know. The dishes came out and we were both wowed. My snapper had a thin crispy layer and was sitting on top of a mountain of beans. I couldn't wait to get my fork into it. Dad's duck was neatly sliced in thick pieces, with the potatoes on the side. I forgot to mention the last item we ordered -fries. You just have to order fries when you go to a French bistro. Theirs were the perfect density and saltiness. My snapper was thick and tender. The white meat of the fish was moist and flaked off with the slightest touch of the fork. Dad seemed slightly disappointed he didn't have a whole or half-duck in front of him. I think he expected it to be on the bone. I told him it's just how I liked duck, so I scored a piece. It was piping hot and tender, not too chewy, and the blood orange glaze had a slightly bitter taste to it, making the duck not too painfully sweet.

For dessert, Dad and I chose the key lime pie. I don't know what came over us, ordering key lime pie at a French restaurant. I should have known better. But that's what we did. I wouldn't order it again. I'd go for one of the more classic French dishes like profiteroles or souffle, but oh well. The key lime pie was kind of sleepy. Nothing very exciting about it, other than its chilled temperature tasted good in the heat. After a couple glasses of port we called it a night.
The service was top notch at Orsay. Our server was very keen on refilling our waters, refilling our wine glasses, and everything happened in a timely manner. Appetizers were perfectly timed, plates removed, entrees perfectly timed, and bread basket refilled. It was all very well rehearsed and I was continually impressed.

I hope you'll get a chance to go to Orsay like I did. I look forward to going back with friends and more family. Now it moves from my "to go" list to my "go back" list.

1057 Lexington Avenue, at 75th street
212- 517- 6400