Lavandou (Cleveland Park, 03/09/09) - J'habite aux Etats-Unis

J'habite aux Etats-Unis. That's about all the French I know. And I do live in the U.S., so it's both impressive and accurate when I bust that out at parties. How worldly I am.

My knowledge of French food is not much better. I've certainly consumed my fair share of crepes, confit and coc a vin (see alliteration usage in previous post) to know that the cuisine trends towards the rich, heavy and flavorful. But I've only just in recent years been starting to pay attention to the difference between a good and bad hollandaise. From what I'm beginning to understand, French food, possibly more than any other food, is about perfection. I mean, how did that rat in "Ratatouille" know how to balance those flavors so perfectly?! Wait....

Anyway, J and I are on a French kick. We're going to France soon, so we've been trying to at least get some context for what we're about to be tasting. We've even decided to have some old friends over for a dinner next weekend, the theme being....exactly.

So in the spirit of "research," J and I went to Lavandou in Cleveland Park. I'd been once before, many years ago, but didn't remember much about it at all. We had never really had an excuse to try it, considering Petit Plate, L'Enfant and Cafe Bonaparte are all so close, but decided that Monday night was the perfect night for an adventure - or at least what qualifies as one on a Monday night.

I will say this. If Lavandou is what France has to offer (and I realize it's not, but humor me), I think our trip will be a good excuse to lose some weight. I was really excited when we walked in. We were greated by a staff of obviously Franco origin (else just really big fans of Pepe Le Pu) and were shown to a lovely little table by the window. The place screams French country style and is, I will admit, pretty romantic. But the food just didn't hold up at all.

I ordered a fennel and apple salad to start. I was actually excited because it came garnished with Roquefort cheese, and, given the impending embargo, I wanted to taste it one last time. Placed on the table, it actually looked beautiful and refreshing. But the execution on this painfully simple dish was just pathetic. Neither the apple nor the fennel was crisp. Both tasted as though they had been sitting under a warming lamp for about 1/2 hour. The roquefort was almost tasteless, as was the oil drizzeled around the plate. An utter failure.

For the main course, I ordered a hanger steak. The steak itself was actually pretty good. Really, really simple, but full of flavor. The problem was that each piece was cooked completely differently. Some pieces were WELL done. Others, almost rare. It was good for splitting with J (as she refuses to eat meat that hasn't been turned grey on the fire), but showed a lack of attention.

The puree of celery root which came with it was...hmmmm....how do I put this....awful. It wasn't watery and inconsistent in texture. The flavor might have been good if the chef hadn't run out of salt. Well, I just assume he ran out of salt, because why else wouldn't he put any salt in it?!

One final note. J ordered a vegetarian sampler for her entre - basically just a combination of most of their side dishes. They were out of the carrot souffle (to which J was really looking forward), so she opted for the tomatoes with garlic. After messing up the order (bringing the sun dried tomatoes instead), the waitress finally deliever the proper order in a little dish. One taste and J handed me the fork saying, "taste this. It tastes like a barn." Indeed, it did. Just like a barn. Wet hay, sheep, you name it. I don't know what the hell they put in there to make it taste so bad, but we actually laughed when the waitress asked us how we enjoyed it. I know that sounds mean, but it was REALLY bad.

So, we won't be going back to Lavandou. Too bad. I've always liked the look of that place. But you would figure that a place that had survived this long would have something to show for it. Lavandou does not.