Fiending for French Fast Food? (and I don’t mean fries…)
Jen

Le Petit Robert Bistro
468 Commonwealth Avenue, Kenmore Square
617-375-0699
www.petitrobertbistro.com

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know exactly what a bistro is, but I’m sure I’ve been to many. It might come down to pure semantics, but I was curious…does a café offer drinks, and a bistro, food or do they serve both? (And while we’re at it, what’s the difference between a tavern, a bar, and a pub? Anyone?) Courtesy of my friends at Wikipdiea, I found my answer: “A bistro is a familiar name for a French café serving moderately priced simple meals in an unpretentious setting.” For those of us willing to admit to a deficiency in knowledge of restaurant classifications, this explanation might come as a surprise. Unpretentious? Nearly every definition I found contained this operative word…

After a bit more clicking, I discovered that although there is some speculation as to the etymology of the bistro, it is believed that after the battle of Waterloo in 1815, the Russian soldiers in Paris experienced somewhat of a culture shock when it came to French dining. What would any burly, vodka-breathing, gun-toting Russian do when he’s hungry? Simple: vehemently pound his fists on the table yelling at the waiters, “Bistrot! Bistrot!” (“Faster! Faster!”), hence the name bistro. While indulging in this mental picture, enjoying a light chuckle, I suddenly realized that the French(with the help of the Russians) invented the first fast food establishment! Someone call Morgan Spurlock, I just found the sequel to Supersize Me.

With this in mind, I ventured on to my birthday dinner at Le Petit Robert Bistro with an empty stomach and a potential business enterprise. While perusing the menu, my roommate (a Petit Robert veteran) was quick to point out that in a matter of moments we would be enjoying scrumptious bread straight from the oven. She added, “When my boyfriend proposes to me, it better be at a restaurant where they serve warm bread and soft butter.” To my response, “…and what if he doesn’t?” she replied, “obviously, he shouldn’t be my husband.” For his sake, I thought to myself, I hope on that special day he doesn’t take her for sushi…

The type of guy who might propose at Le Petit Robert Bistro probably wouldn’t be carrying a white gold 2 carat princess cut, but he’ll certainly find a fresh baguette, perfectly warmed and crispy enough to leave oven dust on your fingers after tearing off a bite. At this quaint Kenmore Square eatery, I didn’t find myself gasping for air in a sea of adoring couples, but in the company of quietly chatting friends, coworkers, give-or-take a few first dates. Keep yourself in check if you begin to see your fellow diners and/or waiters through rose-colored glasses, as the red glow emanating off the heating lamps in the open kitchen might be what’s distracting you. Overall, the atmosphere is quite pleasant. Low lighting and quiet music combined with brick walls and a subtly decorated interior left me feeling warm and fuzzy. In true, unpretentious form, this bistro falls somewhere between casual and romantic.

After taking in my surroundings, I quickly moved onto the first and most important choice of the evening: red or white? The wine list contains a generous selection from various regions of France as well as domestic bottles from California. When I looked up to ask our waiter for wine suggestions, I saw that he resembled to the scrawny Parisian waiter I had envisioned just moments earlier(and I proceeded to picture him scurrying from table to table to serve ravenous Russian soldiers). Much to my delight, he responded in a succulent French accent, "I recommend the Chateau Duplessy, 1er Cotes de Bordeaux, France." I had to restrain myself from asking him to read the entire wine list, so I quickly smiled and accepted the bottle before he could tell that the red in my cheeks was not from the heating lamps. The wine was more expensive than my entrée and dessert combined, but it certainly was divine.

The menu, from what I’m told, is typical of French bistros. I was having difficulty making a decision once again(and I wanted to hear that sexy accent) so I put on my best diner-in-distress expression and deferred to the waiter’s recommendations for the second time. Unfortunately, he lost some points on this one because my Roast Saddle of Lamb was nothing more than average; perhaps because it paled in comparison to my delight in the wine, (the waiter) and the dessert. Even before I took my first bite of white chocolate bread pudding, I knew it would be an orgasmic experience because a) Le Petit has an in-house pastry chef, Kristen Lawson, and b) the edible flower design on the supersized plate looked just as appetizing as the tiny treat. Fear not, my lactose intolerant friends (I, too, am a lactard), just because you can’t have crème anything doesn’t mean you can’t have dessert! Indulge your senses in the sorbet trio…Flavors are seasonal, and on this visit we found ourselves stumped in trying to guess the other two once we got past the lemon. Our waiter (who was looking better with each sip of wine) clued us in to the flavors which eluded our taste buds: pear and blood orange. If that doesn’t sound appealing, rumor has it pomegranate and cumquat have been known to frequent this trio!

Despite my indifference towards the entreé, Le Petit is definitely worth a second visit. My multiple queries may have been a sign that I was unacquainted with the cuisine but in my next visit, I plan to the only pretentious part of this place. After requesting a table with my adorable waiter, in my best French tongue, I’ll order the paté and escargot, skip the entrée, polish off a bottle of Chateau Duplessy, and for dessert, I will have only one question for the waiter: “Excusez-moi, voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”