Earlier today I got asked for a fancy restaurant recommendation. I responded that I’ve got a blind spot for fine dining in my world view. It doesn’t come to mind. I don’t really think of it as an option, and despite a few really impressive hoity toity meals in my past, I don’t really appreciate it enough to warrant the trouble the restaurants go to or the amount of money that I end up paying. That’s a disclaimer. Cuz, what do you think was on our agenda for the evening’s rare date night? Another episode of Jason feeling out of step with the pretentious parade that is the bourgie restaurant experience.
The plan had been to go to Six Burner ever since Karen had the pork belly at Broad Appetit. I tasted it and I agreed with her that Six Burner was robbed of whatever awards were given out (cuz they didn’t offer it as a slider. doh!) Actually, the plan has been to go to Six Burner ever since their chef left and the Foie Gras knuckle tatted Phillip Denny took over. In my view, he had two strikes against him, one for each hand. But, maybe his cooking would win me over (to his fanclub, not to foie gras eating – and please don’t turn my comment section into a battleground over that issue).
As the first Six Burner customers at their 5:30 opening, we’d hoped for happy hour specials. Nope. Those run through Wednesday. There was a prix fixe, but Karen wasn’t taken with the desert options (panna cotta or tapioca – two textures she doesn’t really do). Looking over the entrees, we couldn’t decide. Nothing jumped out at us. We ordered the most exciting thing we saw for an appetizer to bide us some more time: Squash blossom jalapeno poppers for $10.
I’d always wanted to try squash blossoms, and I’m generally a sucker for anything spicy and cheesy. So, this would be perfect, I imagined a pile of orange flowers, bulging beneath their breading. Nope. What came out peeled our eyelids back. On a big white plate were kris-krossed two long shlong-shaped golden phalluses. Karen called dibs on the little one. Little one? Which one is little? Maybe you should have both. Have you ever had two at once? Har har. I cut into the end of the big one and white stuff oozed onto the plate. Okay, this is getting weird.
Moving past the innuendo now, we realized that our orange squash blossoms were attached to the end of slightly tender skinny green squashes. Very pretty with the colors muted by a light yellow crust. The filling was rich goat cheese spiked with bits of fresh jalapeno. From the bulging head, we worked our way down the shaft. Wait! No more of that. The squash was tender crisp and the breading was delicate and delicious. That’s it. Awkward. Not actually a steamy romance, but we were impressed with the spectacle, the flavor, and the technique. And then we left.
Choose your own adventure… (by the end of this, you’ll wish that we could come back to this point and choose to stay at Six Burner)
We decided to do something we’d never done before. We asked for the check and went to another restaurant. The entrees just didn’t excite us and there were no small plates to make a meal of besides the appetizers. Before leaving we agreed that we needed to check out Bouchon. The buzz about that place came and went before we could get in on their date night prix fixe that included a bottle of wine. Fortunately, Bouchon’s menu is enticing enough to warrant looking beyond the special deals.
Bouchon was virtually empty and it stayed that way for the two hours we were there. As soon as we sat down, I started stepping on the toes of the fanciness that is your dance partner at this kind of establishment. A list of water options were read to me and I got confused. Um. I don’t want bubbles. Still water for me. Wait, what were the other options? It’s crude to request tap water, right? Too late. She left and came back with a glass bottle of Evian. Shit. Faux pas number one. Should have asked for tap. Oh well, it’s date night. Anything goes. Live a little right?
There was a Thursday night special for ladies: half price glasses of wine and desserts. How much can I drink or eat from her discounted orders before they bust us? Karen and I split a glass of Muscadet (discounted at $4), picked out an $8 salad, a $4 side of ratatouille, and an red snapper special involving crab that was read to us without a price being mentioned (it always seems like I’m committing a party foul when I ask the price of the specials, so I didn’t).
Since we enjoy the $6.50 cheese plate at Garnett’s so much, we figured Bouchon’s $17 cheese plate would kick some serious ass. It came out on a big piece of black slate, looking every bit like what you would imagine a $17 cheese plate would, adorned with dried figs and cranberries (can I just call them Craisins?). There was an aged cheddar, a blue, Camembert, a Spanish Idiazabelle (sp?) and I think that’s it. After a bit, we stopped nibbling. None of the cheeses really grabbed us and we didn’t want to get full on food we didn’t love. So we had them box it up for a future midnight snack.
Our tomato and watermelon salad came out and it was pretty, the main ingredients nestled in a little cradle of bib lettuce. The basil and vinaigrette was a fun flavor along side the watermelon. The most remarkable thing were these cracked Szechuan peppercorns sprinkeled throughout. They tasted like anise when you bit into them, but they weren’t edible. Watching Chopped and Top Chef made me crave the opportunity to be a dick-head judge and ask someone why they would put something inedible on the plate, but that’s just a twisted TV fantasy. So, I spent a lot of energy trying not to make a scene as I retrieved each one from my mouth and arranged them on the plate for someone in the back to notice, hopefully.
Our snapper entree came out and it looked kinda petite. To be expected for a fancy French restaurant. Half-priced dessert was in our future, so we dug in with gusto. The fish’s exterior had a tough leathery quality that puzzled us. Not the flakiness you would expect from red snapper. We assumed it was deep fried. Once into the fillet, we realized it was barely warm, not hot like the plate it came on. All around the fish was a mix of bearnaise sauce, diced prima vera veggies and lump crab meat. The crab tasted good, but it seemed kinda dry, even in the fatty yellow sauce.
The owner came over, sensing our lack of enthusiasm for the dish. She pressed us for details about why we didn’t like it, but had an explanation for everything we tried to convey. She offered to replace it with something else even though we were half-way through and still eating (you do that reflexively, good or bad, when something has bearnaise sauce on it). By this point, we had been there long enough that we just wanted to get on with the meal, not take another stab at the menu and wait a good while longer. And really, neither of us feels good about a date if we have to send something back for tasting more like Bennigans than what we’d expected from a French bistro. So we just soldiered on, letting the owner conclude that we just didn’t understand the dish.
I should point out here that I insisted on a side of ratatouille because I love that mouse-centered animated movie (surprise!) and I figured Bouchon would have the best chance of delivering indescribable flavors that would take us back to our childhoods. And, you know what? The stuff was hella good. It was one of those eating experiences where you think maybe there’s pork fat (or duck confit, in this case) incorporated into the dish, but you just don’t want them to tell you about it. Yeah, I call myself a don’t ask, don’t tell vegetarian. If I don’t ask about the lard/chixstock/etc, don’t tell me.
I told the owner that next time I’ll be ordering one of each of their eight side dishes, and she agreed that it’s fun and people do it all the time. But, this is when I caught myself being phony. We weren’t coming back here. For the most part, we had not loved the food and I wasn’t excited to see the bill. I hate that feeling. Does it put you in the mood? Me neither, but I’m a cheapskate. Faking a good time probably leads to faked orgasms, and why can’t I get off… this sex topic?
At any rate, I think we diners have a habit of turning on the polite niceties when we know a meal has disappointed. It’s not the server’s fault. It might be the owner’s fault, but date night isn’t about holding interventions with restaurant owners. This kind of restaurant exists to make a certain kind of people feel a certain way. It didn’t work for us. There was a chocolate dessert that we enjoyed, kind of a dense mousse with berries. Couldn’t tell you what it was called, cuz they don’t print the dessert choices. I think it might have been $13 before ladies night discount (again, I didn’t ask for prices and they don’t offer them – cuz, if you have to ask…). The rest of the dessert list was full of French words that our server labored over. I asked for a definition of one or two, but didn’t want to give her a hard time. Clearly I’m supposed to know what all that stuff meant since she just ran through it. They also threw in a sliver of cherry pie/custardy thing as a consolation prize, since Karen had ordered dessert all to herself. Points for that.
Our server mentioned at some point that she’s sorry we didn’t like our entree. We gave her more feedback about it being tough and luke warm and tasting really heavy when topped with bernaise. She nodded absently as Karen tried to chime in with something nice about “we just ordered wrong.” Throughout, there was a stilted atmosphere in Bouchon (except for a couple getting drunk at the bar in the back) with servers seeming kinda cold and reluctant to engage when pressed, except when they were whispering with one another.
The check came and I saw the $80 total as Karen whisked the bill away (there’s more room on her credit card than mine, due to my ongoing car repairs). The number didn’t jive in my mind with the experience, except that it took a long time and stuff seemed to be overpriced. Peeking one more time I caught the price of the snapper entree: $29. No wonder they don’t volunteer that info. When fish is served with seafood on top, you gotta assume it’s gonna be extra, but this plate of food wasn’t good. $14 at Red Lobster, maybe.
A heaping plate of rainbow trout ($21) went to a neighboring table, and the owner agreed when I said that I should have ordered that. “Well, I’ll just have to come back and work my way through the menu.” Right. More pretending our lifestyle is something it’s not. Who the hell can maintain the charade of throwing money at experiences like these? The snob costume isn’t something I’m comfortable in, feeling like I’m in that company gives me the heebeegeebees. I’ll be back to “working through” some pizza joints from now on. If I come back I’ll be driving a bus, acting out a destructive scene from a Terminator movie. That’s about how enthusiastic I was feeling. Karen agreed. Taco Bell. That’s all we’ll be able to afford if we keep trying to fit in at fancy restaurants.
Once in the car, we realized that we’d left our box of cheese remnants in the restaurant. We didn’t think once of going back for it. Fuck it. You just bleed money on nights like these. Let it go. We thought about recounting the usually miserable experiences we’ve had when we’ve attempted fine dining, but decided not to go down that road. We went home a tad crestfallen.
A melancholy musical refrain comes to mind as I write this and arrive at an anticlimactic conclusion (press play below).
I don’t belong here.
I don’t belong here.
Cuz I’m a CREEP.
Wow. I have not been to Bouchon, yet. If I go, I will try to choose wisely. If you are looking for a cheese plate, I recommend Secco. You can pick your own cheeses. We always avoid the blue cheese variety since it makes my hubby sick and we generally never order a cheese plate unless we can get a customized selection.
If you ever want “fine dining” and you haven’t checked them out – go to Acacia. But I recommend sitting at the bar. I love to watch the bartenders work and they have a good selection of apps and small plates that can be shared.
Six Burner should be better than it is. It’s inconsistent and even what is good isn’t memorable.
We have not been to Bouchon and have heard mixed reviews. For fine dining in Richmond, Sensi is our go-to place. I like Acacia, but service is incredibly inconsistent to the point where it takes away from the meal. Last time we were there they had run out of menus. How does that happen?
I’m sure I have more to add, but let me clarify that Thursday, ladies night at Bouchon: 1/2 glasses of wine, a sampling of side dishes, and finishing with a 1/2 price dessert. That’s a good night on the town for a group of grrrls. I’m not against fine dining establishments. You can have an awesome experience if you’re strategic: take what you want and leave the rest. That’s what we did at Six Burner (though we really wanna go back for more deep fried dildos) and that’s what we should have done at Bouchon. It’s just so hard to figure out how to order (with budget in mind) from one place to the next. Small plates? Prix fixe? Happy hour specials? Or, do these bottom rung offerings miss out on the kitchen’s capabilities? Maybe it is best to just avoid the whole elite eating genre and get down with some honest grub at a more affordable restaurant. I dunno. This where I’m at after last night.
Too many experiences like this are why our list of go-to restaurants has narrowed to Rustica and not many others.
Jason
Is fine dining based on price or food preparation for you. I’m curious to hear other examples for you of fine dining establishments. I’m not a chef, but I can cook what I like well enough.
I rarely eat out, mostly because I can’t bear to look at wine list prices and I don’t normally do cocktails with dinner (don’t get me started with beer). However, I’m most displeased by getting a simple meat preparation that isn’t well executed – which is what I often look for when I’m dining out. So, for me, there’s a double edged sword, I like simple preparations but my kind of food is always higher priced (then say pasta, etc). Certainly there’s enough places to get $25 cuts, but I wouldn’t call them all fine dining. For the record, when I eat out it’s often at Rustica & Edo’s.
I’m no foodie. I don’t have a wealth of fine dining experience, but I do know how to taste. I get that Bouchon was a bad experience and SixBurner was uninspired- are they both fine dining? I would like to hear something methodical about an approach to locate fine dining?
Perhaps a little piece about qualifying places for “entree action” by sampling their sides or appetizers, kind of like the way the squash blossoms unfolded (sans innuendo). If it’s fine dining, shouldn’t that be present from start to finish? I would be curious to try something similar if you had any success, while keeping my wallet intact.
With a single income and two kids in this family, fancy dining is just not in the cards for us. I used to feel we were missing something, but I have come to find that that’s just not true. It’s just not our style, even if we won the lottery. I’m glad to hear there are others like us who appreciate good food without all the snootiness and dollar signs. Who can enjoy a meal when they feel they’re being robbed? Some of the best food we ever have is made right here at home, but I second what the previous poster said about Edo Squid. I love it there – the squid and beans appetizer is truly wonderful!
Can’t say anything anointed as “fine dining” has ever really appealed to me. The closest I think I’ve gotten has been to go to Morimoto’s in Philly–but even then we went for lunch and only b/c of the Iron Chef connection. When we’ve traveled, such as to San Fransisco, we’ll splurge a little in order to get good/creative veggie food, but even then we typically end up going for lunches (b/c they tend to be somewhat simpler and cheaper).
I guess I’m not much for the pomp and circumstance, and I’m sure that those fond of fine dining would argue my tastes are not sophisticated enough to appreciate some of the finer details. But if that’s the case, then so be it. And if I don’t like the meal I’m not out $50 per person.
I’m somewhat jaded by 27 years in NYC before hitting the banks of the James – with the first several of those 27 years spent in kitchens, on waitstaff, behind the bars at several mid-to-up-scale joints before finding a “real” show-biz job (TV news slave). As a lifelong culinary explorer, I think that if you’re not a real food adventurer you can wind up disappointed or horrified by some of what you find on your plate. Who can forget the Bourdain-meets-Namibian-warthog episode of No Reservations? And he’s a pro!
But I digress. I think Six Burner can put out some great plates, but they frequently get too ambitious for their audience. I grew up in SoCa near the border, so squash blossoms as unfortunate phallic action figures were something I experienced before puberty. Six Burner does NOT rise to my definition of fine dining, which is where my jaded-ness comes into play.
The best restaurants in Richmond – in my experience at least – don’t rise to that level. Lemaire comes close. So does Hondo’s. Sensi has some great dishes. There are plenty of great meals to be had in this town. Yet Richmond isn’t, at its core, a fine-dining town.
The review implies it is snobbish of Bouchon to offer a variety of bottled waters– why? Offering still and sparkling bottled waters is a common practice at plenty of casual American restaurants, and is the norm at casual joints in France, where Bouchon’s owner/chef is from. If you want tap, ask for tap. Simply because a restaurant offers other options doesn’t mean they’re laughing at you for not choosing one of those.
While I don’t disagree with everything in this review, I’m a bit rankled by its tone. To title the post “rich people food,” and to suggest that these establishments prepare dishonest grub conveys an almost bitter defensiveness that makes me distrust the review. I can’t help but wonder what hang-ups were brought with the writer to these experiences.
This post was funny and sad at the same time. I can see why the comments are coming in strong. I think Richmond has a strong and improving culinary scene, perhaps what it lacks is consistency both from patrons and the restaurants themselves. As much as Richmond wants to be NYC it’s not, there isn’t a thriving night traffic or as diverse a clientelle to generate more adventurous eating. I’ve read and heard first hand great and mediocre reviews for both those restaurants, so the truth lays somewhere in the middle. As patrons who want more variety, better restaurants, more exciting food, the answer isn’t to quit eating out but to eat out more, and give feedback as to what is and what isn’t acceptable.
Pardon my mistake: the post is tagged, not titled, “rich people food.”
Great idea, Eugenio!
Funny that you’re writing about this. I just started a food blog myself and one of the first entries is about the idea of fine dining and how Richmond stacks up with other cities.
The only relative guarantee you have with fine dining is that, in most any instance, the quality of ingredients will be superior to ‘normal’ restaurants, and that it will be comparatively expensive. Everything else- service, menu selection, preparation/creativity, ambiance, the entirety of the experience- can all vary widely. When most or (rarely) all of those things come together, it will not only be a memorable meal but it will leave a lasting impression. That is hard for your average restaurant to do, even when you have the same things come together. Perhaps that is because most people *really* want to like the experience when they spend that kind of money, so when it lives up to it or even surpasses it, that is going to create a higher high than an average restaurant can achieve, generally speaking.
Many, but certainly not all, of my favorite restaurants in town and elsewhere fall into the fine dining category. It is honest and correct to say that those experiences are not always amazing and I could never fault anyone for sticking with reasonably priced, consistent places- they resonate for me as well.
In my opinion though, Six Burner is not what I would call fine dining, probably not even close, regardless of what they charge. Bouchon would fall into that category for me.
There’s too much to respond to in one sitting and I’m short on time. A few important items:
-Like almost any reference I make to a restaurant experience, I don’t promote this blog entry as a “review” of either Bouchon or Six Burner. It’s a story, and it’s about ME and how I view the valuable experience of dining out. The story has ups and downs. It doesn’t attempt to boil an establishment down to quantifiable designations like starts or letter grades (although sometimes I do sometimes like to urge people EAT HERE, or DON’T EAT THERE). It’s not a rave about either place, as much because of the kind of diner I am as the kind of restaurant either place is and who they’re trying to serve. If it’s not clear, we had fun at Six Burner and regretted not continuing our meal there.
-I’m really enjoying the discussion about what qualifies as “fine dining.” Defining the term wasn’t the goal of this post, but I relied on it heavily. I don’t think of Six Burner as a fine dining experience, but the food is fancy and it’s priced about the same as Bouchon. We left there and ate somewhere that might fit that label and we wished we had, either ordered differently, or had stayed at Six Burner (hence the title, Fine Dining Gives me the Creeps). What I hoped to convey with the term “fine dining” is the elevated experience that you expect to pay for, that raises your expectations as a consumer, and has so often been really disappointing and alienating for me. In fact, I very nearly feel justified saying MUTHA FUCK A BUNCHA FINE DINING. But that’s being hotheaded and discounting restaurants I still want to try and love (Lemaire, Sensi, etc). I don’t expect that sentiment to resonate with everyone. And I admitted that I feel like a creep for the frequency of my disgruntledness and/or my seemingly habitual naysaying. But, we just can’t afford to roll the dice on these places in Richmond when the dice come up snake-eyes so often.
-Kate: My bit about the blog not being a “review” was partially a response to you. “Rich People Food” is a tag that contains raves and rebukes from my past experiences, including a vegan cookbook. The fact is, expensive restaurants ARE just for people who can afford them. The name of the tag may imply that I’m biased against the fine dining genre, but everybody’s got their own perspective. Mine has come about through trial and too many errors, also economic realities.
As a couple of the others have pointed out, Richmond lacks “fine dining” choices. To my mind, “fine dining” implies the trappings of a La Grenouille or La Cote Basque in New York or Aqua in San Francisco — the sorts of places you expect to wear a coat and tie, find immaculate table cloths, and dine without regard to the eventual bill. “Fine dining” also means that not a single thing should be amiss or out of place in the meal, and that takes far more work and experience than restaurants in RVA can offer. Of late, One North was probably the closest thing we had to a true “fine dining” restaurant in this town, and Frits had to give in to economic reality. Lemaire is close, but you could still get away with jeans in that room. Head out of town and you might find the right experience at Palladio or The Inn at Little Washington, but in RVA, we just don’t have many (or any?) joints that step to that level of quality or service.
This isn’t to say we don’t have some good restaurants and chefs. Unfortunately, the kind of service and food Jason experienced at Bouchon are the norm in the city’s supposedly-good restaurants. Too many places are over-priced for the kind and quality of food and experience offered, while too few restaurants can consistently keep their game at the level of truly good dining.
In the end, I have to echo some of the other commenters. We’re always excited to find a restaurant that is consistently great — and doesn’t break the budget — but more often I end up feeling like I could have done a better job at home.
And until another option appears, when we want “fine dining” — with or without the kid — we’ll find it elsewhere.
After reading this review I feel I need to come to Bouchon’s defense, not that they need it, their establishment, the quality of their food and service speak volumes. Bouchon is my favorite restaurant in Richmond to eat. I am so glad that places like this exist down here. The menu is exciting and takes a lot of chances from time to time offering plenty of adventurous eating. They had game bird night last season, where else can you get grouse or squab in this city? Other nights I had veal kidneys and sweet breads and lamb tenderloin. Who else has Cornas and Condrieu on their wine list? Ever sit at the bar and order off the bar menu? Everything is 6 bucks, you can get steak for 14 bucks. The Charcuterie is house made, ever try the pork roulettes? I seem to recall cured duck neck or something at one point. As delicious as it that sounds! You can’t leave either without getting a side of truffle mac and cheese, not really mac and cheese but baked noodles with a gruyere béchamel sauce. The service is top notch, not intrusive or hovering, not pretentious and not superficially friendly. The owners are around everynight and gracious and accommodating. Nice lighting and nice stemware.
Unfortunately a great deal of people read this blog so it is worth responding to a sour grapes review. It is almost like the reviewer went into Six Burner and Bouchon with their minds already made up about what the experience was going to be. If Taco Bell sets the standard for good eating then of course they want to hate their date night out. This reviewer is not the right kind of customer for these places. Even if the reviewer did not like the snapper the owner offered to exchange it and even gave them free dessert. This is the right way to run a business. These are casual and friendly places that have professional service and exquisite kitchens.
Josh: It’s not a review. The story take place in a bigger context than any one person’s favorite restaurant. And, it’s not completely negative toward Bouchon. That said, I understand your defensiveness. I’m sure you’re right about everything you added concerning Bouchon, especially the part about my being “not the right kind of customer for these places.” You hit the nail on the head there. Keep the riff raff out.
Paul: I feel like we’re talking about two different things when we say “fine dining” (although yours might actually be the angle people are looking for when they read this story). I don’t actually want rarefied service. It’s off putting to me and I don’t wanna pay extra for my food because the restaurateur wants to take me back to the Victorian Age. Really technical execution in cooking and precise development of flavors is exciting to me and I’d be happy to pay extra to learn from that eating experience. If an artificial environment and the pretense of elite eating seem to be emphasized at the expense of the food, that’s typically when I call bullshit.
Fine dining….hmmm….”How was your dining?” “Fine.”
Whether or not you name this piece of writing a review, it does function in the world and for most of your readers as one. So much for author intention, frustrating as that is.
WRT Josh’s comment about the writer not being the right kind of customer for Bouchon-like restaurants, I didn’t take that to mean he was calling the writer “riff raff.” Rather, given how much that commenter mentions adventurous eating, I read that as saying maybe the writer went into the experience ready to judge it and already feeling alienated, and therefore, closed to what it might have offered him.
I hope the writer will continue to try new restaurants, and in a more open spirit. It’s tough to have a good time somewhere if you feel uncomfortable even before getting there. Drink what you want to drink, ask the prices of the specials, pick your teeth with your salad fork. Whatever lets you enjoy the food.
Plutocrat food is better.
think of fine dining as food prepared with a smaller audience in mind than what you eat on a more regular basis–a relative comparison not an ultimate one. This will make the meals that friends cook for your family unit qualify as fine dining. You don’t need to have a cherry gastrique squirt bottle or expensive fungi shavings to make an engaging small plate and you certainly don’t need a restaurant for fine dining.
I can’t handle the semantic quibbling. All future comments containing the phrase “fine dining” will not be published (rare editorial request). That horse has been beaten dead (and it’s kinda taken off down a rabbit hole). Consider it a challenge to contribute your perspective with two fewer words in your vocabulary. Otherwise, please proceed. (hope this doesn’t kill the discussion)
Bouchon… where did they go wrong. Oh yes, I know, when they served dinner.
I’ll say this up front: I have had a few GREAT lunches there. Seriously, I love the place for lunch, and I would whore myself out to the popped collar clientèle down the street for a bowl of the truffled mac & cheese. And their coffee is very good–surprisingly good.
I’m not like you Jason, I love fine dining. I love the art of it, because there is an art. I’ve been around it all my life. It’s kind of like formal church: If it’s what you grew up with, you fall in love with the ceremony of it all. Indeed, I had high hopes for Bouchon, and even thought, “That silly Jason, he just had a bad night.” Now I find myself having had a very similar bad night.
Birthdays are a special treat in my family. With only the three of us, it means that three times a year, at the very least, we can each pick out whatever restaurant we want–from far away sub shops to 5 star, 5 diamond experiences. We are not amateurs to this game. So this year Mom chose Bouchon, upon me and my father’s lunchtime recommendations. I will readily admit there were some bright spots–a petite cheese ravioli, lovely Chanterelle mushroom soup, offering Grey Goose as the house vodka. And then we saw a sharp decline, starting with the beverages. The juice they used is canned, creating a distinct metallic flavoring, ruining the sweetness and ringing clarity of flavor one finds with Grey Goose. I found myself grimacing with each sip and longing for the cranberry vodka I had just downed across the street at Sam Miller’s–who did NOT use Grey Goose, but whose drink was notably superior in flavor.
Next issue is related to the drink, but more so to the waitress. When I have a drink on the table, and there is some amount of liquid in it, you don’t touch it. Ever. You offer to get me another. You apologize as you have to perhaps slide it over to make room for other things. But you do not touch it, and you certainly don’t walk away with it, a third of the way full, without asking if I’m done with it. Let’s ignore the fact that an alcoholic beverage can cost a bit more than a soda. It’s just polite. Leave it on the table until such a time that I tell you I’m through with it, or until I leave. Period.
The waitress that helped us this evening seemed uninformed, disinterested, apathetic, and unapologetic–particularly when we came to our next issue.
Clearly the chef has some issue in the kitchen with getting food out at the same time. Timing is a learned skill, and he or she still have some learning to do. I had the veal (shut it, baby cow lovers, this is not the place for the debate,) as did my grandfather. The remaining members of our party (a total of 5 of us,) had fish of one sort or another. Both veals were cold–not just room temperature, but rather the sauce had begun to have a film over it. Even the potato gratin, with its several layers, was lukewarm until one got through the first few. The plate was cool to the touch. When it was pointed out, the waitress turned to my grandfather and asked if his was cold as well. He said it was, but that he’d rather just continue to eat. She tried to convince him otherwise, but he said it was already in front of him, he had already begun the meal, and he was going to continue.
The meal reappeared a few minutes later. The plate was indeed hot to the touch, but the food had graduated up to warm. Again, not hot. The flavor was delicious, and the texture divine. If you can manage to get a plate of the veal hot, I recommend it.
Complaints abound at the table about the excessive use of salt. The restaurant was compared to local sodium offenders Mamma Zu and Edo’s Squid, although I personally didn’t mind the saltiness. My grandmother however was not pleased with her meal as a result.
Desserts were lacking imagination, and once sampled, were ordinary at best. I was impressed with the dried orange peel–it wasn’t candied, but dehydrated. I love subtle, clever use of food technology. I had the creme brulee. If you’re looking for a good creme brulee, please head up to Cafe Rustica. It’s cheaper and far tastier. On certain nights it’s also far more original, as they a DELIGHTFUL lavender creme brulee that is lick-the-bowl worthy. The technique of Bouchon’s was very much off. The bowl was too shallow, creating a too-thin custard that was slightly watery on top. The sugar was too thinly layered on, and was also uneven–some parts of the crust were caramel-y and crunchy, other parts were burned tasting and hard enough that pieces had to be discarded. The coloring varied from pale caramel to dark, dark brown (a few spots nearing char.)
Bouchon is a lovely place to go for lunch–Jason, please go back for lunch. I’ll join you! It’s less expensive, and the day time staff seem to have an ounce of sense and a pound of personality. As for the rest of you, give it a try if you’ve got the money to piss away, otherwise, might I recommend that you place Bouchon at the bottom of your list for “special occasions.”
if you x out food with French and tattooed chef influences, you won’t have much left to eat. The poverty of imagination and earnest copy-catting on display in RVA is understandable but that’s what the consumers want and there’s little sense in complaining about it. It’s infecting the ethnics too. Think of the last ‘ethnic’ place that opened up with the mission to provide an upscale experience–they did so simply by hiking prices and not really doing anything different from the sister chain restaurants.
I’m gonna let Jess’ comment that included the “fd” phrase slide because it’s an enlightening story. I’ll have you all know that Jess was the first person to mention to me that they’d read this post and the very next day she winds up at dinner at Bouchon. So, if she read my blog as a review then she disregarded it, which is what critical thinkers do after they take in information: they decide for themselves. It’s too bad lightening struck twice in our cases: cold food and apathetic service. For me, the Bouchon meal was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I don’t need to try every new place that sounds interesting and I don’t have to go somewhere that’s out of our price range when we want a special meal (insert Stuart Smalley’s matra here). Too many times rolling the dice with the remainder of my paycheck and feeling ripped off by the end of it. No mas.
Fine dining has lost its appeal to me. Instead of booking at Daniel NY, we decided to go Yakitori Toto. I prefer less uptight places like momofuku where I have no problem eating with my hands (pork belly buns). I had an excellent pork belly appetizer at Six Burner earlier this year but the rest of our meal was ho-hum. The first time we went to Bouchon, the experience was promising. Second-time we went, not so. That’s why I stopped writing about my dining-out in RVA, how can you be inspired to write about something so uninspiring? And writing all negative stuff about food makes me depressed.
And I agree with a lot of folks here, Bouchon and Six Burner are not fine dining. But I do think their prices are for the general Richmond clientele. Sensi is closer to fine dining.
I was at Six Burner on Wednesday. I, too, didn’t see much on the menu that I wanted to eat. I had the crab and melon soup, which was lovely, but the arugula salad was bland; I don’t even think it had a dressing, just a tiny bit of goat cheese and some almonds. My friend ordered the crab cakes and grits, which at $28 was way overpriced; the grits weren’t even hot. The crab cakes were fine, but we expected to be wowed for $28.
Jason,
I think that y’all should give Bouchon one more try, perhaps in the fall when Francis and Windy return from holiday. Bouchon is one of my RVa favorites and I think you and they had a bad night. I have never had anything but great service from the ladies (the tall guy is another story, and I wanted to smack him) and on two rare and separate occasions, when there was bacon in a presumably veg soup and hubs just did not like his fish, the dishes and dessert were comped with apologies. That’s all that one can expect in such a situation. If you think that the food was overpriced, not well executed or the vibe is not for you, I get it. It does sound like you went in not wanting to like Bouchon, but it is the onus of the staff and chef to change your mind. I don’t really discriminate between “rich people food” or “fine dining” and the alternative, which I guess is “not fine dining?” I don’t even know what to call it. I expect good food and good service if we are at a chef’s table or a hole-in-the-wall. Throw in some ambience and I’m a happy girl. I don’t agree with blanket declarations against a type of restaurant or tagging establishments as “rich people food.” If you have a conceptual problem with paying over a certain amount for food (and I am not making a commentary on what you or I or anyone can afford), then accept that as your reality and please do not condescend or judge others who do not share your mindset. I do enjoy your blog but found this one a bit classist.
I agree with Jenni, the class warfare tone was a bit amped up in this post. Richmond has some good options across the entire cost spectrum, from the Salvadoran place next to the Salvage Barn on Hull to Sensi and Lemaire. There is a cost to serving food with high quality ingredients; I think you might be surprised to find that profit margins are likely lower at Bouchon than La Milpa.
I’m certainly not rich, but I do think a great dining experience is worth paying for and know that sometimes I’ll be disappointed, even after doing my homework and saving up. One of the best dining values I’ve ever had was lunch at Jean-Georges, 39 bucks for amazing food and service. Richmond still has some ground to cover before it can match that value at the high-end of the market, but I’m going to enjoy finding out who comes close.
We enjoy fine dining and we enjoy great casual fare. Each is a different experience with a different purpose.
Friday night we went with our daughter and SIL to Sensi for a celebratory meal. The level of service, the attention to detail, the pacing, the food, etc. made a special occasion much more special.
I recently had a terrible experience at Bouchon. I won’t labor over the details, but we went for the pre fix and ended up with food that was okay at best. Our server was BRAND new, like first night on the job new, but CLEARLY under trained, not being shadowed, and to top it off was one of the more awkward human beings on the planet. He could not answer one of the questions we had and knew nothing about how the pre fix menu operated. Then there was the piece de resistance when one of the other servers came over to refill our waters and spilled red wine all over the table and on my maid of honor’s brand new beautiful white silk shirt (did I mention that this dinner was me and my fiance’ taking his best man and my maid of honor to celebrate?).
To the food: Flavors were great, but the quality of the main ingredients were obviously chosen to keep costs down for the fixed price menu. If the service had matched the look down your nose air of superiority that the place exudes, I might not have anything bad to say about the food. When we got the check, I decided to write a comment card about the awful experience. The owner stopped me mid way, and I was able to explain the distressing night. She offered to pay to clean the shirt (NOT to replace it because it is ruined BTW), and NOTHING was comped on the check. Way to go Bouchon, you get an F.
guard: this was a tough read for me. filtering through the soft core, it seems to ring whiny about price for me with no logic. before you set foot in bouchon, you knew it would lean closer to the expensive side or at the very least lean toward more coin than you would be willing to shell out. with that horse beaten to a slow death, it seems that you were given AMPLE opportunity to find something that would have placated your price worry. you state yourself that you “gave up” on re-visiting the menu. (is it akin to war and peace in length?) where is it fair to speak so negatively about a restaurant that seems to have tried everything to elevate your experience? i am not into tough fish so i get the assault that it may have provided to your taste buds BUT why when seeing the trout sprite-ly passing by your dining area did you not take up the owner on an alternate dish? or why did you hesitate in vocalizing your displeasure in the dish that was served to you?
this is a dissertation in poor decisions displaced as a reprimand toward pricier restaurants. i don’t want to spend 29.00 on fish either BUT you did CHOOSE to go there to eat. it seems to me that 70 percent of your night could have gone differently if you hadn’t hid behind “not wanting to speak up”.
jason’s wife here. i just wanted to chime in to say that i don’t think that this blog post was suppose to be about what defines fine dining – it’s just the story of one night in our lives. we made some bad choices, i keep wondering how things would have been if we had just had our whole meal at six burner – the appetizer was delicious. but bouchon was truly disappointing, and not just because it was expensive, that just adds salt to the wound. the watermelon salad we had was amazing – if the rest of the meal had been that good we would have been very happy. our main course was cold, overcooked and just not tasty and we did speak up but the owner had an excuse for every point we made. it was nice of them to offer another entree but it felt like too little to late.
anyway, i am sure some of our opinions come from where we are in life right now. with a two year old at home, and another one on the way, every night out feels like a little stolen moment. come october our lives will be on hold for a while and i know i feel like it’s time to really enjoy ourselves while we can. i would have gladly paid the price of the check for a night of wonderful food and great service but that’s not what we got. this dining experience just left me feeling guilty for the amount of money i just spent for what I got. sadly, this is how too many of my more expensive richmond dining experiences seem to go. so maybe it’s time to take a break and find exciting food experiences in the little hole in the wall restaurants that get us really excited because the food tastes amazing even if they might not be the most romantic. at least i won’t be full of regret at the end of the evening!
Well put, Karen. I’ve spent years now guarding those dining dollars because it’s hard to be a parent on a moderate income and feel like you got gypped on your one splurge a month. You find a gem and you want to revisit it. You take a friend’s suggestion and it turns out bad, and you’re out half of the month’s entertainment budget.
And honestly, it feels even worse to love food and feel like you’ve been taken for a ride by someone who tells you that your fish is *supposed* to be tough.
My husband and I have had two meals out recently (one at Melitos, the other at Chez Foushee). In both instances, an entree came out that was less than stellar. We spoke up both times, and in each case the restaurant was more than willing to make a substitution. Dinner was saved, we were thrilled with our “new” entrees and the evening was all the better for it. The wait staff at both restaurants were incredibly accommodating and professional about it.
“So we just soldiered on, letting the owner conclude that we just didn’t understand the dish.” Jason, what kind of BS is that?! You clearly understood the dish and continued to eat?! Next time, let them bring you something else and you will be surprised at how your evening can do a 180 and all will be right with the world!
First off, regarding your prostestations that this is only a story and not a review, well you should know that is not true at all. In a town like Richmond with a small and interconnected foodie core, you know very well that many are going to take this as a review of Bouchon and stay away.
Secondly. It was enlightening to read Josh’s brief and spirited defense of Bouchon and compare it with your post. He succinctly put forth the strengths of Bouchon; what makes it special in this town, citing specific dishes and wines that make it worth visiting. Meanwhile, your long post rarely indulges in details to substantiate your criticisms. I still can’t glean what you got for $80 or whether you and your wife bought your own dishes or shared hers.
Finally. I appreciate good cheap food as much as anyone in RVA. I like the banh minh at Asian Bakery, the sandwiches at Chioccas, two dollar burgers at Capital Ale, brunch at Perlys. But, you never seem to acknowledge that a dish well prepared by trained chefs and paired with excellent wine/beer is worth paying for. If you walk into a place with $20+ entrees with a bias, then you should make that evident. Based on your writings, I don’t think you are competent to write about such places given your lack of knowledge about ingredients, dishes, wines, beers, etc. If you want to write about your experience in restaurants where you don’t seem to know how to order the water you want, then you should write with a grain of salt and make your naivete clear.
I have been to Bouchon several times, and it is very easy to order tap water instead of bottled Evian; in fact I have succeeded in doing so each time I went there. You mention that they offer discounts for ladies on Thursdays, but do you mention that virtually no other fine dining restaurants offers such discounts (not to mention their deals throughout the week on moules/frites, steak/frites. date night, etc.)? You then take full advantage of this discount by sharing your wife’s Muscadet and perhaps other dishes. Ok, I know they are offering a special, but don’t you feel a little cheap doing this?
You complain that they didn’t mention the price of the special entree that you ordered…did you think of asking? I think that part of the reason you found your relationship with your server lacking is that you are not comfortable talking back and forth with them. Next, you complain that the cheeses in the cheese plate didn’t grab you in the way that you expected for the price. Was this because of the cheeses, the proportions, or the sides? You can hardly fault them if they just happened to pick cheeses you didn’t like…especially if your only point of reference is the cheese plate at Garnett’s (I like it too but…well, it ain’t ever going to have Idiazabel on it).
Skipping over the inedible cracked peppercorns in the salad…well, wait, has anyone ever found cracked peppercorns inedible? Don’t you just, eh, swallow them? Nevermind. Moving onto the lamentable entree. Wait, did you two share an entree? Really? Come on, learn to live it up…that’s what they make credit cards for. If you were sharing, doesn’t it strike you as probable that you would find the portion petite if TWO PEOPLE WERE EATING IT? You mention that the “exterior” of the fish was tough and lukewarm…are you refering to the skin or the flesh of the fish? Maybe it was supposed to be lukewarm? Again, there is not enough detail to really know what you were served and to judge it according to your description. Then, you offhandedly mention that it must have been deep-fried, but you have nothing to substantiate this. And, you don’t at all comment on the flavor of the dish. Isn’t this important? All in all, it sounds like you don’t have the requisite knowledge to appraise the dish; which becomes more credible when you confess to being a vegetarian.
Then, in the midst of your anguish, the owner comes over and OFFERS TO COMP YOU A NEW ENTREE! Wait a minute…without you complaining, the house senses your displeasure and offers to rectify the problem by giving you free food? Do you know of any other restaurant in RVA with this level of service? If so, tell me and I will go there. They obviously care about their customers and are willing to do all they can do to provide good service. Yet, despite your displeasure (from eating half of that ‘unsatisfying’ entree), you decline to sub a better entree in for the one that displeased you. Ok, at this point, you have no right to complain about anything. The restaurant has done everything it could to change things and you wouldn’t let them. At this point, any negative perceptions of your dining experience lie, in large part, on your own shoulders.
Finally, there is the off-handed dismissal of Bouchon as a place that exists to make a “certain kind of people feel a certain kind of way.” Whoa, besides being insulting to the restaurant, this is insulting to anyone who enjoys the restaurant. It insinuates that anyone that enjoys the cuisine, the wines, the ambience and the caring service only does so because it makes them feel ‘fancy’, or ‘elite’, or ‘better’.
Well, I do enjoy Bouchon. And not because it makes me feel better than anyone, but because it can light up a random night with the joy and grace that follow from sharing a excellent meal with excellent wine along with someone you care about. I only pity you since you are either not capable, competent, or too prejudiced to experience the same grace and joy.
In conclusion. This is an unabashed review of your review. If you like well-prepared food and great French wine and are willing to spend more than $15 on it, then give Bouchon a try and judge for yourself. If you want to save money, check out their website for generous specials on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Just don’t give much credence to what is written in the blog post above.
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I believe that if fine dining must be a regular habit for anyone, its for people with too much money to waste and a likely ego to show off to the rest of us what they can afford. There is not much more to it than that. I can appreciate the design of related restaurants, how much money and time they have spent on creating the correct atmosphere et al together with all the food preparation that may go into certain meals, but im there to simply pay for what I eat, not to pay for a work of art on a plate thats to be ruined in minutes by my own body!
I look at some of the most expensive restaurants in the world that charge hundreds of $$$ for single meals (!), then look at charity adverts on tv aimed at absolutely everyone that show african children drinking dirt water in order to merely survive. The world is a mess
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