My Affair with Raoul

Favorite is not a term I use lightly or often. In fact, there are very few things in life about which I've thought enough to determine a favorite; that is, with the exception of food. Several days ago, a friend asked me to name my favorite restaurant in Manhattan. Without hesitation, I mentioned Raoul's. This is one of those answers that I've had prepared for several years, and I've never changed my opinion even after countless excursions to Michelin-starred tables and chichi hole-in-the-wall joints.

As if you hadn't read enough about French fare on La Flavoriser, I'm writing again to tell you of a culinary treasure that brings my mind, heart, and stomach back to Paris each time I visit. Raoul's is an adorable French bistro (surprise!) that's been around for decades and has aged impressively well. The walls of the restaurant are covered with a smattering of portraits of nude women and other muted photography, the order of which have no rhyme or reason whatsoever. The tables are candle-lit, which provides most of the illumination for the main dining room. Patrons sit elbow-to-elbow with their neighbors, a setup that practically screams Paris. Some will say that these characteristics are off-putting; I say they're the main draw, not to mention there's a certain air of romance about the restaurant that is loathed only by cynics. To my future husband, if you're reading this: if you don't propose in Paris, Raoul's will be just fine.

I've dined at Raoul's on many occasions, but this time was for an early birthday celebration with my father's side of the family. The maître d' led us through the kitchen (one of the best parts of the evening, in my opinion) into the back of the restaurant to the sky-lit dining room, in the back of which there is a lovely garden with just two tables. We opted to sit inside, though, as a result of the unbearable heat and relentless mosquitoes. Still, it was incredibly charming. We were able to see out the window to the garden, and my family commented all-too quickly on the ceramic fountain of a little boy with water spewing out of his...you get the idea. It seemed that a few of the Lightmans were missing some manners merited by a place with such grace, but I let it slide.

Soon the waitress arrived with a chalkboard menu (écrit en français, bien sûr), and we were handed English translations upon request of my Father. Ordering at Raoul's is never a difficult task for me. At this point, only the appetizer was up for debate. I decided upon the seared bigeye tuna with avocado purée, mango, and yuzu dressing. I'm still not exactly sure what yuzu dressing is, but I don't question what tastes good, I just smile and chew.

Seared Bigeye Tuna

I love avocado and mango with my sushi, so I figured my appetizer would be some sort of variation of that. It was not at all sushi-like, but it was just the nectarous taste I'd been searching for. Next came the no-brainer, steak au poivre. This is Raoul's' signature dish, and each time I dine here, I manage to eat it in some capacity, whether alone or shared. I ordered my steak medium rare, or, as some of you may recall from earlier posts, à point.

Steak au Poivre

The steak came with a side of spinach and the most unbelievable frites I've ever tasted. Just look at them. This is one of those dishes that leaves you speechless.

For dessert, I ordered the crème brulée, which was framed by pure hardened candy, like the kind that solidifies on the dessert itself. I didn't want to break the shell, and I suppose I could have just lifted it, but after gazing starry-eyed at the dessert for several minutes, I needed a taste of the outside.

Crème Brulée

 The shell was a sweet preview of what was to come. After the rest of my family had resisted ordering dessert for fear they wouldn't have room for Pinkberry (comme çi, comme ça, in my opinion), everyone caved and shared my crème brulée. I was both pleased and saddened by this, as it meant I could share the taste with them, but also that I had to. Less for me, unfortunately.

I am never disappointed by my favorite restaurant. The only hiccup of the evening occurred when my steak came undercooked -- two times. I'm not the type to send things back to the kitchen unless I sense a risk of e. coli, so this was definitely something that could have been remedied from the start. Still, my waitress was apologetic, which, considering her French descent, was impressive, and fixed the entrée at my request.

Raoul's is about as close as it gets to Paris in New York City. The owners are French, as well as the majority of the wait staff. Forget Pastis and Balthazar -- this is the real deal, where the quality of food trumps the trendiness, and not the other way around. The restaurant is a staple in my Manhattan diet, so I'll need to make sure I move into my apartment next summer at least a few weeks early (before I begin a life of takeout and delivery) in order to get my fix. If you're going on a date and need a special venue, choose Raoul's. Or, even if you're stag and looking for a place full of flavor and character, it won't take you long before you're in love with Raoul himself (sexuality disregarded). Until next time, happy birthday to me...

Dine at Raoul's:
180 Prince Street
New York, NY 10012
(212) 966 - 3518