When you call to make a reservation at L'Albatros--and you will do so if you know what is good for you--you will hear the hostess pronounce the name to rhyme with "well, hello," and that is just the reaction I have had to Chef Zach Bruell's latest venture. "Well, hello" as in, where have you been and how have I not met you before?
Bruell, of Parallax and Table 45 fame, is right in his food groove with this fantastic new brasserie. While I was not thrilled with the service on either of my visits, my complaint list largely stops there.
You enter L'Albatros through an almost closet-dark foyer that is lit just enough for you to see where the door to the excitement is, and once through the door, you are immediately startled by the kitchen. Startled because it is bright and your pupils are still resizing, but startled too because the kitchen is so open that you could drive a car right into it. The staff is all hustling to prepare food and thus ignoring you, and the hostess is quick to try to draw your attention to her, but I advise you to linger. Note the attention to detail each prep person shows through furrowed brow, the oxtails being browned on a huge griddle top, the pizzas being pulled from the oven and put into to-go boxes, the clean metal lines of the shelves and ovens. Breathe in the smells and get the salivary glands primed up.
Now wander to the hostess and check in and make sure to glance over her left shoulder into the surprisingly white and yet very welcoming space beyond her. The darkness of the old That Place on Bellflower is largely gone, and in its place are two fresh, welcoming dining areas, the one feeling like you are inside of a sheet fluttering on a clothesline and the other like you are inside the big brick house that holds the bed that the sheet is destined for. At first you will think that the chairs seem like outdoor plastic furniture, but once you sit in them and feel their ease and comfort, your concerns will dissipate. Some of the artwork is not quite what I would prefer to look at, but my attention was mostly on the food and the company at my table anyway.
The menu is varied while holding true to its French basis. The price points on the food are pretty exceptional considering the quality of the food, the presentation, the flavor. Bruell has long been known for his ability to cook fish and mazimize flavor with clean visuals to boot as well as anyone in town. I'm not sure how much time he spends in the kitchen at L'Albatros, but his understudies seem to have learned pretty well. On my first visit I enjoyed mussels with pomme frites, spicier than I am used to from other places, but excellent nonetheless and every single shell was opened just about perfectly. Mrs. Epicure got the halibut special on our first visit, and it was said to be cooked a la plancha (on a hot pan, in this case a cast iron griddle). The server explained how because their plancha never gets too hot, the halibut would be even juicier. The only quibble is that one of the lovely aspects of food cooked a la plancha is that it gets a nice carmelization which makes your mouth kick in some extra juiciness of its own, and that browning was mostly missing from this lukewarm plancha preparation. Friend JN got the chicken confit and appeared to enjoy it while friend MN got the skate wing and was thrilled with the dish. Served "off the bone" (if you can call it that), the wing was tender, moist, and had a very nice browning.
On my second visit I opted for the scallops with brussels sprouts and Pernod cream sauce; lights out fantastic. I could eat it for breakfast any day of the week. Mrs. Epicure went with the cod in paper and enjoyed it very much although was not gaga. Friend TN went with the French classic cassoulet, but the presentation was very unclassic--instead it was very modern. Served in a skillet with each of the key components slightly separated, it was highlighted by an exceptional smoked sausage. Friend KW had the biggest flavors in one plate that night with the special oxtail ravioli. Served on an elongated plate in an open ravioli style, the oxtails were superbly braised and surrounded by pearl onions and mushrooms that still had just enough crunch to show they had not been cooked to oblivion.
Somehow on neither occasion did we have the cheese course, which seems criminal considering how amazing it looked and smelled when delivered to a nearby table. We declared a future visit would be devoted to cheese.
Desserts that we tried included the acceptable creme caramel (I like it a bit closer to burned caramel myself, as they do at Momocho) and the truly exceptional chocolate Napoleans, which are worth a visit on their own.
The wine and beer list contains a nice variety of options, although my wine expert friend TN did point out several that were priced a bit beyond what they were worth. (Now if I could just remember what he tells me when he tells me these things.) The servers do a nice job recommending food and wine pairings, even if they are less than humble in doing so.
On both occasions, my own favorite choices were the first courses I selected, each of which involved an former denizen of a sty. The pork rillettes were incredibly good, served in a stylish square glass jar and accompanied by little toasts, cornichons, and caper berries (I had never eaten one of these berries before and really liked them--"well, hello" to caper berries). The second time around I went with the pork and veal terrine, which was studded with pistachios and wrapped in some lovely pork fat. Mercy, me.
L'Albatros is certainly one of the best restaurants to open during my time in Cleveland, as worthy of your time and dining dollars as anywhere else I have written about.
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