Bar Lou is Bar-Lou-Ti-Ful

One of the most pleasant of struggles is deciding on your culinary adventure for the evening when many a menu's options lure you in. That was the case as we settled into our comfy leather booth and its rich marble table the other evening at Bar Lou, now just a year in at the Coast Village Road, Montecito, Craftsman-cottage location formerly home to Oliver's and prior to that Peabody's. (On the slope side of CVR also gives Bar Lou a charming glimpse of sunset, btw.) Fortunately, there were cocktails to help get us in the mood. As with the food menu, the list is neat--you're in for a curated experience, not an evening at a New Jersey diner. The Petite Amer I choose, looking like an old fashioned in the photo above, is sort of that, but via Mexico and a bartender fond of Amari. It's mezcal, Amaro Montenegro, Cynar, and then an orange zest oleo that adds both sugar and bitter, quite like the two Amari, come to think of it. The mezcal smoke and earthiness from the artichoke in the Cynar lift and ground the drink at once. Simple, and simply lovely. The tall glass is a NA option cheekily called L'innocente: the local favorite Tilden Lacewing, mint, lime, tonic. Bright, fresh, a fine way to awaken the taste buds sans booze for the adventure to begin.

Somehow we pass on tempting items such as the evening's special, a pan roasted king salmon with green lentils, horseradish, crème fraîche, and salmon roe caviar. And the crab cakes with Creole remoulade, which means something since chef Brandon Boudet comes from N'awlins. And the fresh catch--Boudet works with local fisherfolk at both Bar Lou and his other fine spot, Little Dom's Seafood--tonight a vermillion rockfish, served alongside ratatouille. Or the oysters, or uni toast, or the surprising, and therefore tempting, French omelet with chive Boursin cheese and herbs, which, if you're feeling flush, you can goose with 8 grams of Osetra caviar.

But we did choose two ways to start, the first of which is above and begins a bit of a trend--Bar Lou wants to make delicious food even if it isn't easily Instagramable. (Wait, what year is this?) The smoked black cod rillettes in the jar might not visually shine, but as a culinary treat it's a supernova. Creamy, fishy, briny, bright--a hint of vinegar instead of citrus for a different take?--and you get to slather it on a crusty baguette Bar Lou gets from their friends down the street, Bree'osh. (If the spelling bugs you it won't as soon as you get some of their brilliant bread in your mouth.)

The rillettes came off Le Bar Menu, which expands options in enticing ways, from snacks like Creole deviled eggs all the way to another dinner option, the Bar Lou Burger with Comté cheese, tomato, and onion jam. But from the main menu's hors d'oeuvres section, we couldn't resist the trumpet call of the king oyster mushrooms. Expertly grilled to a meaty chewiness, they are perfect on their charcoal-kissed own, but with the zhoug on the bottom, they are beyond perfect (shoot, backed myself into a linguistic corner there). Think of it as Middle Eastern chimichurri, a vivid mash of cilantro, parsley, green chilies, olive oil. You will be very happy you have bread from the rillettes to sop some of it up. You will wish for a spoon to get even more.

My dear wife often opts for a salad, and by ordering Chicories, she got one big enough for a party double our size of two. Gorgeously piled under a snowfall of shredded Manchego, the refreshingly bitter leaves were perfectly balanced with dates, pecans, and a sherry vinaigrette. Balance is the mantra at Bar Lou, and this seasonal salad expressed that skill impeccably. 

Speaking of seasonal, with the evening air cooling faster and the sun setting sooner, it's time for a dish like this one, simply called duck leg confit on the menu. But, as you can see, with its saucy Ayocote blanco beans beneath the bird, it's nodding to cassoulet. I do love a good bean, and this one ends up both firm on the outside and creamy on the inside, a perfect complement to the duck, crispy on the outside and moist on the in. Both are kind of rich, so that toss of bitter greens atop again helps the dish find a balance. 

For dessert we returned--with a vengeance--to the land of what doesn't photograph well. And we didn't care a whit. For these apple ricotta fritters are heavenly, crispy with a cinnamon-sugar crust, and then the cheesy-apple inside ready to go gooey on you. For an elegant lift they come with Calvados-laced whipped cream that you can spoon like butter on each bite.

I feel a bit remiss not mentioning the perfectly professional service. Our server Brandon explained when we needed menu assistance, never rushed us, never scooped instantly in the millisecond one of our plates was empty. Yet we never felt abandoned either. It's a tough line to walk, attentive versus helicoptered, but he knew how to pull that off. Even offered a half pour of the sublime French Grenache I had with the duck, knowing I needed a bit more to drink to finish with the dish.

Bar Lou is surely on top of its game one year in.

Little Dom's Gets Its Fat Tuesday On

You've still got time tonight to get down there, so I wanted to post this quick. As you do want get there. Little Dom's Seafood in Carpinteria is throwing a Mardi Gras Feast that started Sunday and runs through tonight, Fat Tuesday itself. Little Dom's menu already nods a lot to New Orleans, as that's where chef Brandon Boudet was raised. (Just consider his last name and you know he's legit.) On any given night you might order up a chilled Creole boiled shrimp or a bowl of seafood gumbo (that's all pescatarian, down to its stock). 

But for these few truly special days, you get a bunch more options, all provided in slightly smaller portions so you can eat widely without becoming too wide yourself. You definitely want to accelerate into the evening with a classic Sazerac, that absinthe rinse tickling your nose first, but then the sweetened rye, Peychaud's bitters, and squeeze of lemon blend and please. It transports you right to the Big Easy (after all, it's the city that holds Tales of the Cocktail every year).

While personally nothing can ever top sucking down BBQ oysters at Hog Island Oysters right alongside the Tomales Bay from which they were harvested, the ones offered by Little Dom's are a close second. Piping hot hitting the table, they carry just enough of the grill's smoky flavor but not so much to dominate. And then they bathe in luxurious liquor: not just butter but perfectly parceled out amounts of lemon juice, garlic, and Parmesan, and then a double hit of slow-growth warmth--paprika and hot sauce. The balance is beguiling, and you will drink every last drop and be sad for any drip that is left on the paper basket they show up at the table inside.

Clockwise in this photo from top left is a mug of chicken and andouille gumbo, a fried oyster mushroom po' boy, and crawfish Monica. (Note, these dishes, plus the oysters, three for both of us, and the two desserts was a perfectly filling dinner, even at smaller portions than the regular menu.) That gumbo was powered by a roux darker than an evil man's soul (I'm not going to name any names, plus then the metaphor gets too unappealing). You spelunk into the depths of its flavor. The chicken thigh meat is tender and pulled into tasty bits and then the andouille offers its spicy porkiness. It took me halfway through to find the little ball of rice hiding in the darkness. The po' boy's vegan, btw, right down to its lively aioli. The crispy, crunchy fry on the mushrooms subs perfectly for any meatiness even the most devoted carnivore might hope for. Even the roll was what you wanted--firm, tasty, willing to be a brilliant supporting, uh, roll (think the M. Emmet Walsh of breads). Then the Monica pasta was new to me, if hailed as a classic (Chef Pierre Hilzim named it after his wife). Evidently Monica is a bit creamy with a kick, and then there's plenty of crawfish tails for that great shrimp-and-lobster-had-a-delicious-baby taste. As a pasta dish, it's not too heavy, either. Yep, with cream. Promise.

Dessert closed with classics. The beignets, like the oysters, hit the table hot, not just warm. (So yes, things are cooked to order.) Plentifully powdered, they somehow didn't do the typical beignet blow up all its sugary dust trick, either. Piquant raspberry sauce added a lovely fruity note, and somehow we didn't do shots with what was left after the beignets were gone. King Cake of course is the essential culmination cake of carnival season. Cinnamon swirl spices the open-aired dough, and then there's plenty of colored sugar festively sprinkled atop. There's a chance you might find a plastic baby Jesu in your piece (your server will even warn you), but ours was untouched by infant holiness. Here's hoping we have luck and prosperity for the next year anyway. (Brief sigh for the mess our world is currently in.)

Overall, the Mardi Gras Feast at Little Dom's proved the homey and warm spot is firing on al cylinders. Staff was attentive, polite, funny, not too intrusive but there when you needed them. The booths in the barroom that replaced Sly's (and, yes, heavy sigh for Sly's too) hightops are inviting and classic, especially with their marble tabletops. It's a place where one instantly wants to hang. Just ask the Mardi Gras beads dangling from one wall's mounted marlin.