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.

The Mousse That Baaa-ed: Black Sheep Is Back

Since closing down on September 4 at its longtime Ortega Street location, the Black Sheep has been reborn on Cota Street a mere three months later. In addition to the location change, it's now officially The Black Sheep, SB Brasserie, which is fitting as the new location was for two decades the home of one of Santa Barbara's legendary restaurants, Mousse Odile. Co-owner, GM, maitre-d Ruben Perez definitely hopes to invoke the French spirit of the spot, offering coq au vin and cassoulet and more, but with a definite Santa Barbara, contemporary twist. He found a great partner in the endeavor, chef Jake Reimer, who has done the high end executive chef for restaurant groups and the private chef gig, among others, but seems very happy to have fun with Santa Barbara produce and seafood.

We had the great fortune to be hosted for a culinary trip through permutations of the tasting menu they are already billing as "famous," which might not be conceited much as predictive. For everything we tasted rocked--vibrant flavors, thrilling freshness of both ingredients and concepts. So while I could go on and on about, say, the perfect steak frites, starting with the tender Entrecôte meat itself, and then a secret sauce that's got some anchovy in it but is otherwise vegetarian and rich and almost worth licking the plate to enjoy (luckily instead you have plenty of yummy handout fries), I won't.

I also won't talk about the reinvigorated creme brûlée, spanking the oft-tired dish back to life with a pinch of salt and what must be a fistful of Tahitian vanilla bean.

Nope, to focus, let's just talk about the three dishes that opened the meal and hit the table simultaneously. Above you see an essay in fishy contrasts, some lightly pickled sardines atop some sprouts atop some tuna you can't see, but it's confit and rich. Then there's a slice of baguette on the plate awash with a mustardy sauce. The contrasting textures and flavors kept your mouth alive to flavor's possibility.

Here's the evening's crudo--it's listed on the menu as d'jour, as it sort of has to be as it needs to be something just caught to sing. This one did a little aria, so might have crawled into the kitchen on its own. Well, if scallops crawled. Again, all the accents aren't just for show but push the dishing fascinating angles and richness without hiding the pleasing, starring salinity of the scallop.

And then, as a true Santa Barbara nod, here's uni with "dirty" rice, seaweed, and tobiko. Things get a bit soupy as you eat it, but with the rice it's kind of a wet porridge of big flavor delight. Here the accoutrements reel the urchin's assertiveness in just a tiny bit, which works with all the other vivid reminders of the sea in the bowl. It's a great example of lots of technique being brought to bear on something that seems simple. 

It's wonderful to have the Black Sheep back.

Bite into Santa Barbara Burger Week

 

I wrote one of the burger profiles for this week's Indy, about the delicious vegan bunless croquette they're doing. Here is my write-up:

Petit Valentien, semi-secreted off State Street in charming La Arcada, lives a delicious double life. On weekdays and weekend evenings, it’s French, thanks to co-owner Rob Dixon. But for weekend brunch, you get to enjoy Ethiopian fare, thanks to co-owner Serkaddis Alemu. And now, for Burger Week, you get to relish both cuisines on one plate with the French/Ethiopian Vegetable Croquette. 

Presented bunless, this three-bean veggie patty always mixes lentils, chickpeas, and black beans with onions, carrots, and beets. The rest, said Dixon, depends upon whatever else is freshest, from potato to eggplant. And you really get to sense the vegetables, pleasantly cubed up in the bean mix that remains relatively soft, except for the dusting of panko breadcrumbs that crisp up during the burger’s light fry. (That means the croquette is vegan but not gluten-free.) 

 What truly sets the dish off are the zippy Ethiopian spices worked in the mix that get a bit of a heat accelerant from a spicy avocado puree underneath. This is not a dish for heat-wimps: You will feel a definite slow-burn as you consume the croquette. The simple greens, tomato, and red onion salad, in its classic vinaigrette, makes for a good foil.

Care to read about the other 14 burgers that I did not write about, you can so that on the Independent's site. And go eat a lot of burgers and tell them the Indy sent you.