More Is More
Chef Greg Sonnier surprises and delights with his offbeat take on Creole
cuisine.
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Manager Morgan Stroud (left) with the bold decision-makers of Gamay
Bistro: chef/owner Gregory Sonnier and chef de cuisine Whit Thorne.
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WHAT: Gamay Bistro
CUISNE: Creole
WHEN: Lunch Friday, dinner Tuesday through Saturday
WHERE: Bienville House Hotel, 320 N. Peters St., 299-8800
CARDS: Major
Greg Sonnier's cuisine has been called "bold," "charismatic," "enthusiastic"
and "eclectic." I call his food lusty, laborious, at times unnecessary, but
utterly mesmerizing. It must be impossible to leave Gamay Bistro hungry. Still,
there remains a longing in the pit of my stomach, that empty wail that follows
the loss of everything desirable, especially when it lasted a mere three or
four courses.
Sonnier's vibrant, manly, deliciously overwhelming meals are not
the sort that call for cigars and meaningless banter afterwards. No, they
occasion brass bands, spontaneous ramblings, champagne until dawn. Try to deny
it, and combinations you never have encountered suddenly will stalk your
private thoughts: tomatillo and rabbit, watermelon and beef, smoked salmon and
pistachio, and melted Spanish cheese with caviar. Even his more comforting
offerings (Yukon Gold potato chips, homemade bread-and-butter pickles, and
strawberry shortcake) arrive at the table overflowing in size, scope and
seasoning.
Gamay is nestled inside the Bienville House Hotel, the second
successful restaurant that Sonnier and wife Mary operate in New Orleans (the
first, Gabrielle, sits on a wedge of land between Mystery Street and Esplanade
Avenue in Faubourg St. John). Sonnier got his start in Paul Prudhomme's kitchen
before working with fellow Prudhomme alumnus Frank Brigtsen. The bistro
welcomes diners in mostly muted, dunelike beiges and greens. Only a trio of red
and gold wall hangings hint at the rambunctious food. A glass partition etched
with whimsical, high-heeled anklets separates smokers in the bar area, while
the bar itself is a spacious expanse ideal for the solo diner. Additionally, a
stone courtyard patio seats a lucky 20 on evenings of tolerable weather. The
subtle tones, the food-smart wait staff in all-black attire, a music selection
ranging from Portishead to Willie Nelson, and a jolly crowd of dedicated eaters
all converge to form a classy but offbeat ambience.
Although the decor comforts and the staff accommodates, the brave
decisions made in the kitchen of Louisiana natives Sonnier, chef de cuisine
Whit Thorn and pastry chef Victoria Cheramy give the restaurant its pronounced
character. Begin with a surprising cup of chilled avocado soup. What sounds
like a refreshing spring starter is a rib-sticking, green-tinted cream with a
background of ripe avocado flavor, small dices of sweet watermelon and sharp
onion, garnished with a large slice of medium-rare beef. It's a lot of
character for one little cup.
The rabbit tenderloin tamale served unrolled upon its cornhusk is
smothered in a dark caramelized tomatillo sauce that gains spice and smokiness
from roasted jalapeno and poblano chilies. The flavor of rabbit drowns
somewhere in the sauce, the moist masa coating, and a fresh corn and cilantro
relish, but the result is pure border-crossing bliss.
Even salads are prepared with gusto. A balsamic vinaigrette douses
(but thankfully does not wilt) beefy leaves of arugula and spinach.
Skeptical gastronomes who doubt the claim that tastes of high
cuisine can summon lustful longing in the eater need look no further than
Gamay's grilled yellowfin tuna. Dollops of pistachio-mint pesto blanketed with
smoked salmon top the mighty fillet. Dotting the already colorful heap are pink
peppercorns and capers, loud components of a beurre blanc of fresh dill and
Chardonnay. Initially, the dish sounds absurdly over-the-top. Eating it
transformed me into a purely sensual being. Each bite gave rise to a new taste,
alluded to another flavor. Like much of the food I tried at Gamay, this dish
bordered on too salty but recovered with ingenuity. The unlikely components
didn't necessarily complement each other; in fact, they mostly competed. As
with all elusive objects of desire, however, I wanted more.
As he says himself, nobody does duck like Sonnier. He serves half
of the slow-roasted bird deboned and piled on top of a mound of shoestring
potatoes, shiitake mushrooms and roasted red peppers. The slightly dry duck
breast regains moisture in the reduced roasting liquid of soy sauce, orange
juice, sherry, garlic and rosemary.
Throughout one of my meals at Gamay Bistro, I relished sips of an
unorthodox glass of champagne to relieve my taste buds in a house where even
the dark coffee bites with both pleasure and pain. I sampled flawless desserts
including a mango sorbet, a towering caramel-topped apple upside-down bread
pudding, and Louisiana strawberries with sugar-crusted shortcake. The latter
two selections are creations of Mary Sonnier (now busy with two daughters, 9
months and 11 years) that originally gained fame at Gabrielle.
In truth, the worldly fare at Gamay Bistro stretches the limits of
any categorized cuisine and teaches that less is not always more, that even in
artful and tasteful cooking moderation is not law. Pistachio and smoked salmon
still stalk my thoughts with haunting desire. I am grateful for the lesson.
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