From the Food Vault Dept.: I ran the review below on this blog a decade ago as the sidebar to another piece from the same Metroland issue. I noted that this review visit was in the company of a stranger, someone who had won the privilege of a review meal with me at some arts auction to which I foolishly agreed to donate the event, and we had absolutely nothing to talk about during the course of the meal. So I never mentioned her in the piece. Chef-owner René Facchetti sold the business a year after this review appeared, his successors didn’t seem to get more than a couple of years out of it, and it became Capitol House and the Patroon House before getting repurposed into a business office. It also emerged since then that this was one of the kitchens where celebrity chef Damon Baehrel trained, although Baehrel’s obsessive pursuit of the image of a complete autodidact keeps him from acknowledging that debt. Here, again, is my 1987 review of Chez René:
NERO WOLFE, the detective of literature who combined investigative genius with a passion for fine food, never permitted talk of business at table. It’s a splendid policy and one that, really, is so easy to follow when you sit down to dinner as a celebration.
Chez René is a lovely home in Glenmont, little altered save for the large professional kitchen added onto the back. Seating is in one of many small rooms for a truly intimate feel; service is discreet and ever watchful.
On a rainy weekday evening I met a guest under the awning and entered this wonderful embassy of old-fashioned France; our hostess was costumed in the colorful garb of that country.
Chef René Facchetti has been running the restaurant for over 12 years. “I was born in Brittany,” he explains, “and I trained there and in Paris. I’ve worked on the Riviera and the Cote Basque, among other places.”
His voice has the accent of his native country; it was his wife, Corinne, an American, who brought him here. “She was born in Schenectady and raised in the area. But she got a Fulbright scholarship to study art at the Sorbonne. I met her while she was spending some time in Paris, we got married, and we moved to this country.”
It was easy to leave the rain outside and pretend that we were dining in a Brittany village, although I may have spoiled the illusion somewhat by ordering an American wine, Konstantin Frank’s Pinot Chardonnay.
The bill of fare lets you know that you’re in the land of richly-dressed meats and delicious sauces. As we studied the menu the waiter told us about the day’s specials. I made up my mind from there.
René has a traditional grounding in his culinary approach, but adds, “I try to be a little bit contemporary. I always have four or five additional items on the menu every night, like veal kidneys, sweetbreads, rack of lamb.” And calves’ liver, sauce picante, which I demanded.
But we started the meal with two of Nature’s four best vehicles for garlic: shrimp and escargot (the other two are frog’s legs, which I’m too cowardly to eat, and pizza, which I eat much too often).
Nothing bashful about the garlic in each; nor were either of us bashful about drenching the dinner bread in the remains.
Ah, but this was a full-course meal; appetizers were quickly followed by a pair of soups. Traditional French onion, a crock of it, croutons and Gruyere dripping into the sturdy brown liquid.
The lobster bisque is creamy and rich with the crustacean – fresh, too, as certified by the couple of bits of shell I encountered.
Tomatoes, fresh from René’s garden, were the centerpiece of the salade du jour, dressed with a piquant Dijonnaise.
“I have lots of spices in my garden, too,” the chef says. “This morning I picked some fresh radishes which I ate myself. And I got a ton of fresh basil, which I put in the green beans.”
Use of the freshest food is obviously important to him. He describes the preparation of the sauce picante as follows: “I put some Bordelaise sauce in it, and I put a little vinegar in it. I mix some white wine vinegar with Balsamic vinegar from Italy. Then I add some fresh mushrooms, scallions, and shallots and thicken it.”
It was an astonishingly wonderful complement to a thick slice of tender liver, fresh and gristle-free. The plump mushrooms exploded in my mouth as I made my way through a generous helping.
On the other side of the table, a sauteed cutlet of veal topped with fresh asparagus and a Hollandaise, complemented by a serving of ratatouille that was out of this world.
That’s a traditional mixture of eggplant, zucchini and peppers in a light tomato sauce; the secret is in the use of herbs, which here blended into a delectable, mouth-filling bouquet.
The unlikely choice of potato I ordered, French fries, were just that: a plate of golden steak fries. Why not? Might as well let a real French chef try his hand at them and make the adjective, for once, appropriate.
You don’t tuck away every morsel of a meal like that. I didn’t. And I’m usually good at that sort of thing. I had this suspicion that dessert would be every bit the equal of the entree, and I’d glimpsed notice of a chocolate rum cake with which I polished off this splendid repast.
Dinner for two, with tax, tip and beverage, was $115. Metroland restaurant reviews are based on one unannounced visit; your experiences may differ.
Chez René – Route 9W, Glenmont, 463-xxxx. Full bar, nice wine list; dinner served 5-10 Tuesday-Saturday. Reservations required. AE, personal checks.
– Metroland Magazine, 1 October 1987
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