Of all the things that can make or break the success of a restaurant the biggest, and most apparent to potential diners, are photos of the food served within said restaurant’s walls. Think back to the last time you were walking past a sketchy Chinese restaurant that had faded pictures of menu items pasted to their street facing windows. The flaking, sun-baked images of beef, chicken and vegetables, turned slightly moldy from the effects of condensation forming between glass and paper. None of this screams, “Delicious cuisine inside”. More times than not I turn away from those places. So it was with Cocorico Patisserie in Kirkland. Before my first visit, a couple of weeks ago, I always shied away because the pictures that hung in the window of the sandwiches they served were poorly lit, off-colored and old looking. Again, not something one equates with quality eats. Of course what’s the saying, “Don’t judge a book by its cover”?

It took a co-worker’s weeklong Cocorico binge to wise me up to the potential in this strip mall lunch spot. Every day he would come down and ask if anyone wanted to join him. A few people agreed but my bias, based upon the photos in the window, kept me from agreeing. “Not today”, I’d say; while deep inside I was saying, “Or ever, yuck”. But one day I found myself, crippled by hunger pains, standing outside their doors. Once inside I was confronted with a blend of deli/pastry counter sandwich shop and French tea room: with claret colored curtains, wrought iron patio furniture, upholstered seating and plastic statuary. Behind the counter, pasted to the wall, are more of the same poorly photographed sandwich imagery; this time serving as the menu. One thing is for sure, Cocorico serves a wide variety of International sandwiches. If you are looking for something sandwich-like from a particular country, it is likely that you’ll find it in picture form on the menu of this restaurant’s back wall.

My choice for lunch I decided would be something less than exotic, something that would be hard to get wrong - Southern Pot Roast Sandwich ($4.99). While I’m not exactly sure what makes a pot roast from the south different from say, its Northern cousin. I can say that my sandwich contained the definitive essence of what a pot roast should be - tender, moist pieces of beef that have been cooked to the point where it literally falls apart in strands. Loaded with great beefy flavor it was also rich, tasting as if it had been bathing in gravy for an hour. Each pot roast sandwich comes with one’s choice of sauce: barbeque, teriyaki or horseradish. I’m of the belief that no beef dish is complete without the addition of horseradish, so that was my choice. The sandwich came dressed with lettuce, tomato and pickle. This last little bit, the pickle, is something which I wouldn’t normally request on a sandwich of this sort. But somehow it works, the brininess mixes with the richness of the meat and the spark of horseradish. I’d like to say it makes something of a tartar sauce but that’s not quite right. All of this was stuffed inside a freshly made demi-French roll of decent size. Unfortunately all you get with your sandwich order is a sandwich only; no chips or drink or dessert. There is dessert available in their large pastry case but the availability and variety can be spotty at times.

All-in-all Cocorico makes a good lunch and I look forward to trying many of the other sandwiches offered via faded photos. Of course lunch is the only time you can stop in as they are only open from 10:30 to 3:00, Monday through Friday. While this makes for significantly reduced opportunities for most people’s repast, if you work in the Totem Lake area, it adds one more selection to my list of nearby “out of the office” lunch spots. I may even offer some of my own sandwich shots to be used in the place of their current imagery.

For the most part I dine at restaurants that are fairly laid back, casual spots where one can feel comfortable wearing a t-shirt and jeans. It’s not that I have anything against getting dressed up, I think I clean-up fairly well even, it’s just that I feel much more at ease doing a review without having to worry about looking like a schlub. To wrap up French Food Fight Week I stopped at Campagne down at Pike Place Market (I seem to have spent quite a bit of time in that area of town this week) for dinner. And while there was no dress code policy I felt underdressed the moment I walked through the door. As the evening and my dinner wore on my self-consciousness didn’t fade.

Most of my fellow diners were dressed as though they were ready for a night out at a Broadway musical. While I had arrived early and the dining room was empty it didn’t stay that way long. By the time my entree arrived the place was over half full and people were still arriving. Fortunately for me I had a table by one of the large windows that looked out over the market, the bay and West Seattle beyond. I amused myself with watching the last of the day’s market shoppers wrap up their purchases while listening to the tango music on the overhead sound system. I caught myself a couple of times wondering if this is what dining in a fine restaurant in France would be like. But I was able to snap myself into reality long enough to place my order with the friendly, knowledgeable staff.

I started with an order of Asperges ($10.00). The plate that arrived held an expertly stacked square of marinated asparagus. Each spear was coated in a tart, tangy, shallot-filled vinaigrette. The vegetables themselves were cooked tender but retained a bit of their fresh snap. Holding the stack of asparagus in place was creamy smooth goat’s cheese. Savory, earthy and with a slightly sour, wild flavor the cheese was an interesting flavor combination for the starchy spears and tart, lemony vinaigrette. Rounding out the flavors was an olive tapenade that dotted the outer edges of the plate’s surface.

For the main entree I choose Poisson du Jour ($26.00) and a side order of Epinards ($6.00). The fish for the day was Fluke, which is a member of the Flounder family. The filet I received was much thicker than I’m used to seeing but was very tender for such a large piece of fish. Have a mild flavor itself the fish was assisted by the golden-brown, peppery crust that was formed during its pan sauté. Flakey and moist the Fluke was cooked perfectly. It had been plated on top of a small salad of warm cucumber slices and a chiffinade of salad greens. Below this was a puree of Walla Walla onion. This latter element was a little odd, sweet and starchy as a root vegetable should be but just not the right combination with the fish, at least not in my opinion. The cucumber salad though worked well. Even being warm the cucumbers were a nice contrast, with their cool flesh, to the savory, peppery fish. The epinards (Spinach) I had ordered as a side dish were a great bridge between my appetizer and the main meal. Sautéed thoroughly so that the leaves were fork tender they were coated in a lemony butter sauce that provided a bit of pucker that was reminiscent of the asparagus. A nice choice if you decide to go with the fish.

Of course the menu you that one sees one day will not necessarily be the menu of the next day. Campagne changes their offerings quite often depending on what is available at that time. Though they are listed as a French restaurant I would definitely rank Campagne as an upscale, fine-dining establishment with French influences and techniques, instead of a strict French bistro/restaurant. My recommendation to anyone deciding to check them out, and I suggest you do, at least once, plan on getting a little dressed up. Guys tuck in your shirt and wear a tie. Ladies, well, you probably don’t need fashion advice from me. However you decide to dress expect to dine on well-prepared food in an accommodating environment.

I almost ended French Food Fight Week early after last night’s disappointing dinner. “Perhaps,” I thought, “my meal at Cremant was indicative of how French fare truly is.” Maybe I’m just a wuss of an American who enjoys nothing but white bread and mayonnaise (That is far from the truth though as I really don’t enjoy either of those). “This whole French cuisine thing,” I postulated, “may very well, for me, be categorized much like I rate Thai food.” Okay, but not really a cuisine I would actively seek out. After some debate I decided to continue on with the remaining two restaurants on my list. I was not going to let one poor experience tarnish my tasting. So with nervous anticipation I fought my way through West bound traffic from Kirkland into Downtown Seattle to be on time for my 5:30 PM reservation at Chez Shea.

While at the last two restaurants I visited I was lucky to get a table due to my lack of a reservation, Chez Shea was a ghost town. I was the first and only guest. And yes, I had called ahead to have space saved for me. No matter, I enjoy having a restaurant to myself, the server focusing their attention on only me. This, I feel, is a great measure of a restaurant’s level of service. You see, during busy times it’s possible to excuse bad service as being busy, whereas if I am the only person eating, then there is no excuse for lousy service. As it turns out I had no need for complaint, as my server was prompt and courteous, providing me with bread, butter and water right away. With my order placed I turned my attention to staring out the window of Chez Shea onto Pike Place Market below and a fuzzy, misty Elliot Bay just beyond.

The first course to arrive from the kitchen was Le Chatelain Camembert & Leek Tart ($7.00). A crispy, golden-brown base of puff pastry was topped with large chunks of sea-fresh Dungeness crab and lobster. The shellfish was especially rich tasting as if it had just come out of a languishing soak in drawn butter. This may have been due to the wilted leek, with its mild flavor, and buttery puff pastry goodness. Crisp and rich the tart was further complimented by the rich, salty taste of melted Camembert cheese. Had it not made me look like a glutton I most likely would have ordered three more of this savory gems.

For the entree I decided upon Natural Filet of Beef Tenderloin ($30.00). While keeping my expectations low I cut a slice off the filet and ran it through the demi glace reduction. I will say that the beef was not stellar. As far as filets are concerned, and I know they are a very mild tasting cut from a cow, this one was more mildly flavored than most. But this was a perfect canvas for the thick and beefy reduction sauce. With a slightly sweet note the demi glace had the consistency of maple syrup and a savory flavor that paired well with the deeply browned crust of my filet. Melting in both the filet and sauce was a pat of truffle butter that added a very rich butter overtone to what could have been, if served alone, a dreary cut of meat. To accompany my filet were potatoes au gratin and asparagus. The asparagus was cooked just to done allowing it to retain its snap and garden fresh taste. But what really caught my eye with the sides were the potatoes. Not merely content to just slice potatoes and throw them in a cream sauce to soak in an oven, the chef prepared these spuds in a unique manner. Sliced paper thin, potatoes were stacked layer upon layer to form something of a small potato “cake”. This was then baked allowing the inner slices to steam and gently cook to a fork tender doneness and the outer crust to form, golden-brown and delicious. Topped with melted fresh mozzarella cheese this was one of the more simple au gratin techniques I’ve seen and by far the best.

To finish off the meal I ordered Meyer Lemon & Lavender Cheesecake ($7.00). Not your typical cheesecake the filling was sandwiched between two crispy sheets of pastry, each one thin as paper and as brittle as glass. The pastry provided a perfect base for cheesecake that had the physical appearance and heft of being dense but with one but all on tasted was airiness, lemon and the most faint of flowery notes. Dabbed in a bit of the provided lemon and berry sauce the cheesecake took on profiles of both fresh sweetness and pucker-y tart. While not what I’d consider a true cheesecake, since I almost licked the plate clean, I won’t quibble.

I am now two for three Seattle. Chez Shea, in my estimation, can join the ranks of fine French dining along with, well, for now, Le Pichet. But with tonight’s dinner I have renewed hope that the majority of my French dining experiences will turn out for the best. And if not then I at least have two great example of the cuisine to choose from. While set-up to be the more romantic of the two restaurants don’t allow that to deter you from taking friends, family or co-workers for an early evening dinner while watching the sun set across the sound. Who knows, you may even see me there, again, over the next few weeks.

One would think that I’d learn, but I don’t. It’s not so much the failure to grasp a concept though as it is sheer stubbornness. Like Frank Sinatra, I aim to say, “I did it my way.” Well my way includes not calling ahead to make a reservation and today I almost paid for my bull-headed nature. Of course it could be said that part of my reviews cover certain dining faux pas, showing you, the reader, what pit falls await you so that you may avoid them. So tonight, for the second night in a row, I visited a popular restaurant, hoping to get a table, without a reservation. Fortunately for me I was able to secure a spot, with a little hemming and hawing by the staff and promising from myself that I would be gone in under an hour, at one of the highly sought after tables of Cremant.

Fortunately for me I had studied the chalkboard menu just outside the entrance and had a good idea of what I would order. And that was the Cassoulet de Toulouse ($20.00), which to me sounded like a very French dish to order at such a French sounding establishment. Whether it was warning to me to eat fast or simply an informational comment I was told that I should expect for the cassoulet to take about twenty minutes to prepare. I kept myself busy with a sliced baguette the server deposited at my table and the book I carry with me for just these sorts of situations. Of all the great things I heard about Cremant I couldn’t wait to get this dish that, at least to me, screamed traditional French.

It took just under the aforementioned twenty minutes for the small Dutch oven containing my cassoulet to arrive at my table. While I had envisioned a large-ish plate in reality I was brought a cooking vessel that could have easily fed four people. If nothing else one gets a lot of food for their dollar but how does it taste. Here is where my dinner took a turn for the worse. The waiter served me up a bit of the stewed beans along with the Toulouse sausage, which looked fantastic. But upon cutting into the casing an outpouring of greasy rendered pork fat flooded the plate. Immediately I knew this sausage had not been pierced to allow the fat to meld with the bean-y goodness of the rest of the cassoulet. I cut off a slice or two and bit into the wonderfully mild, somewhat sweet, coarsely ground pork sausage. A hint of sage and rosemary this would have been a wonderful treat all the way through had it been cooked completely. You see, once I got past the first slice or two on the ends of the sausage the middle was so undercooked that the only word I can use is raw. While I thought maybe this is a traditional French preparation of pork sausage, to leave it well underdone, the duck confit told a different story. Stringy, tough and covered in its rubbery, waterproof skin the duck was nothing like the moist, fall-off-the-bone duck confit I’ve enjoyed in the past. Taking several bits I had to deal with either chewy skin or gristle and sinew from the hind corner of this poorly prepared canard. The saving grace to all of this was the pork filled bean stew with its extra crispy breadcrumb top-crust. The beans were buttery and tender while the pork added a nice smoky meatiness. Unfortunately I paid $20.00 for what amounts to no more that pork and beans.

I’ve written about eating at the latest fad restaurants and how they typically disappoint. I’ve also read where Cremant has, shortly after their grand opening, had great cuisine to offer its diners. But what happened tonight? The decor was beautiful (When I buy a house I hope to include some of the same exposed concrete details in my interior.), the staff willing to find me a seat and take a chance I wouldn’t camp out. But the kitchen, where the real light of a restaurant should shine, was on holiday. While cassoulet is not the easiest of dishes to make I would have thought that for a restaurant such as Cremant that this would not be a problem. While I did notice one or two other menu items that looked worth trying I don’t think that I’ll be returning to try them anytime soon.

This week begins my French food week. Why French you ask? Well in looking at all the restaurants I’ve visited since starting this site, and comparing them to the number of French restaurants in Seattle, I realized that I was doing you all a great disservice. I have been slack when it comes to reviewing, what some may call the foundation of fine cuisine, French restaurants. Be they well-worn favorites or new entries on the Seattle dining landscape there is plenty to talk about when it comes to the cuisine of France in the Emerald City. Also, while I may know a little bit about French cooking, I am, admittedly, a novice when it comes to Franco fare. So I made a list, checked it twice and headed out to report on French dining in our fair city. But do you remember a few posts back what I had mentioned about mice, men and their plans? Well either that old adage or Murphy’s Law came into play on this particular afternoon. My first French restaurant to try for this week turned out to be in the process of being painted. Luckily, in downtown Seattle, in the vicinity of Pike Place Market, there are three French restaurants that I know of. Since this one in particular was closed I’d just have to start at the other end the list and sample the plates at Le Pichet.

I arrived shortly after opening at Le Pichet and was immediately greeted with tables that read “reserved” on their chalkboard tops. A server came to greet me. “Do you have a reservation,” she asked. “Uh oh,” thought I, “maybe I won’t be reviewing a French restaurant tonight after all. But I was able to be seated in the middle of the long stretch of tables that lined the side of the restaurant, the far end and the end by the windows, I was told, being off limits. So with luck on my side I perused the menu for what tempting tastes Le Pichet had to offer.

To start I ordered Veloute de Champignongs et ses Gnocchies Parisiens aux Herbes ($10.00), otherwise known as Mushroom Soup with Asparagus. The bowl that arrived was piping hot and filled to the brim with velvety, mushroom-y brown soup dotted with large bites of asparagus. Upon first bite I realized that this was no Campbell’s soup. Deep, thick and rich the soup had an elusive taste that played on the final note of woody, earthy mushroom flavor and sweet heavy cream. I almost want to say it was nutmeg, that little hint of fleeting spice, but whenever I thought I’d have it cornered it would always slip away. Dotting the soup were little dumplings that had a nice herbal tartness but were a little on the doughy side. Floating above and below the surface of the soup were just cooked asparagus, which still held some fresh snap and large-ish, slightly chewy bits of mushroom. If this soup were clothing it’d be a fine velour smoking jacket.

For the main course I requested Truite Sautee a La Meuniere et Sa Salade Tiede de Flageolets et Radis ($17.00), or Sautéed Trout with a Fried Egg. I know what some of you are saying right now, “But I thought you hated eggs?” I do; look closely at the above pictures and you will see I had them delete the egg from my meal. Not to worry though as I feel that the egg was not a crucial part of this particular dish. No, the main focus of this dish was the lovely, golden brown trout filet. Lightly floured and gently sautéed the fish wore a beautiful crust that enclosed moist, flavorful fish. Fresh in flavor but still rich nonetheless, possibly from its sauté in butter, the fish was accompanied by greens and flageolet beans. The beans were cooked to a just underdone al dente, still with a little bite to them. Meanwhile the greens were given just a short jump in the pan to wilt them, their stems still crispy and the leaves holding onto their slight bitterness. Complimenting this were tiny medallions of sautéed sweet radish. Like little sugary jewels these radish slices added great contrasting flavor to meaty bean and bitter green. The vegetables all wore a light dressing made of butter and anchovy, rich and tart but not overpowering as it was applied conservatively.

If my meal at Le Pichet is indicative of French dining down by Pike Place Market then I need to kick myself for not spending more time down by the market. While the restaurant itself is understated, not calling a lot of attention to itself with fancy signs or elaborate paintings, the food speaks volumes. Even in the simple preparations of the evening meal I noticed care and love put into the creation of the meal. By all means I will be sure to try Le Pichet again and again. Only, next time, I’ll call ahead and reserve a table; so should you.