Upon first entry, le Pantruche affords a classic bistro ambiance: simple dark wood tables positioned fairly close together, abutted by leather banquettes or wooden chairs, one of which easily becomes a temporary support for the chalkboard menu of options. The wraparound bar at the heart of the small dining room is home to time-tested liqueurs like Chartreuse as well as a bouquet of seasonal flowers, and mirrors on either side give a touch of airiness to the space. And yet a few small details afford a touch of what I can only dub glitz: mirrored pillars, heavy velvet curtains protecting diners from the cold outside. With hindsight, this marriage of time-tested simplicity and a touch of modernity was, in all honesty, the perfect way of foreshadowing the truly dazzling flavors to follow.
The novelty and innovation at the heart of the cuisine at le Pantruche begin to calcify upon reading that chalkboard menu a bit more closely. Appetizers include a leek velouté with ginger-spiked goat cheese and shredded pork or tandoori-spiced langoustines with grapefruit puntarella. Mains may see duck breast served with roasted sunchoke or portobello mushrooms stuffed with mornay sauce and topped with beer emulsion – a vegetarian offering that in no way seems like an afterthought.
Despite the fine dining flavor combos here, the prices remain reasonable: Most appetizers cost 14 euros; mains are 25, desserts 10. Even with supplemental charges for some special offerings like scallops, it’s a steal given the quality. Plus, at lunchtime, a dish of the day can be enjoyed with any appetizer or dessert from the menu for 23 euros or with one of each for 43.
We opted to order à la carte, beginning with a house-made dumpling/ravioli dish stuffed with mussels and celery brûlée. The dumplings were served with a kabocha squash purée and a picon-spiked mussel broth that lent a hint of herbaceousness to the dish, the bitterness echoed with a hint of orange. While the dumpling wrappers were a bit thick and thus wanted a bit for some sort of broth or sauce, the flavors here were truly lovely.
Beef paleron, a cut that hails from the shoulder, was slow-cooked to perfection, albeit a bit under-seasoned. That said, it married beautifully with a sticky red wine reduction and black garlic purée, and when each bite was dragged through one or both of these sauces, the seasoning was perfect.
The beef was paired with braised Jerusalem artichokes, which are at long last finding their place on Parisian plates after years of being relegated to the category of légumes oubliés or forgotten vegetables. I usually roast this vegetable, but encountering the yielding, creamy texture braising affords was a true revelation.
The last element on this dish was perhaps the most daring: Coffee-infused gnocchi. I’ll admit that at first, I found these pillowy dumplings a bit odd; their rich, butter coffee aroma bordered on overpowering, especially when eaten on their own. This was definitely a dish that demanded to have each element combined, a bit of gnocchi, a bit of beef, and a bit of rich sauce together for a bite that was well-seasoned and offered the right marriage of salty, bitter, and umami.
I’ll admit, however, that I had a preference for the scallop dish, well worth the four-euro supplement. Four perfectly cooked scallops were paired with four generous planks of tender braised salsify. Two coins of smoky grilled boudin noir or blood pudding joined the melee, and a tangle of pigs’ ear chiffonnade was arranged at the center of the plate. Very thin slices of Granny Smith apple and a leaf of slightly overcooked steamed kale brought some vegetal freshness to the dish, while a jus that purported to be flavored with harissa merely added a rich, robust meatiness to this surf-and-turf preparation. The scallop coral was a bit overcooked, but other than that, it was tough for me to find a flaw with this surprising compilation of flavors and textures.
While we didn’t order wine, I was lucky enough to have my own personal guide with me, who let me know that there were a handful of fairly rare bottles on this list, including a Vin de Savoie from Eponyme produced by J.F Ganevat in homage to Dominique Belluard – and given its rarity, the price of 88 euros for the bottle was wholly reasonable.
We had set our sights on the Grand Marnier soufflé, but by the time we got around to ordering dessert, the time for such things had apparently passed. We instead opted to follow our server’s recommendation and order the chocolate lava cake, and, despite neither of us being particularly big chocolate fans, we both swooned. The cake itself was less lava-esque and more like a moelleux, but it was warm and paired wonderfully with a mildly whiskey-spiked crème anglaise, a toasted pecan topping, and a quenelle of some of the most delightful coffee ice cream.
Dishes at le Pantruche are generous and well thought-out, and the ambiance is exactly what one hopes for from a bistro: convivial and boisterous at lunchtime, filled with locals speaking mainly French. It’s the perfect place for a hearty lunch, especially on a cold day.
Le Pantruche – 3 Rue Victor Massé, 75009