Wellfleet's Wicked Oyster: Not Bad At All

Last weekend Sven and I ate at Wicked Oyster. We had not dined there together for six years. Wicked Oyster is the closest restaurant to Chez Sven, walkable in fact, and a place we often send guests. What I really appreciated was the serenity of the setting. Of course, serenity was what I needed after last week. The food was good, too. I started with lentil soup. Sven ordered mussels, his favorite. A charming waitress served our main dish with a smile: lamb stew, perfect for a winter’s evening. Her ancestors came from the Azores, but she had grown up in Provincetown. I would have liked a bit of parsley on top, but, hey, I lived in France 25 years and have come to expect such things. I loved the candles, the fire in the fireplace, the paintings by local artists on the yellow walls. I asked about rivalry with the new French guys on the block. Max explained that the popularity of PB actually brought more discerning clients to town, so it had become a win-win situation. The only downside to our dinner was the check. Wicked has gotten pricey with entrées at twenty-five to thirty dollars ...

PB Delivers for the Holidays

Last night Sven and I ate at PB Boulangerie Bistro. We had the "prix fixe menu," ie. a green salad, swordfish with risotto, and a dessert, all for $30. The food was, of course, delicious. PB is planning some incredible holiday meals, so do check them out if you happen to be on Cape. (Seven Fishes on December 24th, and a very special multiple-course New Year's Eve dinner the following week for $190.) While we were at PB, we were able to appreciate the extensive decorations for Noel, as well as the new fire pit outside and multiple water fountains. As we were leaving, it occurred to me again how fortunate we are here in Wellfleet to have this top-notch French bistro with its excellent chef, friendly staff, and pleasant ambiance. I think I can say, without risk of error, that they are all looking forward to the month and a half vacation that starts with the first days of 2012. For once, Sven and I were seated on the patio, and, actually, it was easier to keep up a conversation, because the only person making noise was Frank Sinatra, on the loud-speaker!

How About Dinner at PB BoulangerieBistro?

When Sven and I picked up French bread on Friday at PB BoulangerieBistro, we were able to appreciate the magnificent decorated pumpkins, outside. Inside, the mood was somber after the death of a favorite customer, Larry Peters, VP of the Wellfleet Historical Society. There was a short line for buying bread and a long line of chocolate eclairs in the pastry case. I spied a pate en croute in the vitrine and decided we had to have a piece. While it is still necessary to make a reservation ahead for Saturday night, I bet there's room on Sunday nights. We ate at PB two weeks ago. The risotto with butternut squash was to-die-for...

When the Bread No Longer Rises ...

Last week I snapped a photo of bikers, leaving PB Boulangerie Bistro with their tummies full, happy to have discovered one local business that seemed to be a fairy tale come true to all Wellfleetians: a real French bakery and bistro. These tourists probably did not remark anything remiss, but the natives cannot help but notice. Something has changed. The tight faces of the serving staff, the absence of the chef’s wife, who used to be in charge of the cash register, a longer wait than usual for a main course in the restaurant. And, of course, the bread.

“It isn’t as good, especially the whole wheat,” a friend reported with a sigh. She had been a big fan, too.

When my son was here two weeks ago with his French wife, I treated them to croissants. The bottoms were burned. Then, this weekend, I bought a fourth of the famous large round loaf (shown here, top right, with some croissants and baguettes made over a year ago, when the oven was being tested). The bread looked weird, but I was in a hurry. Once back home, I realized the problem: the loaf had not risen the way it should. Normally I would have said something in the bakery, but I had been too busy complaining about the pain de mie, burned on top. When I served it yesterday morning to the guests, I realized the inside part – the “mie” – did not taste as sweet either.

I have been hesitating to write about why because it makes me sad. My friends and I hoped mediation would be an option. It apparently was not. With all the hotsy-totsy reporters in Wellfleet this summer, I figure the news will appear shortly, so it’s time to share what I know. You cannot have a four-star bakery without a four-star chef. Boris, the master baker, has left. There was a quarrel. He was replaced.

I feel regret for both Boris and Philippe, two longtime friends who lived an amazing dream: they created a successful year-round business in a seasonal town, a marvelous place to eat and dream France, with a line out the door even in winter.

I also feel sorry for Wellfleet because buying “le bon pain français” is no longer the same, unless Boris opens another bakery. He is still here, so that still might happen.

I continue to recommend PB to my guests, because the restaurant remains exceptional. Unfortunately, I can no longer say the same about the bread. And, the fairy dust? Dissipated….

Another Dinner at PB Makes My (Birth) Day

Thank you for all the birthday wishes! Sven took me out to dinner at PB Boulangerie Bistro. We got there early, before the crowds had arrived. I ordered onion soup and mushroom risotto. Sven chose snails, followed by one of the specials, a lamb shank that was extremely tasty and quite dramatic with its sprig of rosemary. The lamb had been cooking all afternoon. (The French have a verb for this, of course. It is "mijoter" and perfectly describes the method of cooking. The word evokes a marvelous aroma, one which filled Wellfleet's bistro last night.)

Sven and I discussed how successful Boris, Philippe and Valeria, Philippe’s wife, have been with their venture, which opened only last year. We decided the difference was in the details. At one point, Sven had dropped his napkin. When he reached down to pick it up, Sebastien, the "sommelier," swooped in with a clean one. The staff is discreet, efficient, and seem happy to work there. The music, playing in the background, reminded us both of our French travels. The tunes had obviously been chosen with care. Return customers always receive a special greeting from the chef or his wife, as would be the case in any good bistro in France. In fact, a dinner at PB really transports you to France. This restaurant is the perfect antidote to the nostalgia Francophiles may feel between trips abroad.

When we reached dessert, a waitress cranked the “luminaire” and the lights dimmed, then everyone clapped. As I blew out the sparkler/candle on my crème brulée, I felt special, just the way anyone should feel on their birthday.

(While we are on the subject of PB, I wanted to point out their Alsace Wine Dinner, Thursday April 14th at 6 pm. The cocktail reception is followed by Seared Fois Gras, Trout Matelote, Choucroute Garnie, and Apple Strudel. The menu includes four different types of white wine. The whole shebang costs only $85, plus tax and gratuity. This dinner is an event, one not to be missed, for a very modest price considering all the food and wine involved. Reservations are still available …)

Yummy Holiday Treats Abound At PB Boulangerie Bistro

Oh, my. Yesterday I stopped in at PB for bread, on the way home from Orleans. The man in front of me in line was having "one of this, and one of that," a slice of pizza, a lemon tart, an almond croissant. He left with a paper bag full of lusciousness. I was stuck in front of the pastry case during his order. Now that the holidays are here, PB seems to be producing buches de Noel almost every day. The "buche de Noel," which translates as "Christmas log," is a traditional treat, available in bakeries in France, during the holiday season. So far, at PB, I have seen individual slices that seem to have raspberry filling, and others with chocolate. They look yummy, but fattening. It's almost as if the pastry chef is trying to decide which type of buche he/she prefers making. Sometimes the whole buche is for sale. The chocolate buches I saw yesterday made me swoon, but I restrained myself and requested a loaf of bread instead, as usual.

"Anything else?" asked the young lady in green, polite as can be.

"Let me have that apricot tart, please," I muttered, succumbing in one fell swoop.

Fruit doesn't make you gain weight, now does it?

PB Boulangerie-Bistro Does Thanksgiving

Yesterday I explained how Sven and I wound up at PB for Thanksgiving dinner,so I would really be remiss if I did not follow up with a report, now wouldn't I? As might be expected, PB dished up excellence. Our plates contained both white and dark meat, only the dark meat, on the right, was hidden in a crust atop the stuffing. The vegetables were presented as a rectangle, dressed up with immaculate marshmallow topping that made them remind me of a clean-cut French girl, in starched apron, off for a first day of school. The pumpkin pie was crust-less and yummy. Phillipe stopped by our table to say hello. On the way out, I noticed all bakery items were half price. I do not know if the sale will continue today, but anyone local who has not yet enjoyed the apricot tart or chocolate eclairs, head on down!

How a Last-Minute Turkey Search Leads to Another PB Adventure

Happy Thanksgiving, all! On Monday night my elder daughter announced she would join us for dinner today, great news, but unexpected. I did not have a turkey on hand … I had just read a fellow blogger’s account of killing the bird she and her husband had raised (Starving Off the Land). Tamar Haspel fled Manhattan for Cape Cod to see if she could survive off the land. Slaughter of your own turkey makes sense to me. It was like the old woman in Cold Mountain, who killed the goat and thanked it beforehand. Since we were not raising our own turkeys and did not plan ahead for Thanksgiving as did another Cape blogger, Elspeth Hay, who writes Diary Of A Locavore, local turkey would not be an option. Perhaps we could get in on a little organic turkey action instead?

Reminders to order turkey ahead seemed to have been posted everywhere last week, but, on Tuesday, not a one could I find. Wellfleet Marketplace might have stocked an extra bird or two, but I was already in Hyannis for a dental appointment and there was no way to find out. Before heading home, I did some shopping at Trader Joe’s. The remaining turkeys were enormous. Surely there would be smaller ones in Orleans?

To my surprise, Phoenix had none whatsoever. The turkeys probably arrived the following day for those customers who thought to place orders ahead of time.

After Phoenix, I hightailed it to the poultry aisle at Stop & Shop and dug out the last two organic turkeys from a flock of antibiotic-laden birds. My choice sported no label, so I heaved the frozen bird under my arm and set off in search of a price. With trepidation I pushed past the rubber door flap into the butchers’ domain but there was nary a butcher in sight. I managed to flag down a Stop & Shop employee, beside the steaks display.

“This turkey has no label,” I said.

“You don’t want to buy it frozen, lady,” he told me. “Won’t defrost in time for Thanksgiving. Grab a Butterball instead. They’re fresh.”

Chastened, I returned the organic bird to the freezer case with a loud clunk. Butterball I would not buy because of an Environmental Working Group warning that non-organic turkeys may contain arsenic. But, seriously now, had I stopped to think about whether it made sense to spend $30 on a ten-pound turkey? My daughter eats very little, and turkey is not Sven’s favorite. Winged turkey sandwiches began doing dainty pirouettes in my head.

“Let’s go to a restaurant!” my husband suggested when I got home.

I called Wicked Oyster. Closed Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday this week. Oh, rats! Then yesterday morning I dialed PB to see if there had been a cancellation. We were in luck. My daughter will get to experience PB Boulangerie Bistro. Dinde á la française, here we come!

PB Boulangerie-Bistro: Bring on the Stars!

I know many of you have been looking forward to a report on the newest dining sensation in New England – that would be PB Boulangerie Bistro, of course. Since November is half over, Sven and I were able to get a spur-of-the-moment reservation. Yes, Wednesday was the big day: we finally got to dine at Wellfleet's marvelous new French bistro ...

"Oh! Philippe isn't here tonight" Valeria Rispoli exclaimed with great disappointment as she seated us at a small table in the center of the room. "Bon appetit!"

I was sorry to miss her husband, the famous chef, but glad to be there nonetheless. A slew of delicious-sounding specials rolled off our waitress's tongue, including butternut soup, a regular appetizer which B&B guests had described as fabulous. I felt a bit overwhelmed by the choice and regretted even more Philippe's absence. One dish that intrigued me was squid with ink-dyed pasta. Instead, I picked the risotto with black truffles and suggested to Sven that he might enjoy the cod with smashed potatoes, another favorite with our mid-summer and early-fall guests. We began with a yummy beet salad, and champagne, compliments of the chef.

This week the dining room was decorated with orange banners announcing the arrival of Beaujolais Nouveau 2010, just like in restaurants and wine stores all over France. Sven asked Sebastien, the "sommelier," for a glass, but the rules did not permit opening the first bottle until midnight, November 18th. (Yesterday PB chefs started serving up a number of unexpected dishes, using the fruity wine. Even Boris decided to incorporate it into his bread.)

There was much excitement in the air, although PB has now been open five months. Only five tables were full at 5:30, and a lone diner sat hunched over the bar, leaning into his mussels from Chatham with obvious relish. Beyond him, I noticed Ben Zehnder in the kitchen, chatting with the assistant chef. While we were waiting for our entrées, the waitress brought complementary cups of butternut squash soup, yum! (Customers can also purchase it in the adjoining bakery.)

The room was bustling and a bit noisy, but quieted as Sebastien began to hand-crank the "luminaire," an unexpected touch that made us feel as if we were truly back in France, in an earlier century. While Sven sang along to "Sous les ponts de Paris," I noticed a gentleman in an electric wheelchair had accessed a table with his lady friend, and thought how incredible it is to have a local establishment like this one. Check out my risotto! It was sublime.
Sven enjoyed his cod, too. "After the French Revolution, the nobility got wiped out," he was explaining. "So, there were a lot of chefs out of work. They started their own restaurants."

An adventurous diner, at a neighboring table, had ordered the squid. His wife said she was a French teacher. One look at their happy faces told me this outing to PB had been the highlight of their Cape Cod trip. I photographed his entree before it left the kitchen. Does it ever look good! "How was the squid?" I asked.

"Scrumptious!" he declared with a grin, as a trio vacated one of the booths, veteran PB diners, apparently.

"This is our third or fourth time," said the father when I asked about his meal. "And, we didn't have to wait tonight!"

I returned to our table and discovered someone had managed to refold my napkin, displaying the PB front and center. Our waitress? Sebastien? Certainly not Sven! It was another nice touch that reminded me this restaurant is indeed special.

"Know where the word bistro comes from?" my husband asked. "After the defeat of Napoleon, there were a lot of cossacks in the Russian troops, quartered in the fields west of the Champs Elysées. They wanted food fast, so they said, "Bistro, bistro!' and the name stuck."

Since the kitchen is open, we could watch the chefs, in their white toques, at work. No sooner had we finished dessert – creme brulée – than Sebastien brought "tarte tatin" and a narrow tray of pastries, the width of the table. Sven helped himself to a miniature "millefeuilles" and, before taking a large bite, announced, "These are called Napoleons in Sweden." He was about to tell me that the chef's hat originated in Turkey when Boris Villatte suddenly swept up to our table, off duty at last.

The baker told us how happy he was that we had finally made it in for dinner. What a sweetheart! We discussed vacation plans and how hard it is to find good organic flour in the USA, but that is for another post, and superfluous here. What mattered was the quality of the food. We had enjoyed an excellent meal and said so.

I was watching the ballet at three joined tables behind me, where two waitresses were helping Valeria set up for the next group of diners. Sebastien hovered nearby. I could not help but remark the conscious effort, on the part of each member of the PB staff, to make the dinner experience truly remarkable for every client. No wonder this place has garnered so many rave reviews. All I can do is add mine today. Bring on the stars!

Did you get to try PB this summer or fall? What was your favorite dish?

Thoughts on Local Food and the Food Safety Bill

Since the weather is perfect this weekend, lots of non-resident taxpayers are around. I saw them at PB Boulangerie Bistro yesterday, when I stopped in for bread. The air was redolent with the sensuous aroma of apple tart and almond croissants, fresh from Boris’s gigantic imported oven. I stood there and waited ten minutes, the time required for the tourists in line to make up their mind, enough time for a cloud of sweetness to descend and follow me back outside, baguette in hand. My hair still smelled tantalizing by the time I reached Wellfleet Marketplace. I wanted to pick up some beef raised in Truro for a beef stew, but it was all sold out. There wasn’t even any stewing beef in the freezer. I could have bought ground beef, but I’m not too crazy about pre-ground, even when it's from a Truro farm, so we had quiche instead. Still, I want to salute the Marketplace for stocking more local food. There’s talk that Preservation Hall will house a farmer’s market or an organic veggies and fruit co-op in its basement, which would be a marvelous addition for year-round residents. I have a friend who keeps repeating, “We are what we eat,” and I remember her words whenever I go shopping with my canvas tote and basket. There's an obesity epidemic in the USA, and I believe it is, in part, due to all the high fructose corn syrup pumped into everything.

The Food Safety bill may reach Congress shortly. It is extremely complicated. From what I understand, small farmers will be in jeopardy if the bill passes without sensible amendments to protect them. Remember all those factory eggs that were recalled two months ago? The mega producer merely received a slap on the wrist, as did the bankers who created the worldwide mess with their credit default swaps. From recent raw milk raids, I have realized the FDA is pro-BigAg and no longer feels the obligation to pretend otherwise. We need our small farmers and local food more than ever. Please take a moment to read this post by a food blogger in the know and educate yourself on this important issue. We are what we eat …

Does your town have local food options? Has your awareness of food and nutrition changed of late? Do you think genetically modified food should be labeled?

Just Say No to GMOs ...

This amazing apricot tart came from PB Boulangerie Bistro. It reminded me of the excellent pastry we used to enjoy in France. In France, such pastry does not contain GMOs because the EU had the sense to ban them. Here, much harder to say. No doubt the PB chefs would avoid GMOs if that were possible, but GMOs have been slipped into the food system in the United States almost surreptitiously. From my reading, I am realizing what a grave error it was to allow this to happen. Monsanto has just bought Blackwater's clandestine intelligence services (renamed Xe Services). Monsanto is in the process of taking over our food supply. If you don't believe me, begin by watching the documentary Food Inc. We need to oppose GMOs en bloc. To that effect, please pass on this rap song by Mike Adams. He says it all. The song is simply brilliant.

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Update on PB Boulangerie Bistro

Good news: PB will soon open again for lunch! And, it's easier to get a reservation for dinner now that October has arrived. Future guests even reported success for next Saturday, which is totally amazing when you consider two weeks ago Valeria was still saying, "We have five o'clock, or nine thirty."

Sven and I have not had a chance to go, although I have heard plenty of glowing reports. Advance reservations for Wednesday through Sunday nights is tough for innkeepers in the fall, when more guests seem to arrive in the evening.

I was trying to explain this to Boris yesterday. He looked very disappointed that we have not yet experienced "la cuisine francaise de PB." I was speaking French, because the people, standing in line, were throwing me strange glances for having drawn the baker over to one side, and I wanted our conversation to remain private. With his chef's toque, Boris has become part of the show. I'm so impressed by Wellfleet's young French baker, who wakes up at four a.m. to start preparing the bread. What a splendid job he does!

I have also heard PB will close for two months this winter, probably January and February, also good news because the owners will probably journey to the land of "gastronomie" and return refreshed, ready to make many more feathery croissants and succulent crepes ...

Two Thumbs Up for PB Boulangerie Bistro

This week I received an email from Larry in Washington: "I've been happily following your blog since first finding it early in the year. I'd been trying to locate information about the progress of my friend's business in Wellfleet and yours seemed to be the only place it was mentioned. It's since opened and from all I can tell (from you) has been a smashing success..... The place is PB Boulangerie/Bistro. I know they're swamped with bakery business....what about the Bistro? Have you eaten there yet? Enjoyed the food as much as the baked goods?"

We have not yet been brave enough to affront the crowds, so the answer to that question is no. We are waiting for September. But, but, but ... yesterday evening Sven and I were chatting with our Liberty Coin Suite guests, about to leave for dinner.

"You know where we really enjoyed?" Carmen said. "PB Boulangerie Bistro, the ...."

Oscar finished her sentence: "French bistro."

Carmen's face brightened at the memory.

"We sat at the bar, because we did not have reservations. The chef, Philippe, spoke to us and served us pate de campagne." She kissed the tips of her fingers. "Oscar had cod. I chose a salad. For desert, mousse au chocolat. And, of course, champagne."

"The best food we've had here by far!" Oscar added.

There you go, Larry. Straight from the mouths of Europeans. Give our French bistro two thumbs up! Your friends are doing extremely well. Did you really have any doubt about that?

Update 8/12: Great article in the Boston Globe.

Update 8/13: More amazing press in the Washington Post.

Update 8/17: Further mention by a New York Times food blogger.

Has anyone else had a chance to eat dinner at the Wellfleet bistro over the past three weeks since it opened? If so, would you care to share your opinion here?

Wellfleet on Dwellable

Fiddle Me A Tune ...

Yesterday Sven and I were treated to a short fiddle concert by our guests, Margaret and Lourdes, two sisters from western Pennsylvania, in town for the opening of PB Boulangerie Bistro. What a great idea to have brought their fiddles! While the two women played bluegrass on the yellowed grass of our front lawn, Sven sat spellbound, a big bluegrass fan. One song even dated from the Civil War. They played joyous foot-stomping, hand-clapping music. As the notes rang out, a jogger on Old King's Highway paused to listen. Not every day you hear a fiddle in Wellfleet! A fiddle is a violin, they told us afterward, and a fiddler is someone who was too lazy to learn the violin. Same instrument, same bow. Now, I bet you are wondering whether they really came all that way for French food. Did the reputation of Wellfleet’s newest restaurant reach as far as Pennsylvania? In fact, Margaret’s son is a chef and will be helping Philippe Rispoli out in the new bistro kitchen when the restaurant opens this afternoon. Mom came to cheer on her son.

PB Boulangerie Bistro to Open for Dinner

I snapped the photo above one year and one week ago. When I stopped by, Philippe Rispoli and Boris Villatte had begun tearing down the walls at the old clam shack on LeCount Hollow Road themselves, unable to wait one day longer to start their project. The right-hand wall of the small shop is now covered with baskets. Each basket contains a different type of bread. A line of customers snakes out the door toward the parking lot. Today I bought bread with my daughter, who grew up outside Paris, and she commented, "Makes me nostalgic. Smells like France in here ..."

How far the two childhood friends have come since this photo! Their dream has been realized with the phenomenal success of their bakery, opened in February: (Un succes fou!) Several weeks ago the chef flexed his culinary muscles cooking breakfast and lunch for the bistro. Now the big moment has arrived: (Le grand moment!) Time for more serious activity: (Passons aux choses serieuses.) Philippe will offer up cuisine francaise starting Wednesday, which happens to be Bastille Day. Since the PB Boulangerie Bistro owners are sensible folks, they decided to stop serving breakfast and concentrate on dinner. Light fare will be available in the dining room and on the deck from 3 to 5. Then "le diner" will be served from 5 to 11. Escargots? Coq au Vin? Cuisses de grenouille? I have not yet been fortunate enough to get a peek at the menu, but I bet moules marinieres will be featured, as well as clever adaptations of French specialties, only featuring "Wellfleet" prominently in the name. Get your stars ready: (Preparez vos etoiles!) This is sure to be a class act. Remember that old French proverb, "Qui mange bien, vit bien." What?? That's not a French proverb? Well, it should be. A table!