bouillabaisse becomes
Don’t talk about fashion, but they’ve got that, too. Rather, fish is the first word at Bouillabaisse, Khram Drakona’s new sister on Leninsky Prospekt. Seafood lovers indulge their sins and their souls as Chef Terrion pursues piscean perfection.
PHOTO GEORGY IVANOV/ TEXT SONYA RINKUS feedback
Billabaisse brings to mind a joke: “How many Dadaists does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Fish!” Not funny? Eh, you don’t even have to understand it — just know that, whatever the question, the answer’s always “fish,” and with an exclamation point. The restaurant may have been done up by Andrei Tsygankov, author of trendy Prado Cafe, but fish always comes before fashion. “The chef is a fanatic,” related manager Alexandra gravely, conjuring the image of a wild-eyed Captain Ahab surrounded by fish heads, though when I did catch a glimpse of Lillian Terrion at work through the large glass window at the front of the restaurant, he seemed more in a state of quiet fanaticism. Complete transparency into the kitchen, a loaded aquarium of potential victims and the newly slaughtered on a bed of ice (but not frozen) all announce to the entering patron, “Fear not, our fish is fresh.” The restaurant is named for its crown dish, a traditional Marseille seafood soup — the “most expensive soup in Moscow” at 7,300 rubles for a four-to-six person serving, according to Afisha. But despite its humble claims to be “all about the food,” Bouillabaisse has a careful eye on style as well as substance, making it about as close to your friendly stolovaya as Galereya is. Arriving at the restaurant indistinguishable from the rank and file of Leninsky Prospekt, I was sized up by the hostess with guilty-until-proven-innocent disdain — although, to be fair, it’s the same treatment I get from the dyevushka at the local producty — before being shown to an immaculate white cubicle by the window, just under the crystal chandelier centerpiece. Waiting for my Belorussian dining companion to arrive, I perused the menu, smartly adorned by a black-and-white photo of ‘50s bathing beauties holding, you guessed it, fish. The same image is plastered floor to ceiling on a main wall of the dining hall, putting a quirky spin on prosaic elegance — the touch of master Tsygankov! The Belorussian seated, we set about on the first order of business: tipple. Despite the high-quality of the seafood, it’s strangely the drinks that make this place unreachable for regular folk. One could easily get out of Bouillabaisse with a $50 bill for a full meal of delicious seafood, unless she decided to wet her beak a little. We had to clarify with the sommelier that the prices were, in fact, not in rubles, as 140 for the cheapest bottle of champagne (Moet & Chandon Brut Imperial) seemed suspiciously reasonable. The sommelier — who is, by the way, a dead ringer for the pillowy-lipped head feis controller at Dyagilev, and every bit as haughty — seemed put out by the confusion. But it was not an outrageously prole mistake on our part; the food menu prices are in dang rubles. Shamed, we went with a bottle of 2002 Robert Mondavi Chardonnay ($55). Choosing dishes was an extreme test of vocabulary — the menu is not available in English — as so many different varieties of fish were on offer. Do you know how to say deep sea scallops in Russian, or back-translate into English? The Belorussian started off with a perfect creamy spinach soup containing arrugula and mussels (590 rubles). In my light “seaproduct” salad (650 rubles), flavored with the essence of lime, the clams and mussels were sparing, but delicious, and the lettuce overabundant – a dish perfect for a supermodel but which would enrage a hearty diner. For a main dish, I went with what I recognized, “jumbo shrimp” (250 g for 290 rubles): two impressive seven-inch prawns which, de-shelled, still had a good four inches of meat apiece. The Belorussian’s deep sea scallops (we finally agreed what they were) with veal kidneys, however, were sent by the Devil as mortal temptation — without a doubt, it’s a sin to eat cute baby lamb organs, but why do they taste so good? Having consumed only a handful of “seaproduct,” eight inches of shrimp and lightly-flavored lettuce, I was, for perhaps the first time in my non-extensive career in food criticism, eagerly awaiting my dessert at the end of the meal, the avocado mousse with marble chocolate (320 rubles). But, the dessert, while a novel experiment in taste, was half the size of my open mouth, so I drowned what remained of my appetite with wine — my own fault, I suppose, for ordering rabbit food. The Belorussian, again, chose better with the tiramisu (270 rubles), an ample portion for the money and, from the bites I stole when she was in the bathroom, no let-down in taste. (The bathrooms, I might add, smell exquisite. Hang a left at the snakeskin wardrobe). Seafood is a tricky business in land-locked Moscow, requiring a restaurant with the proper finances to step up to the challenge of flying it in then preparing it expertly. Bouillabaisse rises to such a challenge and, moreover, provides the whole package — fish, fashion and patronizing service — for a bargain price. As long as you don’t order the Bouillabaisse or drinks. |
