the belly of the beast, pt. 2

Now, on to the food, already!

P: Walking into Beast, the interior is fantastically cool. The decor was like the kitchen we've always dreamed of - a little bit industrial, a little bit farmhouse, a little bit NoPo hipster. Beside a wall of blue tile, pots and pans were stacked on open metal post shelving with burners and ovens wedged within. All that separates the two spacious group tables (8-person and 16-person) from Pomeroy and her sous-chef is a large wooden butcher block island, upon which they do all of their preparations and platings. This space puts other "open kitchens" to shame - it feels more like sitting at a farmhouse table in the middle of a large country (albeit chic) kitchen.

Covering the full back wall of the restaurant is a blackboard of scribbled food quotes (from the anonymous "Praise the lard!" to De la Soul: "I've been know to sample soul food off the old school plates"), recipes (creme fraiche dough), lists of favorite local restaurants, phone numbers, and restaurant mile stones. It reads like a peek inside the inner workings of the chefs' minds. I think that the effect of restaurant's decor was best captured by what one of the gentlemen sitting at our table said to us. His fourth trip in as many weeks, he described his attitude toward the bistro as feeling like, "the 11th hour guest at a party full of strangers; you can come and enjoy your meal or you can reach across the table and meet someone new." While it isn't family style like some of Pomeroy's last ventures - the common menu and communal tables invite connections. It is an incredibly warm and casual place with just enough of an edge to draw the right mix of people for lovely conversations.

A: Before we dive into the food, we should mention that the service was the perfect compliment both to the warm and convivial atmosphere and to the perfectly synchronized meal. This, like the restaurant itself, is due to years of preparation. Our waiter, Daniel, has worked with Naomi for over ten years and is as much a part of this current project as she is. This experience makes him a friendly and attentive waiter, but also perfectly suited to the style of restaurant that Beast is trying to be.

Wait staff here (of which there are only two) are friendly in an extremely genuine way that I haven't experienced in other restaurants. Adding to the sense of eating in someone's home, both Daniel and Tracy spoke to us like friends, rather than customers. Upon first walking in, we immediately recognized Daniel and quickly realized that he had been working the Unearth dinner we had attended. Only after seeing him with Tracy did we realize that we had seen both of them somewhere else - the two had danced in "Ten Tiny Dances" for TBA 2007. In between courses, we talked about their choreography, TBA, and Daniel's experience working with food. Leaving Beast, we felt like we wanted to return just as much for the people as to taste a new menu.

But lest we bore you excessively with the background, onto the juicy (and salty, and richly buttery) details...

So the meal was five-courses. And to most, that would be enough. But at a place this fine, there's always a little something extra. The amuse bouche for our meal was a gougere - a rich, bread-pudding-like roll with a salty gruyere crust. Forgetting that after finishing these, we still had five courses to go, we each ate the entire thing, including any pesky crumbs that dared to clutter our plates.

P: When the first official course came, it was a steaming mug of French onion soup, which may well be my favorite soup. For some reason, A and I have gotten out of the habit of using beef stock when we make it and this bowl reminded us of why we that is an unforgivable concession to healthfulness. The broth tasted like the drippings from a perfect Sunday roast (or, at least, it would have if we hadn't scalded our mouths with the first bite [and the second and third]). It is just so classic, this dish, that you wouldn't want a single thing to be changed. I love the rich salty broth, A loves the way the gruyere leaves an impenetrably sticky coating on the spoon.

A: The second course was a Charcuterie plate with some old standards - country pate, chicken and duck liver mousse, cornichon, and stone-ground mustard - and some tasty standouts (new to us, at least) - steak tartare with a quail egg toast and some pickled vegetables that tasted distinctly indian (mustard seed, fenugreek and turmeric?). It was a nice, country-french addition to the hearty meal.


The main course for the evening was short ribs braised in armagnac prunes and aged balsamic vinegar with potatoes aligot and cabbage with bacon and shallots. meet fell off the bone, rich, dark sauce, potatoes were creamy and cheesy, like the potatoes at pied du cochon. I know P doesn't agree with me, but I think the short ribs were actually my least favorite part of the meal (which isn't to say they weren't tasty). I've strayed further and further from enjoying a cut of beef and, while the meat was cooked to perfection in a truly fantastic sauce (the armagnac prunes were a perfect, tangy accompaniment to the richly salty quality of the meat), I spent most of my time savoring the potatoes aligot. But seriously, who wouldn't? These potatoes were soooo creamy.

P: I wouldn't. I mean, I did, because the potatoes were good, but damn, those short ribs were tender and the armagnac/prune/aged balsamic combo was to-die-for. Only half-way through the courses, I mentioned to A how sick I was, and A, true to form, licked the sauce off her plate. "I feel like I could go for a run," she said. And then another course came to the table. A mache salad vermouth vinaigrette was paired with baby carrots and herbed creme fraiche. Tasting this dish, I felt like I'd taken the waters at Lourdes. Alone, it was an unremarkable dish, but it was such a contrast to the richness of the previous courses that it re-invigorated my appetite enough to fit in two more courses. It was clear that just like the competitive eater who falters on his 99th hot dog, I too had been a victim of flavor fatigue.

A cheese course of 4-year aged gouda, pink lady apples and pistachio shortbread followed the salad. While it was a pretty basic cheese pairing, the pistachio shortbreads were a nice buttery and nutty substitute for nuts. And when it comes down to it, I cannot get enough of that aged gouda - it has this rich caramel flavor and these great crunchy crystals in the shards, its like cheese candy. That has got to be my favorite cheese (Everything here seems to be P's favorite. I thought this was my birthday meal. -A).

Finally, out came the dessert: a lemon pudding cake with thyme tuille and soft vanilla whipped cream. For some reason we never order dishes like this in restaurants - we always gravitate towards the nut or chocolate desserts. But this cake was moist and topped by an incredibly light custard, like a softer lemon curd. Paired with the light herbal bite of the cookie, it could change our minds about lemon desserts.

On our way out, we noticed a copy of the Au Pied du Cochon album up on a shelf of other cookbooks and we immediately saw an affinity between the two restaurants. Both chefs take classic preparations and break them down into their comfort food basics, serving them in the atmosphere of a friend's home. We asked Naomi if she had been to Au Pied and told her of our recent trip to Montreal. She and her sous-chef's eyes widened and we left them scheming up a way to call a flight to Montreal a "business trip."

A: We think (know) we'll have to go back soon. Besides, the three-course meal for $32 a person, where you can share a charcuterie plate and a salad, and each get a first course, main course, and a choice of dessert or cheese plate, sounds like a pretty great week night deal to us. Maybe just about every night of the week. Anyway, we're pretty tired of cooking after that extravagant Thanksgiving meal we made. But that's a story for another day...