Classic French cuisine has come to New York’s Lower East Side from an American, via Paris. Daniel Rose, whose Spring restaurant has wooed hard-to-impress Parisians, has opened Le Coucou, and it, in turn, has New Yorkers clambering to get into what is arguably the hottest restaurant in town. And unlike others that have held that title in the past (think Per Se), Le Coucou is worth it.
Rose has partnered with Stephen Starr, whose group of Starr Restaurants dominate the Philadelphia dining scene. (You can read about some of them here.)
Le Coucou, designed by Manhattan’s Roman and Williams, is rustically elegant. High ceilings with no effort to hide the beams or ductwork and brick walls, not to mention an open kitchen, are offset by tables lavishly draped with white linens. And each table is graced by a single, slender and tall tapered candle.
The menu is unapologetically ultra French. Even in a city full of diners who would categorize themselves as adventurous, veal head isn’t found on many menus, even with its more lyrical name, Tête de Veau. The meat, which was boiled from the calf’s head, was fashioned into the small disk and fried, then plated with a sort of egg salad seasoned with chervil and tarragon and draped with an anchovy.
My companion ordered the Ris de Veau from nearby within the calf. The sweetbreads were tender and gamey and made more delicious with the crème de tomate that the server ladled over them.
That was followed by Tout le Lapin, or all of the rabbit, but of course not all. But enough of it to make this a dish I would gladly revisit. It included the saddle, wrapped with liver and kidneys and roasted and sliced, served with a vinaigrette made from offal and jus. The forelegs were braised slowly in broth, a double stock that included simmering the bones. The hind legs were were roasted and served with Dijon mustard and onions. I was told that some regulars come in just for containers of the broth to take home.
My Bourride included a black bass fillet served separately from the stew, which had clams, mussels and a giant prawn. The aioli was served separately to blend into the fumet, in a large copper pot, at will.
A simple serving of cheese was all we needed for dessert, but we appreciated the strong coffee from the heavy press pots.
Service was consummately professional but not stuffy or officious. It was refreshing to visit a popular restaurant and find that the staff didn’t feel the need to put on airs. (See previous reference to Per Se.)
Le Coucou is at 138 Lafayette St., New York.
