There was a moment in our meal at Flamant when, suddenly, everything made sense. It came after several starters. The herb-crusted potato cakes looked so much like scallops—did we actually order these, we asked? And then there were the Maryland Blue crab rolls. We knew we had ordered those, but as we consulted the menu, we wondered, what was that unexpected floral flavor? Oh, it was a splash of gin mixed with Old Bay and ketchup in the dipping sauce.

Despite our ongoing confusion, clarity came just as our server put down a plate of what was listed as “Peas-Shrimp” on the menu, which he’d described as “salad,” but, in reality, looked nothing like any greens we’d seen. “You’re never going to get what you expect here,” our server explained. Strangely, this helped clear up the confusion.

Indeed, this “salad,” an edible homage to spring, featured a custard-like pea jelly (peas mixed with gelatin) ringed by pickled shrimp, whole snap peas, red shiso micro greens, and a warm, still-runny poached egg, which lent a silken texture. It was beautiful and delicious, which is pretty much all you need to know.

Everything about Flamant (the French word for “flaming,” a nod to the fireplace in one of the dramatic dining rooms), situated along West Annapolis Street in a quaint, 65-seat cedar bungalow, takes you by surprise, including the structure itself. The restaurant is not what you might expect in this suburban stretch of Anne Arundel County, where chains and nautically themed restaurants rule. On the site of a former children’s clothing store, Flamant has been transformed into a stylish dining den, with its sculptural mid-century Cherner chairs, black flatware, light woods, blue Spanish floor tiles, and airy, light-filled rooms.

Owner-chef Frederik De Pue hails from Flanders, Belgium, and honed his culinary craft working with Michelin-starred chefs including Alain Ducasse in Monte Carlo and Alain Chapel in Lyon, France. After coming stateside, he owned several restaurants in D.C., then opened this seasonally driven, chef-forward spot in the spring of 2017.

The peas-shrimp starter; the dining room. -Kate Grewal

The dinner menu, with ingredients sourced from local farms and fishermen, is concise (a sure sign that all ingredients are up-to-the-minute fresh—pulled from the sea and just arrived from field and farm), with six mains and about the same number of shareable snacks and starters. De Pue’s dishes—innovative, flavorful, even celestial—are unlike anything you’ll find on other area menus.

“Good food is the foundation of genuine happiness,” the top of the menu reads. When you’re quoting the father of modern French cooking, Auguste Escoffier, the bar is automatically set high.

Fortunately, De Pue delivers.

Flamant features classic, but edgy, European fare. His presentations are always artistic, which is not surprising given that De Pue draws his dishes on paper when he is developing recipes to help him visualize not only what’s on the plate, but what flavors his combinations will yield.

Among the appetizers, something that might appear as charcuterie or a cheese plate on any other menu is listed as ricotta-feta custard here and turns up as crisp prosciutto “cups” served with a dollop of house-made ricotta and feta cheese and ripe cherry tomatoes exploding with flavor. A bowl of mussels swimming in white wine broth appears as if it rolled through a tangle of seaweed—actually threads of leeks and rosemary sprigs—on its way up the beach.

Entrees are equally appealing, both visually and from the standpoint of flavor. Among the most noteworthy on our visit was the luxurious riff on a burger. De Pue’s version is a slightly sweet duck confit patty blanketed by the pungent addition of orange-blue cheese sauce. A slice of green tomato and arugula add, respectively, tangy and nutty notes. As with most of the menu, no detail is missed. De Pue pan sears the potato bun with butter and then steams it, which helps all of the ingredients stick together, thus ensuring perfection in every bite. The tarragon chicken schnitzel—thinly sliced cutlets stuffed with capers, parsley, lemon zest, breadcrumbs, and almonds and paired with potatoes and mushroom mousseline—is a delightfully deconstructed take on a German classic.

Even if you don’t usually indulge, hold out for dessert. The turnover-shaped seasonal doughnuts, more like Belgian beignets, can count as a fruit serving here.

Ours were stuffed with local strawberries and rhubarb and accompanied by a dollop of house-made fromage blanc gelato, a satisfying way to end the meal. After cleaning the plate, we settled our check and headed out into the night, feeling fortified—genuinely happy, even. Somewhere, Escoffier is smiling.

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FLAMANT 17 Annapolis St., 410-267-0274. HOURS: Tues.-Fri. 11:30 a.m.-2 p.m., 4:30 p.m.-10 p.m., Sat. 4:30 p.m.-10 p.m. PRICES: Snacks and appetizers: $9-20; mains: $20-35; desserts: $9-11. AMBIANCE: Cottage chic.

On an early spring evening, Steve Monnier inspects a plate of poulet roit au foin—whole chicken roasted in hay and glazed with honey-brandy sauce—while a pastry chef at the pass pipes cream in between fine layers of puff pastry to build a Napoleon, and a line cook oversees the asador, where quail gets grilled above the sparkling embers of the wood fire. 

This is the scene at Chez Hugo Bistro, Monnier’s downtown dining follow-up to Hampden’s Arômes, where the focus was solely a pre-fixe tasting menu. In a sea of sameness, it was a unique restaurant concept at the time, but not everyone in Baltimore was ready for a menu in which the chef did all the deciding. So Monnier heard the people’s cri de coeur and closed his boîte at the end of last year to work on this new concept. If my first few visits are any indication, it was a bonne idée, indeed.

At Hugo, Monnier is cooking not only what he wants to cook, but also what others expect of traditional French bistro food. For daring foodies, there’s still a tasting menu (six to 10 courses for $85/per person), but Hugo’s main menu features a greatest hits of French-country cuisine—from pâte en croute to coq au vin and moules frites. And unlike the sometimes experimental Arômes, which often highlighted avant-garde ingredients such as lime ash and dehydrated scallops, the fare, although still fanciful (to wit, beets with wild rose vinaigrette and sour plums), needs little to no translation.

Also, while Arômes’ environs were the cramped quarters of a Hampden row house, Hugo—named for Monnier’s 4-year-old son and on the site of the former Baltimore International College—has no such issues. Inside this historic building (originally a Methodist Episcopal Church, long before becoming the local culinary arts college), there’s a roomy bar for sipping an effervescent French 75 and a tony dining room with tufted, mustard-colored banquettes, cabaret chairs, French blue walls, mosaic tile floors, and original carved wood moldings. (Think Bordeaux meets Baltimore.)

Monnier, who hails from Reims in the Champagne region of France and worked in the kitchens of several Michelin-starred spots (Le Carré des Feuillants, Le Laurent, Taillevent), is able to showcase his culinary talents here. Of course, many fine-dining chefs have been classically trained in the Escoffier school of cooking, but there’s something about having an actual French chef at the helm that creates a kind of culinary verité.

While our trips to the table were beset by some minor missteps (on one outing, ours was among the first tables seated on a Saturday night, and already the kitchen was out of whole chickens), there were remarkably few for a restaurant in its first semester. On our dinner visits, servers were relaxed and gave good recommendations, including one for the soupe à l’oignon et son toast with sweet charred onions and croutons nestled under a cap of melted gruyère and a beef broth that takes two days to prepare. There was also a ringing endorsement for a simple salad of grilled carrots tossed with tangy grapefruit sections, fennel, and frisée. The citrus of the grapefruit offset the natural sweetness of the charred carrots, and the fennel added a nice crunch. 

On our first visit, the most outstanding entrée was the beef bourguignon, a masterpiece in composition with thick hunks of braised beef short rib on a plate punctuated by carrots, pearl onions, button mushrooms, and two thick slices of bread for mopping up the Bordelaise sauce. It was rich and comforting and a paragon of French home-style cooking. 

There are also nightly specials, including a lobster salad special for two. The $70 price tag was a bit steep, but the portion was large, and the preparation, employing brown butter and curry and placed on a bed of frisée along with a Japanese sweet potato, beautifully showcased the shellfish.    

But the pièce de résistance, and the reason for our return visit, was the aforementioned roasted chicken for two. It has long been said that the true test of a chef is his or her chicken. Nowhere is this truer than at Hugo, where a pasture-raised whole bird is roasted at high heat, then deglazed with white wine, cream and chicken stock. As we waited the requisite 45 minutes it took to prepare, the anticipation, and hunger, mounted. And when a fleet of servers arrived with the fragrant and flavorful chicken neatly sliced in a skillet and served alongside roasted broccoli and potatoes—plus au jus on the side to amp up the succulence and a small salad verte on the side—we ate with abandon.  

Though you’re likely to feel sated even without dessert, remember The French Diet (red wine, butter, chocolate). Consider the macaron au chocolat with chocolate ganache or the crème brûlée with its professionally caramelized crust and just the right level of vanilla swirled into buttercup yellow custard. The Paris-Brest, a donut doppelganger made with choux pastry and filled with praline cream, is equally divine. For next time—and there will be a next time—our sights are set on that Napoleon.

CHEZ HUGO BISTRO: 206 E. Redwood St., 443-438-3002. HOURS: Mon. 11 a.m.-2 p.m. Tues. Thurs. 11 a.m.-2 p.m., 5-9:30 p.m.; Fri. 11 a.m.-2 p.m., 5-10 p.m. Sat. 5-10 p.m. PRICES: appetizers: $7-25; entrees: $23-32, plates for two: $50-75. AMBIANCE: French bistro. 

Matthew Oetting was initially hired by the Atlas Restaurant Group to oversee the kitchen at Bygone, but first worked as executive chef at the group’s Loch Bar for two years, while waiting for the fine-dining restaurant to open at the top of the Four Seasons. With the recent restaurant debut, Oetting, who came to Baltimore from kitchens in Miami (Scarpetta) and New York (Telepan, The Modern), talks nouvelle cuisine, vintage menus, and the local restaurant scene.
 

I know you did a lot of research as you were conceptualizing and creating Bgyone’s menu. What was your process?
When I was doing research, I was having a hard time finding menus from the mid-19th century. I reached out to the research librarian at [my alma mater] Arizona State University and he put me in contact with a colleague named Chris, who specializes in culinary history—he was an amazing resource. He started sending me menus from the period. The first few that he sent were from the ’20s, ’30 and ’40s— he ambiance of The Great Gatsby was the era they were going shooting for when they were conceptualizing Bygone.

But the menus that came through were extremely bare bones. In the era of the ’20s, ’30s, and ’40s, the menus aren’t all that impressive, not many had composed dishes with the protein, the starch, the vegetables, the sauce all on one plate. It was all very broken up—there was the vegetable section, there was the potato section, the chop section, and the seafood sections. Some of these menus had 15 different sections on one page. Chris said to me, ‘You have to remember what was happening in history at that time—they were just coming out of the Depression and then World War II. People weren’t spending money in late ’20s, early ’30s and through the war.’ Eating out wasn’t really a focal point. 

So how did you arrive at this particular menu full of French-inspired classics?

Chris said, ‘If you want to look at menus from the ’50 and ’60s, you’ll see something a lot different, so he started sending menus from that era, and they were incredibly impressive. It was the dawn of nouvelle cuisine, and chefs started putting together composed plates. People were going to restaurants after World War II and had money to spend—that’s where the inspiration for the menu started to take shape. I had 40 menus in these huge, three-ring binders that I used as a basis for the Bygone menu. 

You’ve said that this is the food that speaks to your heart and soul. Can you elaborate?

A lot of the preparations are very home-style. Cooking dishes like whole roasted duck and chicken and roasted brisket come from the heart. A lot of the dishes have long preparations that take two, three, four, five, six days. Preparing these kinds of dishes gives me a warm feeling. Being able to transform it for the modern palate is what I’m about.  

Are there any menus in particular that spoke to you?

One of my favorites was The Golden Lion in Seattle. It had a lobster section like we do at Bygone, it had frog’s legs and crab legs and medallions of veal Oscar, and all of these great classic preparations. I was also inspired by menus at The Oak Room in the Plaza Hotel in New York. I collected menus from the Beverly Hill Hotel menu in 1956 and the 21 Club’s 1961 menu.
The food from this particular period was flexible.   

There’s a lot of nostalgia here for an older crowd, but there are younger people for whom this will be new. Do you hear that from customers?

Yes, there are a lot of millennials coming in, and I think they like the throwback—they recognize that it’s a throwback, but don’t know what it’s a throwback to.
 

Did you draw on any other inspirations for the menu?

New Orleans at that time, and still somewhat today, was a culinary mecca. French Creole cooking was extremely popular at the time. I put Creole snapper blackened and served with crawfish étouffée and dishes like Cajun fried cauliflower on the menu as an homage.  

If you’re a chef, even if you’re opening a New American spot or a steakhouse, you need classical training. Why is that?

It’s the foundation of everything you do modernly. How could you know how to make Hollandaise foam if you can’t make Hollandaise? How could you know how to make a preparation using Bordelaise sauce, if you don’t know how to make Bordelaise sauce? That’s what makes Bygone so cool. It takes dishes like tuna ravigote and vichyssoise and brings them back to the forefront. These are dishes that people have forgotten about for 50 years—now they are new and exciting again. Without the understanding of what nouvelle cuisine was at that time, we wouldn’t be anywhere. Paul Bocuse just passed away and his impact on the culinary community was huge. Without him, we wouldn’t know how to make some of the things that we have today or have some of the chefs that we have today.  

These dishes are really complicated—it’s not like working somewhere where you’re just flipping burgers on the grill. Has that made it hard to find people to cook?

We’ve had a lot of cooks come through, and I’ve had to let a lot go. I’ve had to say, ‘Listen, I’m sorry, it’s not that you’re not a good cook or can’t cook, it’s just that you’re not ready for this particular kitchen.’ This is high end—you have to be very skilled and have a very strong foundation to know what you’re doing here.   

When you get out to eat, where do you like to go?

I just went to Alma Cocina Latina. One of my cooks works as a sous chef there. I went there and had great arepas. La Cuchara is really great. I also like McFaul’s IronHorse Tavern near my house—there’s always good food and everyone needs a local spot.
 

How have you seen the culinary community change since you moved here?

I’ve seen the culinary community change in the two years since I’ve moved here. I see our community of chefs getting bigger and more prestigious. I don’t know what my direct impact on that is, but it’s a great feeling to know that you’re in a blossoming community.  

What’s the most valuable piece of advice you ever got from a mentor?

When I asked to move from my externship as garde manger to a paid line cook at the pasta station at Union Square Cafe, Chef de Cuisine Sandro Romano at told me, ‘You don’t become an astronaut overnight.’

One evening after local developer Scott Helm finished a meal at Arômes in Hampden, he put in a request to speak with the chef.
 

“Our server Gilles [Mascarell] came back to the kitchen and asked me to come out and talk with him,” recalls chef Steve Monnier. “And I was just like, ‘It’s Saturday night, I don’t have time.’” 

Little did Monnier know, Helm was looking for someone to head up a new restaurant at a historic property that he had acquired downtown. Luckily, Helm came back for another meal with his family soon after.
  

“He was like, ‘Do you have time now?’” Monnier recalls, with a laugh. “We talked about it, and I came out to see the space and fell in love.”
 

Monnier closed Arômes in November to fully focus his energy on the new project, Chez Hugo, which is named after Monnier’s son and makes its official debut next week (reservations are full for opening night on Saturday, but the spot will reopen for dinner service Tuesday) inside the historic Merchants Club building at 206 E. Redwood Street downtown.
 

The building neighbors the Chesapeake Shakespeare Company, where Helm sits on the board. Monnier is looking forward to providing a pre-show dinner spot for theater-goers, as well as partnering with the troupe for special events—like a kids’ tea party that will precede an April performance of Alice in Wonderland.  

The property’s early 20th-century roots shine through in the bistro’s layout, which preserves touches like dark wood moldings and vintage sliding doors. But designer Matthew Compton of local firm Foundry Architects had his work cut out for him when transforming the space—which was most recently used by Baltimore International College—into a full-fledged restaurant.  

Compton, whose work is also showcased at Parts & Labor and Belvedere Square Market, added elements like an open kitchen with a wood-burning hearth oven, private tasting room, main dining area with marble tabletops and yellow banquettes, and custom-made floor tiles to evoke a classic bistro feel. The 4,000-square-foot space can accommodate 60 people, with an additional 15 seats at the front bar.  

Though Monnier says that the bigger space provides an opportunity to continue his commitment to local sourcing (he frequently works with Monkton’s Karma Farm), the experimental dishes that he became known for at Arômes will no longer be the focus at Chez Hugo. Instead, he is taking a classic approach to bistro fare.  

“It’s a continuation,” he says. “With Arômes, it made me realize that you cook for the people of the city, you don’t cook for yourself. Here, I want to make sure I don’t scare people. I want to go classic first, and then evolve later.”  

In the kitchen, Monnier, along with chef de cuisine Jeff Schultz, will take inspiration from many different French regions and rotate dishes seasonally. The opening menu, which includes a daily plat du jour, features takes on classics such as escargots with butter and parsley, grilled hanger steak frites, winter squash wrapped in brioche, foie gras terrine, and duck pithivier—which Monnier describes as a savory King Cake. In-house pastry chef Theresa Louis will craft desserts like chestnut mousse with an almond macaron and maraschino caramel.  

“Yeah, you’re going to find things like onion soup,” Monnier says. “But food is like fashion—it evolves. With French cuisine, we’re reinterpreting things all the time.”  

Accompanying the food will be a bar program led by beverage director Adam Litchfield, a 15-year industry veteran who followed Monnier from Arômes. The bar is equipped with four taps, two of which will be devoted to regional beers from Oliver Brewing Company and Right Proper Brewing. The others will either be rotating local varieties, or French brews.  

The cocktail menu will also reflect the theme, incorporating French spirits like pastis and chartreuse. One of Litchfield’s signature drinks, “Rimbaud’s Vice,” is named after famed poet Arthur Rimbaud from Reims—the same region as Monnier—who “was legendary for sitting around drinking absinthe in the middle of the afternoon,” Litchfield says.  

Of course, Litchfield’s wine list has a French slant, but also includes approachable picks.  

“Some people just want to come in and drink a California cab,” he says. “We want to make sure everyone feels welcome. Generally, there is this perception that French food is stuffy and fancy. We really want to emphasize that everyone who walks through the door is going to have a great meal.”  

Above all, the staff stresses how important it is for the space to be inviting.  

“There are no VIPs,” adds general manager Chad Gentile. “If a couple saves for an entire year to come out for one dinner, it should be just as extravagant as if the President of the United States comes.”