French food – Baltimore Magazine

Movie Review: The Taste of Things

Max Weiss — Mon, 19 Feb 2024 22:47:11 +0000

Lately, there has been much talk of “love languages,” the preferred ways that people give and receive love. In Tràn Anh Hùng’s sublime The Taste of Things, the preparation of food is the ultimate love language—an act of service that is also a deeply sensual pleasure that requires dedication and precision while simultaneously reminding us of the bittersweet, ephemeral nature of life.

The film is largely set on a manor in the French countryside, sometime in the late 19th century. Dodin (Benoît Magimel) is the master of the house—and a noted chef and gourmand himself. Eugénie is his cook—and lover. (Add a thief and a wife and we’d have a Peter Greenaway film.) They share an all-consuming passion for food and a love of being in the kitchen. This being the 19^th century, everything in that kitchen is sturdy, made of cast iron or wood—the kitchen is filled with wonderful sounds of chopping and simmering and clanging (as well as outdoor birdsong and a persistently meowing cat). Eugénie, in particular, also loves spending time in the garden, pulling up cabbages and radishes and herbs that she will include in the day’s meals.

The film starts with a nearly 40-minute scene of the preparation of one of those meals—and if you don’t like seeing animal flesh being gutted, stuffed, plucked, and tied, you’ve come to the wrong movie. Most of the finished food in the film looks divine—you’ll be craving baked Alaska, roasted veal, skate floating in cream and butter, and whatever that puff pastry masterpiece was—but Tràn gets into the visceral nature of the preparation, too. The kitchen scenes are not for the squeamish.

But to Dodin and Eugénie, these are the tools of their art and how they communicate their love. Yes, they are in love, but not married—her call, not his. She likes the current arrangement. She is happiest when making a meal plan, cooking with and for him, and leaving her door open, sometimes, for him to join her in bed at night. But she values her alone time and, in a strange way, also values the clear lines of employee/employer between them, even if those lines have been blurred over the years.

That meal they’re preparing at the film’s start is for Dodin’s best friends, a group of wealthy men, like him, in their 50s and 60s, who are epicureans. They don’t just eat the food Eugénie has prepared for them, they savor it—first inhaling its smells, then slowly swirling and chewing and swallowing it until they slump back into their chairs with a contented sigh. Wine from Dodin’s cellar is the drink of choice, naturellement, but they also enjoy cognac and a post-meal pipe. Eugénie never joins them, even though they protest. She prefers to be in the kitchen.

The men are kind and joyful and loving. This isn’t a film about the callousness of the rich—quite the contrary. There is a real fellowship among these best friends. They are fiercely loyal to the better things in life—and to each other.

The day of the party, the manor’s young housekeeper brings her even younger cousin, who it turns out is a bit of a prodigy. She has a remarkable palate for someone her age. At one point, Dodin tests her by feeding her a complex sauce and she matter-of-factly rattles off its ingredients. Later, she is so overcome with emotion by the taste of that baked Alaska, she says she might cry. That emotion is not just an ineffable expression of love, but perhaps the sense that the moment of eating it has now come and gone—a Proustian nostalgia for the present. Dodin and Eugénie decide they want to make her their apprentice.

The Taste of Things is not just a sensual experience for the characters, but for the viewer as well. And it goes beyond the food. The pastoral manor is bathed in a golden light that changes with the seasons and humming with activity—it comes alive for us; we feel as though we’ve stepped into a Renoir. And Tràn has an interest in all aspects of the flesh—at one point, he cuts from a perfectly shaped pear to Eugénie in repose on her bed, her naked form mimicking the curves of the fruit.

At 59, Juliette Binoche is as beautiful as ever—and cinephiles will know that she and co-star Magimel fell in love 20 years ago on set and even have a child together. (They broke up several years ago.) It adds a bit of subtext and meta poignancy, if you will, to the film. Dodin and Eugénie have grown old together, and familiar, but that makes their love stronger. At one point, Dodin attends a fussy luncheon thrown by a prince. The food is ridiculously ornate and busy and there’s far too much of it. But Dodin knows better. Like food, the best things in life are slowly nurtured, loved, and perfected over time.

The Taste of Things is now playing at The Charles.

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Review: Duck Duck Goose

Jess Mayhugh — Thu, 01 Nov 2018 08:30:00 +0000

Whether it’s paintings, fashion, gilded palaces, leggy women, or chiseled men, the French harbor an unapologetic appreciation for physical beauty. This is also the case when it comes to their food. Stylish plating is an art in and of itself in the world of French cuisine, an aesthetic Ashish Alfred has embraced at his fabulous new Fells Point brasserie, Duck Duck Goose.

Crab imperial with dark paddlefish caviar is served in a crab-shaped dish on black rocks in a white bowl. Plump scallops glisten atop a bright green mélange of Israeli couscous, parsnip purée, and apples. A streak of beet purée provides a striking stripe on a plate of roasted duck. Each dish is bursting with color, and most taste as good as they look.

The South Broadway restaurant is the second outpost of a concept that’s actually more broadly continental than strictly French. The first opened in Bethesda in 2016, and after a quick glance at the menu, we worried that it might not translate from the posh Montgomery County suburb to a neighborhood whose culinary sensibilities are a bit more casual. But those fears were eased the moment we walked in.

Housed in the former home of the late meatball eatery 8 Ball, Duck Duck Goose offers a sophisticated take on European cuisine without the accompanying pretense. While the layout is relatively unchanged—there’s an L-shaped bar, large common counter and lounge area in the main room, and a smattering of tables in the adjacent dining room—the décor is decidedly more fowl. Murals of geese dot the walls, and wooden ducks sit docilely behind the bar. Although he’s classically trained, having studied at the International Culinary Center in Manhattan, Alfred (who prefers to be called “Al”) doesn’t want the atmosphere to be stuffy. Hence, the eclectic selection of rather loud music, ranging from jazz to pop to club, playing on the nights we visited.

Honey-roasted duck and crab imperial with paddlefish caviar. —Kate Grewal

Wearing a backward baseball hat, and with an easygoing manner, our bartender, Tim, added to the casual vibe. On both our visits, he took great time and care preparing our cocktails, all of which are cleverly conceived—and named. The Duck L’Orange, made with bourbon, Grand Marnier, and maple simple syrup, packs a punch, yet goes down smooth. Le Vie en Rose (“life through rose-colored glasses”) combines vodka, raspberry liquor, lemon, and champagne for a not-too-sweet thirst-quenching treat. While we waited for our food, Tim gave us a sample of the restaurant’s house-infused banana Jameson, served on the rocks. It’s surprisingly bite-free and would make for a good before- or after-dinner drink.

The menu, divided into six smalls, four shares, and seven mains, can be intimidating to those unfamiliar with French fare, yet Alfred’s preparation makes the food we tried extremely accessible. We started with the roasted Japanese eggplant, a long strip of the vegetable topped with lemon yogurt, pistachios, and peppers that add a spicy kick. No disrespect to what followed, but it might have been the tastiest dish of the night. The cauliflower steak, a mixture of charred, puréed, and pickled forms of the veggie, offered a panoply of colors and flavors.

Surpassing our sky-high expectations, the honey-roasted duck was among the best we’ve ever had. A tender breast, cut into two tender strips and cooked medium-rare, was rich and only enhanced by the cherry reduction and glazed beets. Tournedos, a center-cut filet topped with foie gras in a red wine jus, was prepared medium-rare at our server’s suggestion. It emerged from the kitchen more rare than medium, the perfect preparation for such a high-quality piece of meat. Halibut, four pieces each wrapped in puff pastry, was perhaps the most inventive dish we tried, and while it was certainly good, the fish was a bit overpowered by the breading.

The best entrée we ate—shockingly—was one we rarely order at restaurants: the roasted chicken. But Alfred’s version, inspired by and named for Marc Forgione of Iron Chef, is impossibly juicy. Served with spicy broccolini, confit potatoes, and charred lemon, it’s worth every cent of its $24 cost.

There will be some who are scared off by Duck Duck Goose’s seemingly exotic menu or high pricing structure. To unadventurous eaters, we say there’s no need to order bone marrow or the Cote de Boeuf—a $95, 36-ounce bone-in ribeye for two. Simple dishes such as risotto, filet, and, of course, chicken are as pleasing to the palate as they are to the eye. At Duck Duck Goose, that’s saying a lot.

DUCK DUCK GOOSE 814 S. Broadway, Fells Point, 443-869-2129. HOURS Brunch: Sat.-Sun. 11 a.m.-3 p.m.; dinner: Tues.-Sun. 5-10 p.m.; bar: Tues.-Sun. 4 p.m.-1 a.m. PRICES Appetizers: $6-21; small plates: $13-16; entrees: $18-95. AMBIANCE Hunt country chic.

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Chef Ashish Alfred Bringing Duck Duck Goose to Fells Point Next Month

Ellina Buettner — Thu, 03 May 2018 13:27:00 +0000

Bethesda native Ashish Alfred, who prefers to be called “Al,” began his culinary career in his 20s as a way to turn from an addiction issue and start fresh.

When the opportunity to attend International Culinary Center in Manhattan presented itself, the guy who had no interest in food—aside from watching old Julia Child episodes as a kid—took advantage of his new beginning and came back to Maryland four years later with a chef title, experience in big-name restaurants, and a passion to start his very own kitchen in his hometown.

So he established Duck Duck Goose in a little corner space in downtown Bethesda in 2016—which was modeled after the restaurants he frequented in Soho and West Village. After two years of success, he’s decided to open a second location in Fells Point next month.

“The whole thing kind of just happened by accident really,” Alfred said. “I’m not one of those people who was like, ‘Oh my gosh, I always wanted to be a chef.’ That just wasn’t the case. I tell people a lot that it found me, and I just suck less at cooking than I do at everything else.”

Taking over the former home of 8 Ball Bar & Grill (which closed its doors on South Broadway last month), the French brasserie will feature an open concept with plenty of tables, a wall mural, and an exhibition kitchen so that diners can see what’s going on from the front of the house to the back. Alfred is particularly excited about the patio the location offers, which will provide the restaurant with a quieter and more intimate nook for customers to enjoy.

“A lot of those places, and the people, down there have been there for a really long time,” Alfred said. “I really just want it to be a place that becomes part of that community and synonymous with a night out in Baltimore.”

Although Duck Duck Goose focuses on fancy French fare—including ratatouille, branzino, and honey roasted duck— Alfred is adamant about keeping the ambiance casual and fun. He assures that the music will always be a little bit too loud, the servers will be in baseball caps, and the bar will be open for the nightlife crowd. However, he still values the finer approach to dining and plans to preserve that element within the restaurant.

“We are a French restaurant that doesn’t take ourselves too seriously,” he said. “You can walk into Duck Duck Goose and grab a couple appetizers and a cocktail, but you can also walk in and get foie gras.”

Aside from a few staples offered year-round—including Alfred’s Chicken Forgione with spicy broccolini and charred lemon, which he discovered in New York—all of the restaurant’s plates are seasonal and ever-changing. Alfred particularly prides himself in Duck Duck Goose’s fresh pasta program, a feature that he is eager to share with his customers.

“Yes it’s French, but we like pasta, so we’re going to do what we want to,” he said. “At the end of the day, I’m a chef. I’ll walk in one day with 25 pounds of halibut and be like, ‘Hey this is going to be on the menu tonight.’”

Alfred does not want the new location to be a carbon copy of the original in Bethesda, but instead, wants it to be tailored to the Baltimore community. He moved to Canton last year in an effort to weave himself into the fabric of the city, and since then, he’s been able to connect with the neighborhood personally. His goal is to oversee daily operations now and in the years to come.

“My plan is not to be one of these chefs that opens a place up, hangs out for a couple of weeks, and rolls out after he hires 10 other people to be there,” he said. “I want to be close to it. Fells Point is such a lovely community of incredible people that both live and work there, and if I didn’t love it before, I absolutely 100 percent am in love with it now.”

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