Appetizers for Dinner

All Small Plates at Petite Patate

I feel like I’m turning into a self-help guru when I talk about dining out because I’ll say something like “I don’t understand the ‘rules’ of going to a restaurant,” and emphatically do the hand signal for air quotes like I’m a Chris Farley character. But the thing is that I seriously don’t love the idea that you have to do dinner in some methodical order of one drink, starters, maybe another drink or some wine, mains, then a glance at the dessert menu and the inevitable “We’re OK. Just the check” or “Tell me more about the caramel apple pie” as if you don’t already know what it is. You’re just buying time to convince yourself the calories are worth it.

I understand a big part of it is I live in a big city where “the kitchen would rather you put in the entire order at once,” because tables are money, and me sitting on my ass just working my way through a bottle of wine until I’m ready to order more cuts into the profits and the lack of profits means that’s one less customer for the server to get tips from and for the ownership it’s a little more difficult to pay the astronomical rent. I get it. It’s a tough industry and I believe part of the dining experience should be the understanding that what you’re witnessing before your eyes is not just one, but a number of high-wire acts being performed and you should be respectful of that because I don’t know if you’ve heard, but it ain’t easy out there, my friends.

That’s why I liked Mason Yaki so much. It was the second spot on Vanderbilt Ave. opened by Greg Baxtrom after the success of Olmsted brought a new wave of interest to the street and a few other great spots opened up in its wake. Mason Yaki promised a fusion of French and Japanese, which worried me prior to trying it as the whole fusion thing can be an incredibly dicey game to start playing for a number of reasons. But it quickly became a favorite local for us. Personally, the beef tongue sando was a must for me. I knew nobody else was going to try it, so I’d happily eat my tongue between the perfectly-square toast and it would have been more than enough for me to walk away happy. But there was always just enough to nibble on after that if I was still hungry. The skewers always did the trick, but the cauliflower okonomiyaki was the real winner. You ordered that essentially as a main after a few meats on sticks and some drinks and you were good. Some people complained that it was a little pricey, but I personally always walked away feeling like I’d done things right. I was fully and, most importantly, I didn’t need to order a “main course.” The whole meal that I ate with my fingers was my main course, baby!

Mason Yaki recently closed. The reason I was given seemed plausible. Somebody that worked there told me that it just didn’t make financial sense to try and do what they were doing there and I’ve heard rumors they’ll reopen up somewhere else (TBD), but in the meantime, Baxtrom still has the lease on the space, and so he took the Bib Gourmand sticker off the door, changed the name, dropped the Japanese part of the menu, and now we get Petite Patate. From French-Japanese fusion to French bistro.

Emily and I went the other night and right away I found myself drawn to one section of the dinner menu over the other. The server did the whole shpiel about how they suggest getting a few plates and sharing and I almost did the “Say no more, my good sir” thing since that was exactly what we wanted to do. Emily and I looked it over and decided we were going to give the tuna crudo a roll, the duck liver pâté and even though we both agree that it’s usually a disappointing thing to order unless you’re absolutely hammered or at a state fair, we’d try the fried pickles.

Sorry. I meant the fried cornichons. I’m just a simple man.

The crudo isn’t pictured, but I was a very happy young man with that one. The tuna was nice and fresh, but it was the “French dressing” of Dijon mustard and pickles cornichons that made me go “Oh la la!” The pâté was whipped so much and was so fluffy and without any hint of grit that you can sometimes get in a terrine that I dare call it a “Starter pâté.” It’s something somebody who is on the fence when it comes to the dish could try and then they’d be hooked. That was nice, the crudo was excellent, and then there was the true test. The cornichons. Covered in tempura batter and served with a cute little jar of mustard, the preparation was the closest thing to something they may have served at Mason Yaki, but it was the first time I’d ever had a fried gherkin that was truly good. I don’t mean to say fried pickles are bad. I’ve had bad fried pickles, but more often than not I eat fried pickles and go “OK. You took something that’s great and did something great to it. Not that difficult,” but the ones at Petite Patate were just wonderful. I’d say less fried more cornichon. They retained the firmness and crunch that I often find missing when places try to fry something like a bread and butter pickle chip.

From there, I could have just kept drinking and been happy. We could have ordered some of the duck fat fried potatoes and it would have been more than enough. There’s also a French onion soup that I’m ashamed to say I did not try. Instead, we got a pot of mussels, a dish that has made the jump from the starter section to main in more places over the years, and we were more than good. So good, in fact, that we couldn’t finish the mussels. A strategic error since that’s not exactly a dish that travels well in a doggy bag. In my mind, we failed with that. It should have just been an all-starter evening, but something in my dumb American mind said “You gotta get a main.”

Ultimately, we could have gotten a main and maybe one or two starters and shared those. If there was a third or fourth person involved, then it’s a different story. Once you go beyond a pair (especially when that pair is a couple) then doing starters and mains makes more sense. But two people or even a solo diner should be able to order a drink (or two) and just apps and feel good about it, especially because I find that apps tend to be where restaurants shine the most these days. You can go anywhere and get a burger or chicken or whatever is on the main course list at wherever you are, and sure, places put their own spins on these things enough that can make them stand out. But I find that starters tend to be where chefs are a little more comfortable letting their freak flags fly.

The crudo at Petite Patate is a perfect example of that. If it was just me there by myself, that dish on its own, maybe with a side of the duck fat potatoes if I’m really hungry, that is a really good little meal. I tend to order crudo pretty often and when I try a crudo that’s a little different then I tend to remember it. I find that happening more often than not these days, the starters outshining the mains. I don’t know why exactly that is, but I say embrace it. Appetizers are part of dinner since they’re on the menu, so don’t be shy about making them the focus of the entire meal. Live that starter life, my friends.