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CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA BOUCHON
Much of my enjoyment was due to the atmosphere; and much of the atmosphere was due to the owner, Mitchell Sjerven. Mr Sjerven is, I would judge, one of Nature’s restaurateurs. Affable, articulate and hard-working, he seemed to be here, there and everywhere in his two, softly-lit dining rooms. From the second he greeted me at the door (“Ah, you must be Mr Bown, because you have a walking-stick umbrella”), until the moment he waved me out with a cheery ‘Goodbye’, I had the feeling that everything was safe and well under his genial direction. He showed me to a large table with a white tablecloth. The modern chair was upright, which was good for my back, and the wine glasses were a mixture of Riedel and Spiegelau, which was good for the wine. Modern paintings adorned the walls. At the end of the room was a counter, beyond which was the kitchen. From here the waiters, in blue shirts and white aprons (mine was David), rushed to and fro with dishes to keep the diners happy. And happy they seemed to be. The rooms were full, the conversation flowed and I had the real impression that the enjoyment level was high. I was certainly enjoying myself, not least because of the quality of the food. Chef Josh Brown has been at the stoves here since 2000, two years after the restaurant opened. His guiding principle is that his ingredients should be as fresh and as local as possible. Consequently, he is a devoted customer of Santa Barbara’s famous Farmers’ Market. My palate bore witness to his success in putting this principle into practice. Pan-seared foie gras came with grilled peach, Banyuls, toasted brioche and a fig-balsamic drizzle. Here, as throughout my dishes, there was real intelligence at work, both in the conception and in the execution. The combination of tastes was brilliant, with each element contributing to the success of the whole. This was the star of the meal. Still, my salad was nearly as good: roasted beets, baby carrots, crushed almonds, sweet onion, goat’s cheese, oregano vinaigrette and basil pesto. There was here something of a revelation for me: I am a devoted lover of beetroot, but I had no idea it went so well with pesto. For my meat course, I had tasty rack of venison – with a brioche and Dijon mustard crust, served with butternut squash risotto, sautéed green beans, toasted hazelnuts and a cherry and port demi-glace. I finished with a straightforward crème brûlée. I thought $66 for these four courses was good value. The local theme is continued in the wine list. (Bouchon, in French, means – as you will know – wine cork.) Apart from a few interesting exceptions (like a selection of ports – a glass of 1980 Graham’s is $27•50), the offerings are from California’s Central Coast – from Monterey in the north to Ojai, just south of Santa Barbara. It was fascinating to see so many wines I did not know, with 30 syrahs and 37 pinot noirs from this interesting area. Prices begin at $30 (for a Monterey sangiovese) and go up to $120 (for a pinot noir from the Santa Rita Hills), so you will not break the bank with your drinking. But you will probably drink very well. I did. Mr Sjerven recommended two bottles of very high quality. The 2004 Ojai chardonnay (Clos Pepe Vineyard, Santa Rita - $80) was big, with some toast and sherbet, but was beautifully balanced, with exactly the right level of acidity to ensure its elegance. And the 2004 Foxten pinot noir (Julia’s Vineyard, Santa Maria - $90) could have been a fine French burgundy, for it was earthy and full of delicious red fruit. These wines were two more reasons for me to be grateful to le patron. I left Bouchon a very happy fellow. I shall very much look forward to my return. After all – apart from in matters sartorial – I can be as friendly and informal as the next man.
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© Francis Bown 2003
I am sometimes accused of liking only restaurants of the grand and formal sort. It is true that I love formality and grandeur. Yet I also take a proper delight in those dining rooms which match good food and fine wine with friendly informality. When visiting such eateries, I do not, of course, dress in an informal manner – for to do so would be to break the habit of a lifetime and would make me feel distinctly uncomfortable. I have therefore spent many pleasurable hours, eating and drinking at establishments which are unused to the suit and the stiff collar. And seldom has such pleasure been as intense as it was recently at a wonderful restaurant in Santa Barbara. Truly, Bouchon was my sort of place.