The most misused and abused word in the restaurant business these days is probably “bistro,” successor to its distant Italian cousin “trattoria.” Everything from Greek-owned coffee shops to pretentious spaghetti joints call themselves bistros, and some California and New York chefs–perhaps at the suggestion of their marketing consultants–have even laid claim to creating the “true” American bistro.
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Bistro cooking is simpler than that of the grand restaurant, but more elaborate and varied than at a cafe or brasserie. It features traditional or updated versions of provincial classics–from ragouts and cassoulets to simply sauced roasts and grills to the perennial steak and french fries. Since definitions are often made clearer by their exceptions, I must also note that I’ve paid more than a hundred bucks a person in a couple of Paris bistros (worth every sou), been in one that looked like a Helmut Jahn fantasy, visited several run as sidelines by some of France’s most celebrated haute chefs, and devoured a couple of complex constructions that might have come from the kitchen of Le Francais. About the only unifying factor was the bar up front.
But until recently I’ve been hard-pressed to find anything I’d call a genuine American bistro. That is, a place that marries a bistro’s ambience with a culinary style rooted in contemporary American cuisine. The Marc and Relish come close, but their food is a bit too fanciful. Zinfandel, like a suspect patriot, tries too hard to proclaim its Americanness on paper while it misses on the platter.
Similar items, such as skirt steak and lemony spinach, appear on the menu of Erwin, named for chef-owner Erwin Drechsler, who has been plugging away for more than a decade and began to hit his stride at the recently closed Metropolis 1800. The new joint has a more authentic bistro ambience, though its main room is a bit noisy and some waitpersons are too aggressively perky.
