A friend of mine who moved to England shortly after graduate school once
commented that as much as she liked living there, on occasion she missed the
conveniences of home. "There are nights when I wish we had a 24-hour market
nearby just so I could get some nachos," she told me shortly after the move.
"And I don't even eat nachos."
That was a decade ago, and things have changed. England, like much of the rest
of Europe, is becoming a seven-day-a-week, around- the-clock economy. For the
most part, that is. There are pockets where long lunches, late dinners and
lengthy holidays are still requirements of life.
France, for instance, still has something like six weeks of vacation a year,
including the entire month of August and two weeks around Christmas. It could be
argued that although we in the United States have picked up some better eating
habits from across the Atlantic, for the average American, time off like that
comes only with retirement.When European chefs make the crossing, they might bring finer ingredients,
prestigious training and a suitcase full of stinky cheeses, but they apparently
leave behind the relaxed work ethic. That's why no matter how good they are,
their restaurants could exist only in the United States.
It's the rare joint that has a laid-back European feel. When it happens, I
believe it must have something to do with time off. Which in turn must be one of
the factors that gives the 15-year-old Black Sheep Bistro in Tustin that
slower-paced, should-be-in- a-500-year-old-village vibe.
Owner-chef Rick Boufford and his wife, Diana, regularly close their restaurant
to give themselves and the staff a chance to revive their creative juices. They
close at Thanksgiving for a week, another week at Christmas and for a longer
time in the summer.
"I think it's why I've worked here for so long," our waiter says as he explains
the specials list. We're seated at a table in front of one of the light, airy
restaurant's wine "cellars." Which is in fact a box shaped like a refrigerator
that holds several hundred bottles of wine at a perfect temperature. This is a
wine-friendly restaurant with a list that reflects the chef's Mediterranean
influences, including a variety of Spanish wines well-suited to the meat-heavy
entrée choices.
We opt for a red Terrasola from the Jean Leon winery ($24). Its dark, rich blend
of Syrah and Cariñena grapes would go well not only with simple meat dishes but
with the chef's paellas as well.
The wine selections reflect the heavy Spanish presence on the menu - an aspect
that also makes this restaurant different from the French-centricity of most of
Orange County's high-end eateries.
Mussels dominate the appetizer portion of the menu. These shiny, black beauties
are offered Spanish-style with tomatoes, garlic and a pinch of saffron ($10).
Mussels Catalana ($10) have slices of potatoes and garlicky aioli. Italian
tastes, in the form of a light tomato marinara, and southern French Provencal
style complete the mussel offerings.
We start one night with mushrooms Jerez ($7) – a steaming mound of the meaty
fungi swimming in a broth that is unmistakably spiked with sweet sherry. The
perfume of the fortified Spanish wine even attracts a nonmushroom fan at the
table to dip his bread into the sauce more than once. We also opt for the
Spanish sausage selection ($12), a platter of three meats designed to feed two -
it's more than adequate for our party of four. It includes sturdy little
Cantimpalitos stuck into garlic mashed potatoes. I skip the potatoes, which are
dry this night, eating just the leathery little morsels that look like well-used
Boda bags. This night they share the plate with thin slices of prosciutto-like
Spanish ham and thick slices of salami. I alternate bites of the salty meats
with nibbles from the intoxicating olive mix delivered to our table when we sat
down.
Boufford is famous for his paella, the traditional Spanish rice dish. He serves
it three ways, topped with seafood, made with black rice, or seasoned with
pricey, hard-to-describe saffron. Each preparation requires a one-hour wait,
unless you call ahead, and is priced from $20 a person, two-person minimum.
The other specialty of the house is lamb. The menu has large California-raised
chops backed with herbs and garlic ($36). There are also dainty New Zealand baby
lamb chops served with a Tuscan tarragon and garlic sauce ($32). A rack of lamb
($32, or $24 for half a rack) is prepared perfectly to order with a light crust
of herbs and potatoes on the side.
If that's not enough, on the night we visit, one of the chef's specials is
Borrego Borrego Borrego, which is lamb three times for a dish that is lamb three
ways. The combination begins with a sweet onion hollowed out and filled with a
slow-cooked lamb stew. Inexplicably, the chunks of lamb, though flavorful, are
grainy. The filled onion is topped with thin slices of rare lamb loin and
circled with tiny lamb chops coated in rosemary, both of which are excellently
prepared. Boufford is also one of those chefs who makes his own duck confit, a
dish that requires time and duck fat, as the duck is preserved in its own fat.
He also serves duck breast covered in a sauce lightly flavored with honey
lavender. Both are also offered on a plate called Duck Heaven ($30). I love his
confit; the tender, rich meat is terrific with a small slice of crispy duck
skin.
More traditional American meat eaters will be attracted to the New York steak
Galicia ($32), an outstanding piece of beef topped with a surprisingly
weightless Cabrales blue cheese sauce. All entrées are offered with the house
salad, a mix of baby greens with a potent tarragon-flavored dressing; it is not
for the weak of taste bud. Or, for a few dollars more, the soup of the day is a
hearty choice, especially when the offering is robust lentil soup, a thick
potage with straightforward flavors and stand-your-spoon-up-in-it texture. For
those whose noses are attracted to the scent of ripening cheeses when passing
the cheese case, the cheese plate is the way to end a meal here. Boufford will
serve no cheese before its time, which explains why a wheel of still-firm
Epoisse waits happily in the deli case during the Thanksgiving holiday. "It will
be ready when we return," says the chef, handling the orange-tinged wheel as if
it were a precious gem. Triple cream Camembert, tangy Spanish Machego, a tart
fresh goat cheese and mellow St. Loup are included on the selection this night.
Unlike the French, who have strict though unwritten rules about proper cheese
etiquette, there are no rules here – select however many of the pungent wonders
look good to you and enjoy with or without a water cracker.
The best dessert is profiteroles ($7), ice cream-filled pastry puffs topped with
a dark, warm chocolate. I'm less impressed with Bliss ($7), a cream puff topped
with chocolate and a puddle of warm coffee. I don't like how the thin, dark
espresso makes the pastry puffs soggy.
Wandering out of The Black Sheep Bistro through the well-stocked market, I'm
once again taken with how European this place feels. Contrary to my expatriate
friend, when you eat this well, you shouldn't require midnight nachos.
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