The outside of the restaurant, with its infamous red awning, appears to be an almost modern, stripped down version of the one in Paris. This one has a revolving door which, when you think about it, may serve as a genius form of crowd control. The lines to get into this eatery in Paris can serpentine down the street.

Inside you are met with the sounds of bustling white/black uniformed waitresses, clinking of glasses, and the soft ting of metal platters. We were seated within 3 minutes due to the fact that we were a party of 2. However, the group of 6 young men who were waiting before us, seemed quite happy to chat in the entry way. Once seated, you can take in the white walls, dark wooden accents, and well, the “not-quite-on-par-with-Michelangelo” wall murals. There was a lovely glow due to the serving stations dotted throughout with candles to keep the food just hot enough before it hits the plate.

We are greeted by a surprisingly pleasant, Spanish speaking waitress. If you had time to look around, you would notice some blond, polished French waitresses with pursed lips. There is a menu, but it lists desserts and wines only. With great anticipation and recollection, I see our waitperson reach for her black sharpie. She draws a hard line in the middle of the table, in the same fashion as sports commentary guys do when going over a play in football. She asks “How do you want your steak ?” Before you can squeak out one word, she proceeds, “We do it four ways: blue, rare, medium, or well done.” Two “R”s for rare get scrawled on either side of the line. I had to chuckle when the gentleman next to us ordered “medium-well.” They don’t do that. He decided at that very moment, he was a fan of well-done.

In about five minutes, the mixed green (really seemed to be romaine) salad with a hefty pinch of chopped walnuts dressed with a straightforward mustard vinaigrette, appears in front, along with a small plate consisting of about 6 pieces of sliced baguette. The salad was cool, not ice cold nor warm. Just the right amount of dressing. I would recommend not to ask for butter or ketchup. O o o la la la, no.

After looking at the wine list, ranging from $20-$40 per bottle, we settled on the house wine, a Bordeaux which was about $21. It was a typical house wine, not very bold, but went down quite easily, and was a lovely cranberry color that I would love to find in a nail polish.

As soon as you put your fork down, your salad plates disappear in a black and white blur. According to the adjacent table, you could get seconds on the salad for an additional fee. This gentleman seemed to be asking all the wrong questions. Finally, the moment I’ve been drooling about, has come. My dinner companion, who has not experienced L’Entrecote in Paris, was probably thinking I was on the level of “spaz.” I eyed the waitress as she deftly worked at our serving station. First, the sliced steak in a fan shape, next “the sauce”, followed by a pile of crispy golden fries. As it is placed in front of me, I notice that the pieces of steak are a bit different than I remember. I worry. These are not long, thin pieces, but rather square and a little bigger than a matchbook square. Very tender and tasty, it’s the same!!! Let me say, rare is rare. The sauce, the most crucial component and a well kept secret, was correct! We, who are in the know, know that one of the best parts of the meal is to drag your fries through the sauce in an embarrassing, liberating way, and for me there is never enough sauce. Once you’ve managed to not shovel your food down as if you haven’t eaten in a week, in comes the second helping. They do tell you from the get go that it comes with two servings, which kills the surprise factor for the uninitiated diner. Bummer, that is always fun to watch. Tip: Mention to your waitress that your dinner companion loves fries, she practically piled on the whole platter which ends up teetering on the small dinner plate. The portions are typically just right, you feel satisfied but not the discomfort that follows a Thanksgiving dinner.

Happily you discover that you have room for the “I’ll just have a couple of bites” dessert. The dessert menu consisted of the typical French crème brulees, tulips, sorbets and ice creams. But the only thing, in my opinion, that matters on the list, and the reason I don’t quite remember the other offerings are the Porfiteroles. Underlined in red, along with a few other house specialty desserts, it seemed to leap from the laminated menu. And they did not disappoint, they were just like Paris. After trying porfiteroles in several lovely French restaurants around the City, these porfiteroles remain the high water mark, the ones to beat.

My mother asked me to write a quick comment on my dinner experience, however, there is just too much to be said in recommending L’Entrecote. So, if you happen to be in Manhattan, have $24 dollars in your pocket plus a little extra for that glass of wine, and you dream of a return trip to Paris…this L’Entrecote and it’s sauce will transport you. It is all about the sauce!

Le Relias de Venise L’Entrecote, Lexington and 52nd Street, NYC. Prix Fixe $24.00, sorry no reservations.
http://www.yelp.com/biz/le-relais-de-venise-lentrecote-new-york

Wai-ling

Elsie