New York City will not be spared by French celebrations , and you should be getting ready for a weekend of wine tastings and pétanque tournaments in the five boroughs. Eager to help you get in touch with your French side, the New York Press has selected the best of Bastille Week for you.

by Laurent Berstecher

Thursday, July 12th

Pétanque Tournament @ Cercle Rouge

Tribeca’s French Bistro Cercle Rouge will be hosting its 3rd annual pétanque tournament on Thursday. Ricard-based cocktails will also be served, achieving to give Tribeca a definite Marseille feel for the afternoon.

Cercle Rouge, 241 West Broadway, New York, (212) 226-6252
www.cerclerougeresto.com
10am- 8pm

Bastille Day Ball @ The Club 404

The Committee of French-Speaking Societies (CAFUSA) organizes its yearly Bastille Day Ball, under the umbrella of the French Consulate and NYC’s Mayor’s Office. This year’s edition will feature a live orchestra, as well as French singer Floanne and French Dj Super Jamie. $30 GA tickets are available, but a $120 VIP ticket will grant you access to a gourmet French buffet and a 4 hours open bar.

The Club 404, 404 10th Avenue
www.bastilledayball.org

Saturday, July 14th

Bastille Day Brunch @ Brasserie Beaumarchais

French food, wine, cocktails and pétanque on the patio  are coming to Le Meatpacking district on Saturday, with music by Dj Marco Peruzzi. Yes, he is Italian, but we are told he started his music career in the South of France.

Brasserie Beaumarchais, 409 West 13th Street, 212-675-2400
www.brasseriebeaumarchais.com

Bastille Day Party @ Flute Midtown

The chic and lounge Flute Bar celebrates Bastille Day with hors d’oeuvres, kir and champagne happy hours and live French music. RSVPs for the door list are however unfortunately sold sold.

Flute Midtown, 205 West 54th St, 212-265-5169
www.flutebar.com
5 – 10pm

Bastille Festival 2012 @ Times Square

This year’s edition of the Bastille Festival in Times Square will take place in the Times Square Novotel and feature over 12 hours of live music by 5 bands, as well as a sculpture exhibition by French artist Pierre-Henri Guérard. Resident DJ Maklen will also be there to make sure that the Novotel’s rooftop keeps shaking until 3am, closing time.

Novotel Hotel – Sky Deck Terrace – 226 W 52nd Street
http://www.frenchcultureguide.com/french-culture-nights-new-york/
3pm – 3am

Bastille Day Party in New Jersey @ Van Vleck House & Gardens

French style celebrations will spread all the way to New Jersey with a Bastille Day Party hosted by the French Institute Alliance Francaise (FIAF.) The party will of course feature French Wine and Food, French live band Les Chauds Lapins, and, last but not least, a raffle with a variety of cool French stuff to be won.

21 Van Vleck Street, Montclair, NJ 07042.
7:30-10:30 pm

Sunday, July 15th

10th Anniversary Pétanque Tournament @ Bar Tabac, Cobble Hills

Not even Brooklyn is spared by Bastille Day as French bistros Bar Tabac and Provence en Boite host their 10th annual pétanque tournament on Saturday, the largest in North America. Go watch over 80 teams from around the world play it out in Smith Street, while enjoying French music, food and drinks throughout the day.

Smith St between Bergen and Pacific Sts, Cobble Hill, Brooklyn
www.bartabacny.com
11am – 10pm

Bastille Day on 60th Street

On Sunday, 60th Street will be taken over by over 25,000 Franco-friendly visitors for a day of festivities and celebrating of French culture. Hosted by the French Institute Alliance Francaise (FIAF), this is the largest celebration of Bastille Day in the U.S. Events will include French food sampling by some of the finest French restaurants in NYC, live French Can-can performances, free French language workshops, a Kid’s Corner featuring French-oriented activities and games, street mime and accordeon, an old Citroen car show, and of course some more wine, cheese and pétanque.

60th Street between 5th Ave and Lexington
http://www.bastilledayny.com/
Noon – 5pm

By Leonora Desar

What have I gotten myself into this time? I wonder silently.

I am wearing a blindfold—pardon me, a fancy eye mask called a “Mindfold”—that makes me look like Cyclops from the movie X-Men. My hands rest lightly on the slender shoulders of a dancer/embodier—more on that later—who is guiding me to the restroom before the evening’s festivities begin. She tells me I may remove the mindfold once I am inside the restroom, but I must put it back on immediately afterward so I don’t to see my surroundings.

No, I am not a Skull and Bones novitiate preparing for my big initiation. It’s Thursday evening and I am at Camaje Bistro and Lounge in Greenwich Village, where I will soon, according to Camaje’s website, be whisked off to “a romantic, intriguing innerspace.” I, who have problems not spilling wine and sauce on myself under the best of circumstances, am about to eat a mysterious, French-inspired four-course meal in the dark, the contents of which won’t be revealed to me until the very end of the evening.

“We could have just blindfolded ourselves and eaten at home,” whispers my husband Lucien when I am led safely back outside the restaurant. While we wait with a feisty Russian family and another couple, he shows me a cartoon that he has scribbled of me in my X-Men mask. I scowl at him, unamused. “Just give it a chance!” I hiss.

Dana Salisbury, the creator and director of Dark Dining Projects, emerges from Camaje, her short hair gleaming a bright burgundy underneath the street lights. She gives us the drill.

“These events are not about blindness, they’re about celebrating all of the other senses. You know, like, we’re three-dimensional but we live in a very two-dimensional world… So tonight is part dinner party and part event. Dark dining is all about slowing down. Enjoying yourself. Toasting each other. Feeding each other…”

Feeding each other? How are we supposed to do that?

I am about to find out.

“OK, so does everybody have an item in their hand?”

I am now sitting inside Camaje. My hands successfully grasp what feels like a piece of bread, filling me with a sense of accomplishment that is soon dashed by the cold water that I’ve just spilled on my lap. As I said, I was never a very graceful eater.

“OK,” Salisbury resumes, her voice floating somewhere in the dark. “So what we’re going to do is on the count of three—don’t do it, I’m just demonstrating verbally—one, two, three crunch! And what that’s going to do is help create a sound snapshot. It should be able to give you a sense of the size of the room and where the other people are sitting in relationship to you. Are you ready?”

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Wow, I had never realized just how loud food could be.

It turns out that I never realized a lot of things. Like, for instance, how much I really enjoy white wine (if that is in fact what I’m drinking—I can’t be absolutely certain with the mindfold on). The more I drink of it the more I realize how much I also really like salad, which (I believe) has now arrived as the first course.

“But you’ve never been crazy about salad before,” Lucien reminds me. “You must be enjoying it because your other senses are heightened with the mindfold on.”

I am not so sure about that, actually. Without any visual cues to alert me to what I’m eating, it’s more like I am being tricked into getting past my own preconceived notions of what I think I like or dislike.

In any case, the next course has now arrived and I am pretty sure it’s salmon, which I always tend to like a lot. Unfortunately, though, it’s hard to eat without a knife and I, in my infinite clumsiness, would never dare to attempt it while still wearing my Cyclops mask.

So I do the unthinkable. I pick up a piece of it with my hand. I mean, no one’s looking, right?

Not necessarily.

You see, the thing is that even though the patrons can’t see one another, our hosts—who include Salisbury, Camaje’s owner and chef Abigail Hitchcock, the dancer/embodiers (trained dancers who have “a good feel for how to be embodied and how to help other people feel embodied,” according to Salisbury) and God knows who else—definitely can.

“I feel like we’re in a fish bowl,” Lucien whispers. “It’s like we’re on display and everyone can hear everything we’re talking about.”

“You’re being paranoid—we would know if someone was nearby,” I say.

“More water?” a voice suddenly asks us, just inches away.

“Now I feel paranoid,” I whisper to Lucien when I think we are alone again.

“So, now that the wolf is no longer at the door, we’re going to take about 10 minutes to just luxuriate in sound while the kitchen works on the main course,” Salisbury says. “I give you Kamala.”

I am wondering who the wolf is and why he’s no longer here when an operatic, ethereal voice pierces the room accompanied by (what sounds like) an accordion. It’s like being serenaded at a renaissance faire by a very vocal woodland nymph—if woodland nymphs played the accordion, which I am not sure they do.

“Ahhhhh,” sings the nymph.

Suddenly, feminine hands begin to caress—yes, caress—my bare arms. This must be what I get for wearing a sleeveless dress.

Then the music stops. The hands do too.

“Did someone just feel us up?” Lucien asks.

The real fun, however, begins after the third course.

“Because we are so few we have a luxury tonight, which is that we can get people up dancing if they’d like,” Salisbury says. “What we’ll do is we’ll come help you stand if you wish.”

“We’re not standing. We’re staying…right?” Lucien pleads.

Wrong.

Salisbury’s somehow familiar, feminine hands lead Lucien and I to the dance floor. Kamala, the woodland nymph, is playing her accordion again with a vengeance. This time the mood is what I would expect to find if I stumbled into a tavern in Transylvania.

Hands clap. The accordion picks up the pace.

“I’m dancing with some pretty woman!” a female voice cries out in a thick Russian accent.

“See, this isn’t so bad,” I tease Lucien. Soon enough we are guided back to our seats.

“You’re so quiet,” Lucien says after a few minutes have passed.

It’s true. I’m all talked out. It’s one thing to sit for two hours with someone and fill in the silences with eye contact, but it’s quite another to have to rely entirely on words. Let’s just say I feel grateful that I’m not on a first date. I mean, talk about the potential for uncomfortable silences.

Even feeding each other—which Lucien and I do awkwardly under Salisbury’s tutelage — is not enough to add romantic flavor to an otherwise flavorful meal.

“Ouch! You almost poked my eyes out with your fork,” Lucien complains. “Thank God for the protection of that mindfold thing.”

Chop, chop.

“So now we’ve come to the dénouement of the evening,” Salisbury says. She introduces Hitchcock, who at last reveals the menu.

“I can’t believe that wasn’t salmon!” I exclaim.

“I can’t believe I just ate lavender ice cream,” Lucien says.

Finally we are led out by someone who sounds a lot like the dancer/embodier from earlier in the evening. She warns us to remove our eye masks slowly and only when we arrive outside the restaurant.

“You mean we won’t get to see what the set-up looks like without the mindfold?” I ask.

“You’ll have to come back another day,” she says with a smile.

The question is, will we?

“The food was great,” I say to Lucien as we walk down the street.

“But it was $120. Each!” he reminds me.

“Even the mindfolds were $12 if we wanted to keep them.”

“I think it was worth it—for a one-time experience,” I rejoin. “I wasn’t exactly transported to ‘innerspace,’ but it did kind of feel like we were in Eastern Europe for a while.”Another thought suddenly occurs to me.

“Hey, you know what? When we get home, let’s see if we can buy a mindfold cheap on eBay.”

Camaje Bistro and Lounge, 85 MacDougal St. (betw. Bleecker & Houston Sts.), 212-673-8184; for a schedule of dark dining events, visit www.camaje.com/specialevents.html.

Diners nosh in blindness at Camaje Bistro and Lounge in Greenwich Village.
Photo courtesy of Dark Dining Projects

By Megan McGibney

It is said the world’s three greatest cuisines are French, Chinese and Turkish. While Downtown has plenty of the first two, it could use more of the latter.

Luckily, Soho is set to get a Turkish eatery of its very own Nov. 15, when the Midtown hotspot Pera Mediterranean Brasserie opens its Downtown version: Pera SoHo. The award-winning restaurant known for its elegant décor and softly lit dining rooms intends to provide this fashion-centric district with some of Turkey’s finest cultural dishes.

“I think it’s proven to be a great concept,” said owner Burak Karacam of his eateries. “Whether it’s the décor or the music that’s soft to people’s ears, it’s a very refreshing take on eastern Mediterranean and Turkish cuisine.”

Karacam hails from the country’s capitol, and the restaurants derive their name from one of Istanbul’s more eclectic neighborhoods. Since the 17th century, the place has been home to many non-Islamic cultures, including Italian, Greek, Jewish, Armenian and French. It was in Pera that these groups resided and set up their businesses, and it is at Karacam’s restaurants that a blend of eastern Mediterranean cuisine comes to life.

Pera’s menu mainly consists of Mediterranean staples like olive oil, zucchini, eggplant, beans, seafood and lamb. Dessert fans may mourn the lack of cake, but will rejoice at Pera’s selection of puddings and baklava.

Pera SoHo,designed by DYAMI architects with décor overseen by Karacam himself, will include a lounge area up front with a doorway leading to a garden, which will be open to patrons beginning in April. In addition, during the warmer months, private parties can go to the rooftop and watch the sun set before going downstairs to sup in a dining room that can seat 105. Karacam chose 54 Thompson Pl. for Pera SoHo because of the lack of neighboring tall buildings and the chance to be on the cutting edge of dining habits.

“I think Soho is making a comeback in terms of dining,” he said.

When it comes to making Pera SoHo different from its Midtown relative, Karacam is contemplating whether to make a quarter or a third of its menu different. The Downtown kitchen will be headed by the Turkish/American duo of Metin Calisir and Nathan Crouser.

As for the possibility of more Peras, Karacam said, “It’s not something we are against, but currently the focus is on getting this one up and running and reaching its potential.” After that, Karacam will look around for a new place for New Yorkers to experience one of the world’s greatest cuisines.

Istanbul native Burak Karacam in front of his yet to be opened Pera SoHo. phOTO BY Megan McGibney. Pera’s Downtown location will be similar to its uptown haunt, located on Madison Avenue. PHOTO courtsey of Pera Mediterranean Brasserie

“I like to treat my customers like they are guests in my own home,” explains Annick La Douarane, owner of the quarter-century-old bistro. With daughters, nephews, cousins and in-laws on staff, the place probably does feel like home to her.

Though the patterned carpet and bland furniture suggests boring banquet hall rather than cozy dining room, sunlit oil paintings of the southern French landscape, courtesy of La Douarane’s best friend Danielle Ruperti, add an authentic flair to the two-story space. Better yet is the bilingual service, an aspect of the experience that my mom, New York Francophile that she is, received with glee.

La Mirabelle’s sunlit oil paintings of the southern French landscape are the work of Danielle Ruperti, owner Annick La Douarane’s best friend. Photo by Andrew Schwartz

The occasion for our visit was actually my 25th birthday, which put me a good three-and-a-half decades below the average diner’s age. It came as no surprise then that the filet mignon, the plat du jour, was already gone at a quarter to eight. (Seating seems to follow the time schedule of a South Florida retirement community.) Nonetheless, the ample menu boasts so many alluring French favorites that it took two baskets worth of baguettes before we could reach a consensus on what not to order.

The chance to indulge in organ meats galore led us toward the foie de volailles (chicken livers sautéed in shallots and raspberry vinegar, $7), which were too well done for Dad’s taste, but whose characteristic dirtiness on the tongue swiftly disappeared amidst the vibrant berry sauce. The paté de campagne (country paté, $9.50) was appropriately unrefined and called for liberal mustard baths before the salty punch of the accompanying cornichons. But both were outdone by the famously ubiquitous soupe a l’oignon gratinée (onion soup, $7.50), here sweetly perfected to the point where leaving even a drop is not an option.

With stomachs awaiting the meat of the meal, our first bottle of 2004 Médoc from Chateau Greysac did not stay full for long. Ready right when the cork comes out and good at any point during the night, this elegant yet easy Left Bank Bordeaux is a well-priced ($34) option on a French-Californian list that nudges north of $200 at its upper end. Another full glass readied me for the arriving canard rôti (duckling with mirabelle plums, $25), a signature dish that lives up to the billing. It’s a hefty portion of dark meat ringed with crispy fat that sits in a fruity pool of gravy, thanks to the namesake yellow plum, la mirabelle.

Only next to the ris de veau (sweetbreads with lemon and capers, $25) did the duck not stand out. This glandular treat was warm and fuzzy, rich yet mild so that the capers couldn’t hide. In another world altogether was the delicate but forceful foie de veau (calf’s liver, $21.50), which begins to disintegrate in your mouth just when you think it won’t. Even the buttery vegetable cubes and broccoli-infused mashed potatoes found on most dishes added flavor to the mix.

Clean plates were accompanied by clean tables—we had the balcony to ourselves by the time we dug into the crème brûlée ($7), one of the best I’ve ever had. Its stained glass caramel crust covered the heavenly custard within, which, like the onion soup, left no trace of itself after being attacked by five spoons. Only the charming rendition of “bon anniversaire” sung by our waitress remained, ringing in my ears.

Even at the end of the night, Annick, the seemingly tireless matron, engages each of us in conversation and bids us all adieu. Oui madame, merci beaucoup.
–
La Mirabelle
102 W. 86th St., near Columbus Avenue
212-496-0458
Entrees: $18.50 to $35

After all that time, it seemed fair to wonder if it could still open with a bang. Ultimately, though, the waiting just seemed to whet Upper West Siders’ appetites. The place has been fairly packed since starting service on Oct. 31.

Tom Valenti said he wanted to open a restaurant where diners could order a hamburger. Photo By: Andrew Schwartz

“The neighborhood seems to respond well so far,” Valenti said. “The motivation behind this place when I first committed pen to paper almost three years ago was just to bring another moderately priced eatery into the neighborhood. Something that was just a little more accessible and more user-friendly.”

The unstated comparison, one implied by The West Branch’s name, is to Ouest, Valenti’s flagship restaurant located several blocks north on Broadway. When Ouest opened in 2001, it was roundly acclaimed and hailed for bringing “fine dining” to the Upper West Side, a reaction a bit overdone but one that undoubtedly galvanized other restaurateurs.

The results are evident: new eateries are popping up like crazy. One need only look at Valenti’s new neighbors. On the north side of 77th Street opposite The West Branch, Vai has become a surprise hit since opening this past summer. Next door on Broadway, Fatty Crab, an outpost of a downtown Malaysian restaurant, is getting ready to welcome diners.

“We certainly have the audience,” Valenti said. “That’s tried and true if you look at all the restaurants that have opened in the past few years. Most of them are doing well.”

The West Branch shares Ouest’s focus on Valenti’s brand of unfussy French cooking. Sample entrees include pan roasted trout, duck confit and gnocchi with braised veal breast.

“The food is decidedly more bistro in feel,” Valenti said. “We wanted to capture all the things you might want to eat, and that runs the gamut from foie gras to calves’ liver to oysters to pastas to roast chicken. Ouest has a more composed approach. I think we have more of a fine dining profile there, whereas this is a little simpler in format. You can’t get a burger at Ouest, but you can get a burger here.”

The long-haired, soft-voiced Valenti doesn’t conform to the stereotype of the modern celebrity chef. That’s partly because he has hesitated so far to expand wildly like the other big names in the New York restaurant scene. After Ouest, he opened ’Cesca, an Italian restaurant, on 75th Street and Amsterdam Avenue in 2003. It was a success, but Valenti refused to open a spin-off outpost in Atlantic City and eventually split with his business partners, handing over control of ’Cesca.

Now The West Branch has brought him back to two eateries. It’s hardly a dining empire, but it is one with a notable profile and influence on the neighborhood.
“I would jump on a plane tomorrow and go someplace else if I felt that this market was exhausted,” Valenti said. “But why leave home if you don’t have to?”

Bobo has a certain hominess, with brac-a-brac strewn about and books in honeycomb cubbyholes.

Mixologist Naren Young pours some very unusual flavors and blends out of his cocktail shaker, like the “Breakfast Margarita,” so named for the marmalade and grapefruit salt that tart up the usual mix of tequila, Grand Marnier and lime juice. Even better is the Ritz, a heady and fizzy blend of cognac, Cointreau, maraschino, lemon juice and soda served straight up in a martini glass. In another homey touch, the largely French wine list is printed inside vinyl LP sleeves; ours was the cast recording of Drood.
Chef Connolly often gives his traditional French techniques a light Asian accent. Thus, he sears a scallop à point and plates it with cubed bacon and shiso (Japanese basil).
A crab cake is sweet and happy with its cashew butter. The occasional caper awakens the palate, but in the end the mix was a bit too lemony.
Entrée portions are just right—not too little, not too much. The ribeye is a chunky hunk of boneless slow-roasted beef brimming with flavor, served on a bed of crunchy carrot and turnip slivers with silky potato puree on the side.
The Muscovy duck was a bit chewy, but we ordered it rare, and it would have been a bit more tender if it had been cooked medium-rare. Our fault. A tangy mélange of chorizo, parsnips and hazelnuts finished the plate.
Pastry chef Jennifer Domanski is more than up to the task of following all this eclectic lusciousness. Her pear tart is crunchy, warm and buttery under a melting scoop of pear sorbet. And her five-layer chocolate cake finds the perfect foil in salted toffee and one of the most irresistible ingredients in the dessert world: dulce de leche. The diverse flavors commingle to make this one of the most consistently interesting chocolate cakes I’ve ever tasted.
With its elegant townhouse setting, ubiquitous candles, intimate seating and soft edges everywhere, Bobo would be a great date place—well, for date number three.
–
Bobo
181 W. 10th St.
At Seventh Avenue
212-488-2626
Entrées: $18 to $30
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tom@hugeflavors.com