Boston's love affair with French food is still torrid.
Diners continue to queue up for the locavore inventiveness of Craigie on Main,
the regional sublimity of La Voile, and the modern-brasserie conviviality of
Gaslight. Even in a down economy, bistros like Petit Robert, Sel de la Terre,
and Aquitaine are expanding to the suburbs. With all these sexy newcomers, it's
easy to forget an old standby like Les Zygomates (129 South
Street, Boston, 617.542.5108), a French bistro and wine bar that has quietly
persevered in the Leather District for 15 years. Perhaps "quietly" isn't quite
apt: Les Zyg still features live jazz six nights a week. (In true Parisian
fashion, it's closed Sundays.)
Further, it offers enviable amenities, notably an impressive wine
list with 60 wines available by the bottle, glass, or taste, plus another 60
reserve bottles. Considering its focus on wine, the bar turns out very
creditable classic cocktails, too. A recently added raw bar offers local and
imported raw oysters and clams, cooked crustaceans, and scallop ceviche. A
quiet second dining room serves patrons who prefer intimate conversation to
live music. Meanwhile, in a city where entertainment and good food almost never
appear in tandem, executive chef John Paine brings considerable quiet craft to
a menu that hews closely to the French bistro canon.
For instance, there's not a whiff of fusion or flash in his
frisée salad ($9): it's barely dressed with red-wine vinaigrette, loaded with
firm, smoky lardons of cured pork belly, and topped with a properly poached
egg. It's merely about as simple and perfect as a salad can be. Likewise, his
grilled smoked pork chop ($25) is another wonder of understatement. A thick
bone-in chop is cold-smoked (at under 100ºF) over applewood, a process that
imparts a fine, insistent smokiness but doesn't cook the meat; Paine finishes
it by grilling it medium-rare with a light char. A rich reduction sauce adds a
layer of intensity to this juicy, oversized chop. Grilled asparagus and an
Alsatian-leaning warm salad of red Bliss potatoes provide hearty, rustic
accompaniment. It isn't ostentatiously plated, doesn't boast any particularly
elaborate technique, and isn't festooned with exotic or luxurious ingredients.
It's just a quietly thrilling reminder of why Bostonians fell so hard for this
kind of unfussy, heartwarming French fare in the first place. In short, Les
Zygomates is one old flame you should consider looking up again.
