One recent foggy night at the winning new La Silhouette, striped bass kissed by green spring- vegetable puree previewed the warm-weather bounty, while roasted chicken in wintry caper-olive jus seemed an homage to the post-Christmas deep freeze.
Both entrees were vividly realized: the pan-seared bass proudly astride peas, asparagus and mint, the bird perfectly attuned to woodsy tricolor potatoes and hen of the woods mushrooms. They could stand for La Silhouette’s position in today’s New York/French firmament: looking forward and backward simultaneously, wistfully referencing the past while fully embracing modern times.
Former Le Bernardin managers Tito Rahman and Sally Chironis launched the place three months ago in the face of an unforgiving economy — and common sense. The location’s neither convenient nor inconvenient enough to be edgy. Top-grade raw materials mean charging more than $30 for most entrees.
Yet it’s mostly full at night. The language of La Silhouette’s menu is English, but its spirit, if not all its substance, is French. The house has the je ne sais quoi, even if it’s the only place where I’ve ever been asked in a French accent if I was still “working” on my food. Work on that, Tito and Sally!
Four awkward little rooms are aligned railroad-style — the first, too near the door; the middle two, relatively cozy, with banquettes and a drop of color. The last and largest, down a few steps, is near-barren of décor, with a basement air.
Yet magic unspools nightly. The owners’ warmth infects the house, and many customers seem to know the staff. The scene buzzes with cheery restaurant-world gossip; those unfamiliar with the mystery of Chris Cannon, who shuttered Alto and Convivio two months ago and has not been heard from since, might almost feel left out.
There are grace notes, such as wonderful bread and bagel crisps served with boursin and duck rillette. But the main draw is executive chef David Malbequi, who commands the increasingly fluid boundary between updated French and modern-American.
Seasonally attuned but unafraid of butter, he has a flair for strong, yet not overwrought, composition. Roast chicken tasted as rich as coq au vin with only a drop of white wine. Honey- and carrot-glazed duck breast was sliced and presented in a neat row, bathed in jus and port red wine, ornamented with crispy black kale and accompanied by gizzard confit. Burgundy snail risotto made a pretty platform for hen of the woods mushrooms, parsley leaves and spring parsley sauce.
Malbequi’s skill with contemporary riffs was evident in porcini cappuccino, a lush veloute with cepes crostini and topped with shredded mushrooms on a long sliver of crisp toast. “Mixed baby lettuce” might be the city’s most modestly named dish — a green-market fantasia including carrot, pomegranate seeds, apple batonnet, beets and chives, given unity by Dijon mustard dressing.
Yet execution occasionally falters. Diver scallops were nicely caramelized but barely lukewarm. Striped bass was as wonderful on a second tasting as on the first, but barely half the size. An unfocused blur of tomato confit, Vidalia onions and other distractions got in the way of braised red snapper.
Desserts wobbled, too. Chocolate “mille crepes” with banana créme and banana rum ice cream were worth the trip alone, while dietetic-tasting “La Silhouette cheesecake” seemed a silhouette of the real thing.
Dinner is expensive: Starters are $12 to $24, entrees $27 to $39. (Lunch also offers sandwiches between $15 and 18.) For those prices, you can eat just as well at prettier places in better locations.
But La Silhouette reflects the resiliency of French dining: While some old favorites have closed, its enduring hold and adaptive reformulations thrive not only at the four-star heavyweights, but also at places as varied as Benoit, Millesime and Lyon. Welcome to the soirée.