Bouchon Almost Gone Wrong

Bouchon
The Venetian

It was headed for disaster, and I’m not exaggerating. This place almost garnered a bona fide “Eh,” with the hand-yaw gesture to punctuate that sentiment. However, Bouchon took a full shot at redemption and mostly pulled it off. Seriously though, for a restaurant that can only be accessed by a dedicated elevator, I expected more at the end of the ride than what we got.

The management of the Venetian has marketed Bouchon ambiguously. It is listed on the website under fine dining, but in Zagats, Fodors and Open Table present it as an upscale casual French Bistro. To be fair, it presents itself as a French bistro, not haute cuisine, so to analyze from the perspective of a Michelin five star writeup would be overkill.

But, and I say this with all deliberate criticism, even the most cut-rate, back alley bistro should be able to produce a competant onion soup. Bouchon's sucked, I can’t express it more delicately without losing the sense draining disappointment I felt bring me down. I'm going to get this over with so I can focus on the positive, because overall, the food was good.

The onion soup was served in a delicate ceramic bowl, not a hearty crock. The second failed element was the cheese and soup were tepid. So, two things comspired to create a dissappointing and dangerous method for eating soup. Serving French onion soup in a delicate bowl became problematic when trying to eat the cheese, because it takes a certain measure of force to cut cheese with a spoon when it has cooled. Pushing a spoon against the side of a crock won’t damage the bowl, and I feel reasonably safe doing it. Trying that same method on something thinner and more delicate unnerves me, because at any minute I expect the thing to shatter, spraying me with lukewarm cheese, onions and soggy baguette.

Safety issues aside, when cheese re-cools, it becomes tough, rubbery and flavorless, like chewing on a ball of caulk. That was a nice touch, being tasteless, because then the cheese did not compete with the soup, which had less flavor than an ice cube. It was so weak my roll got up from its side dish and beat the crap out of it. This faint mirage tasted like they boiled onion powder in brown water for about 20 minutes and indifferently threw fried onions from a can as an afterthought.

You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Why not just flag down the waiter and explain the problem. Delicately. Without acrimony, to avoid spitting in the new one.” I would have done that, and in the reserved manner you suggested, but we didn't see our waiter for about 15 minutes, so it would have sounded like this:

"How is your soup?"

"I don’t want to make a huge deal out of this, but, frankly, mine's cold, and I had to gnaw on the cheese for a while because it was rubbery like stale Hubba Bubba."

"Well, of course, it's been sitting in front of you for 15 minutes, you need to eat soup as soon as it arrives."

"No it was cold when I got it."

"Would you like me to bring you another bowl?"

And if I say yes, it will arrive at the same time as the entree, or they will have already made my entree and it will sit under a heat lamp until I choke down the next bowl they give me because it takes 10 minutes to make and 10 minutes to eat. And it's scalding hot this time because they want to make sure they get it right. No, no, there's no point in complaining about the soup.

Now, for the positive.

First, the bread is good.

It comes hard and crispy, with a nice springy texture in the center. It looks braided as they put it on the table, but it is actually individual rolls bound together. Each bun was tapered at the end, resulting in a slightly browned tip that had a nutty, pretzel-like aftertaste. I also have to give them credit on their butter, it was properly salted and spreadable. European butter is basically sweet cream, unsalted. Eurpopean butter is tasteless and waxy, like Anne Heche. I respect any French restaurant that serves salted butter. Accompanying the bread was a small ramakin of heated pistachios that were probably the best tasting pistachios I ever had. I will post at length about this anohter time, but nobody can ever underestimate the importance of salt, it is cruicial above all else to binding and extracting the flavor of food, without which taste could not exist. The pistachios were perfected because they were perfectly salted!


I ordered the trout amandine and Nayan had an endive salad. Not much to say about the salad, it was tossed carefully with the right amount of vinigarette. A bit light on the blue cheese, however, and the walnuts weren't as crispy or sweet as I am used to. Nayan liked it, so that's what is important.

My trout was pretty good. It was doused with a good amount of brown butter, the almonds were nice and salty, and the haricots verts didn't compete with the overall flavor. I scooped most of those over to Nayan. I like haricots verts, but there were a lot of them.

I'd have to say the highlight of the entree was a side of macaroni gratin. It came in a cast iron mini-casserole dish, nicely burned on top, with a creamy texture of cheese and cream that made a fluffy yet hearty bite.

All in all it was a nice experience, but it was almost marred beyond reproach with the onion soup. Sorry to seem so unforgivable, but as the old saying says “You can judge a civiliazation on how it treats its prisoners.” And you can judge a French restaurant by how good its onion soup is. Bouchon is competant, mostly attentive, inviting, but not spectacular.