There's an old show biz line that goes something like, "No one ever walked out of a theater whistling the scenery." The corrolary in restaurants, I suppose, is "No one ever walked out of a restaurant saying how delicious the decor was." And yet – well, the food at Tripel is often quite good, but it's the decor that strikes one upon arrival.
From the very handsome door (and surely there's a good explanation for why there's no ramp to get in it) to the painted Art Moderne ceiling and the etched glass panels, this is a brasserie in the fine old style. Even the small mismatched bread plates, which may appear ktischy, fall into the little-European-restaurant style one still finds, mostly in smaller cities and towns.
Beer lovers will know that this is a Belgian brasserie, not a French one, although there's French influence here and there. So there are new dishes and some new words for St. Louisans, along with more familiar things.
Are those escargot French? Set free from shells and parsley, Tripel nestles them – and a little garlic butter; let's not get too radical – in the hollow of a split marrow bone and places a strip of marrow atop before they're placed in a hot oven. Absolutely succulent, with a couple of slices of grilled bread to stretch out the very rich fun.
The pate of the day was chicken. Given its very pale pinky-beige color, my guess is that it was white meat and chicken liver. Very mild, almost perfectly smooth save for a slight graininess, a light hit of brandy, the only off-note was the pate jar's top layer with what appeared to be tomato aspic, but with no discernible flavor at all. Fine tomatoes alongside, though, and a few leaves of lightly dressed salad.
How many antelope roam in Belgium? Not many, but a strong recommendation to Tripel's work with them. Slices medium rare as ordered, lean, quite tender and very juicy, garnished with lardons of bacon and slices of crisply fried garlic, plus a few roasted Brussels sprouts and frites. Instead of the frites, diners can opt for stoemp, mashed potatoes with unnamed vegetables. (Traditionally, they're root vegetables.) But Belgium is known for its french fries, traditionally served with mayonnaise and one feels certain obligations in these circumstances.
Like all the entrees from the "grilled" section of the menu, there was a choice of sauces. Bearnaise is irresistible; the version here is thick, lightly tarragon-ed and only lightly touched with any acidity, but still, as always, a perfect foil for the fries. But what the menu called an au poivre sauce was a reddish brown tasting of beef broth and the only discernible pepper was in a slight aftertaste, no cream, no brandy, nothing of the classic au poivre. The odd sauce made no difference, this was still a fine plate of food.
Waterzoois are the traditional Belgian stews, often made with fish but certainly seen in other iterations. Tripel offers them with chicken or vegetables, and what arrived were a leg quarter and a trimmed breast quarter topped with an array of seemingly roasted vegetables. And in a sauce boat came the gravy from the waterzooi, pale and creamy-looking – it's traditionally thickened with cream and sometimes egg. The chicken was very good, the white meat perfectly cooked, done but not dry, the dark meat a little more relaxed from its journey through the heat. But they didn't look as though they'd been in a stew – perhaps a delicate braise, but not a stew. The gravy added to the puzzle, with very little flavor, but it was superfluous. The young carrots stretched along the side of the dish, little new potatoes and a bit of zucchini, all chimed in. This may just be one of those "our interpretation of" waterzooi deals.
And, in answer to a question I've already gotten, there are mussels. Six versions, in fact. You can't have even a semi-Belgian restaurant without mussels.
And for dessert? Baba au rhum. For those new to this, it's a yeast-based cake, rich with eggs, often made in little individual molds and soaked in a sweet rum syrup. Here it arrived as a couple of slices from a ring mold, topped with macerated chopped dried fruit, which is traditional, and a large bottle of Myer's Rum to add more rum. Interestingly, that did not make it too boozy, although this really is an essentially adult dessert. The texture was wonderful, tender but remaining firm, the flavors mellow. I only wonder what the baba would be like topped with fresh summer fruit – rum and peaches, for instance, sound like a good idea.
A young server who was obliging but still learning the menu a little – and an extra point to her for managing that gracefully.
Not perfect, but interesting and worth a return visit for mussels and a chocolate dessert. Along with the baba au rhum, that is.
Tripel
1801 Park Ave.
314-678-7787
Dinner Tues.-Sat.
Credit cards: Yes
Wheelchair access: Poor
Smoking: No
Entrees: $12-$26